Long Annoyingly Poems
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I hate robocalls!
Inxs of recorded messages
transmitted automatically
to my telephone number
by automatic dialing device.
I turn off damn ringer,
and disassemble (carefully
as disabling a time bomb)
internal workings nevertheless...
telephone still buzzes
twenty four seven
eight days a week
automated telephone calls
digitally recorded message
perfectly spoken English
differentiation to distinguish
"FAKE" simulation
all bot impossible
totally immune to escape
gagging hospitable invective
electronic jawboning immunized
against antipathy, cruelty, enemy,
hostility, insecurity, pleasantry
Yukon run to tallest mountain
dive into Mariana Trench
get catapulted into
outer limits of twilight zone,
yet NEVER be free and clear
getting wirelessly zapped
with visual ad audiological
offal dregs and spam
(minus the green eggs)
oh... yes even after life,
while weightlessly
pinwheeling in limbo,
particularly during eternal sleep,
when dead souls repose
six feet deep
or corpse undergoes cremation...
yepper, infiltration into atomic core
blithely battered, jimmied,
cherry lee pitted, tweaked,
worse fate than return of Zombies
electrical essential existential
incorporeal surreal auditory ordeal
spurs indiscriminate human
to relish golden silence
spawning best selling novel
to flesh out fiction
Utopian treasured island story
winning unknown author
instant acclaim and glory
describing village people
livingsocial, free and clear
without annoyingly,
egregiously, infuriatingly,
maddeningly, quaveringly
vexing, nauseating, disrupting
blitzkrieg courtesy aggravating
trumpeting autonomous programs
hijacking brainstorming concentration
thwarting aim tug get back on target
(even when carrying on camping)
sundering coalescence
regarding colonizing black screen
aborted doomed genesis
of brilliant fleeting idea,
contributes to conspiracy theory
linkedin with ghost calls
thus one smart
generic garden variety
longfellow forced to
grovel along boulevard
of broken dreams
on a green day.
Any resemblance between above
hyperbole and living person
asked courteously by his name
of the human league,
I police tell the caller
purely coincidental!
I stroll through life, a passenger in my own body, without aim or purpose
My feet touch the ground but there’s no feeling, I’m numb to my senses only my consciousness remains
I’m lost on my journey, no path appears before me, though I search tirelessly for the hint of one
Days, months, years roll by and I’m stuck floating through life, annoyingly trapped in tedium
I try to make a choice but there are too my possibilities to select from, worse yet I lack a purpose
No drive, no zeal to push me forward, no waves to ride, so here I reside, wherever here may be
One might think me lucky to have endless possibilities, such capabilities, success assured
But with so many things to do and so little time to do them, I’m struck prioritizing, not doing
Parents often lie to their children saying “you can be whatever you want to be”, but that’s fallacy
You can only be what is within your capabilities, you can only achieve what your intellect will allow
Everyone is, or should be born with limitations, that which cannot be surpassed with effort
But as fate would have it, mine are non-existent, or simply outside the realm of human understanding
My potential, my intellect, has hindered my progress believe it or not, everything is such a bore
What do you do when you have the ability to do anything, yet no interest towards anything?
I try to take a step forward, but yet here I remain, still unfocused, though I lack nothing
A very perplexing and annoying problem, though I’ve from the beginning found the solution
It is quite simple really, so simple in fact that it would be overlooked by most
I will go against the norm, create my own path, and blaze a trail no one can or would think to follow
Instead of doing what I love to earn, I will earn so I can do what interests me, problem solved
Most will not understand or will misunderstand what I mean, but that’s fine
Since this is a problem only I have, arrogant as that may seem, a fact nonetheless
Though I’d prefer if you’d call me a narcissist, narcissism can be sexy after all
No need to take heed or even seek meaning, this is simply the ramblings of a genius
They say a picture Is worth a 1000 words,
Yet the realisation that all I have left are pictures
Actually Renderes me speechless
Apparently the adage is actually meant that complex and sometimes multiple ideas can be conveyed by a single still image, which conveys its meaning or essence more effectively than a mere verbal description.
And I have to agree that a picture does convey more meaning or essence than a mere verbal description,
However, a picture does not capture your inner essence or uncover ones hidden encryptions,
You cannot smell that personal scent we each have through a still image,
It doesn't talk to me like you did, or laugh with me, or at me, I can't hear your voice through a still image,
It doesn't capture a true unprovoked instructed smile like you smiled,
It doesn't capture the little annoyingly annoying things you'd do,
That only now I truly miss,
A picture isn't the same as walking in and you being right there in front of me in the flesh,
A picture doesn't even come close to that in comparison actually,
It may be worth 1000 words, but I'd give up those words or any picture,
To have you back here even just for an hour or a half or even a minute or two,
Just so I could say thank you, for being the very best you could be, and doing the best you could do,
I'd say all the things that were never said so stupidly because of pride and ego, although it seems so ignorant now,
Id tell you how much I loved you, something I never said enough,
I'd say it all before, it was to late to say it at all,
And I'd snap just one last selfie of us together, because I never even noticed that I've only 1 picture of you and I together,
And now it's to late to take anymore.
But if I could I'd snap on more shot
Because I would no,
That eventually you'd still have to leave again and go,
But at least I'd have my picture that is worth 1000 words,
I wonder how it would read
Would it be about you or me, or maybe even just the scenary?
Or would it be about when you came down from heaven to visit me,
And left me a picture worth 1000 words to tell the story.
Face fractured with fear
As the Taxi drew near
The building was in the next street
" I'll drop you off here"
Said Steve full of cheer
(Annoyingly rather upbeat.)
As you pushed on the door
It's sticky hinge hissed
And you drew in your breath
At the scent of 'dentist'
"Youre a little late" the lady said
Do you live somewhere rural ?
You swigged on your hip flask
Looked her right in the eye, saying
"Just get me an epidural."
"Now now Mrs Phillips
You'll be just fine "
Said the lady so white and starched
And into the chamber of old magazines,
You were unceremoniously marched.
With Your heart like a piston
And blood pressure soaring
(Even " Horse and Hound" seemed
Tired and boring )
Lulled by a clock counting out every second,
Till you started with fright
As a dental nurse beckoned ...
"Please don't worry, don't be so tense "
Said Helga ( on work experience )
And then with sinister gravity
Said "We'll take care of that cavity "
"Hello" boomed a voice from the back of the room,
I'm here to do your extraction. I've done them before so no need to shake,
Look at me if you need a distraction "
"This won't take a second, it's all pretty simple
Just a couple of jabs and we're there "
So first with your right fist and then with your left,
He was out cold, on the floor, by your chair.
You ripped off your bib, took a swig of the pink
And suddenly feeling much better,
You lunged for the door and ran down the stairs
As fast as a sprightly red setter.
You ran to a sweet shop and asked for some toffee
"Give me the chewiest stuff that you've got"
"Sure said the assistant , this one's from Yorkshire
And here, you can have the lot "
You took of the wrappers and stuffed it all in
Then chewed like a donkey on acid
And in a few seconds, the tooth that was hurting
Left a hole as big as Lake Placid.
So what is the moral
I hear you all ask
Of this tale both of triumph and sorrow ?
Well forget your insurance, leave your cheque book at home,
Just unwrap and chew on a toffo
Hahahahahahhahahahahahhahahahahahaha
and now I'm all...alone
It's the way I wanted it, the way I planned it
why I came so far, drowned in darkness
attempted to cut down everyone in my path
I'm so close in my conquest for revolution
so close in my life for my form of peace
I'm sick of this, these constant bonds tugging at me
that voice nagging at my heels
wanting a change of heart that will never come
begone from me, I leave you
you and everything you stand for
erase yourself from my presence or I'll erase you myself
all of our battles
I am the one who always walks out the victor
it's the power I wanted to achieve to match...my brother
my brother who's always walked in front of me
Brother, I...forgive me
but I will turn this world into cinders for you
create my own world of darkness and peace
All that stands in my way is him
Over and over and over and over and over and over
WHY MUST YOU CONTINUE TO STAND IN MY WAY
WHY ARE YOU SO DETERMINED TO BE THE THORN IN MY SIDE
WHY!
(Why are you the only one who tries this hard to rescue me....)
and there he said it again
the words that make me hate him a little less
a bright light in my shroud of despair
"because we're friends"
I force a laugh of challenge when I just want to smile at those words
as I strengthen my resolve in anger, in envy
He still shouts that after all we've been through
after the chaos I've caused
after I've even tried to take his life twice
and now seek the title of Hokage
the very same he's been calling for his whole life
he still calls me his friend...
I DON'T NEED FRIENDS!
(just for once I wish to forget for a moment who I am anyway)
so come at me, lets end this battle and all the ones we've started before
you the person to walk ahead of me...like my brother did
you who never broke this bond with me
you, this annoyingly optimistic person in my path
(I've killed one brother a moment too late, don't make me lose you too)
JUST GET OUT OF MY WAY!
is what I said in one last gasp of despair
but it is I who lost the fight this time...
I.
There are so many things that I desire,
oh, please Santa, give me what I fancy-
I’m a woman with needs, so much required,
now here’s my list, I’m getting too antsy!
Laser hair removal system for one,
you know sir, the kind that doesn’t even hurt?
Cuz’ not only would it be so much fun,
it would be easier for me to flirt.
No man wants a girl with gross facial hair,
Chewie Chewbacca has nothing on me-
I need a delicate skin tone so fair,
not a five o’clock shadow so hairy.
I beg of you, to fill my last request,
so that I may always look my darn best!
II.
I’ve been a lil’ naughty, I must confess,
dipped my toes in cold water full of ice-
Ate too many Snickers and stole that dress,
Santa, I didn’t even have to think twice!
What else have I done that has been so wrong?
yes, maybe I should keep you in the loop-
Walking my puppy, and strolling along,
started storming, I didn’t pick up his poop!
Or what about the time I shh-ed that kid,
he was annoyingly singing too loud
in church; then he ran off crying and hid,
his parents couldn’t find him in the large crowd.
See, innocent I never claimed to be,
but I hope you show mercy upon me!
III.
Despite my indiscretions you must know,
I really am a nice girl deep inside-
It’s hard, but I try to go with the flow,
it’s not my fault I’ve got nothin’ to hide!
I beg and plead for you to see the good,
held in the depth of my soul and my heart-
Please know I would do better if I could,
guess New Year’s Day is a good time to start.
Santa, you must have compassion for me,
I know you enjoy having your white beard,
but it’s not normal to be so hairy,
have you seen me lately? I look so weird!
Yes, I’ve been naughty… give me your wisdom---
send a laser hair removal system!
From Your Lips to Santa's Ears Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Phillip Garcia
December 27, 2017
I hate robocalls!
I turn off damn ringer,
nonetheless...
telephone still buzzes
twenty four seven
eight days a week
automated telephone calls
digitally recorded message
perfectly spoken English
differentiation to distinguish
"FAKE" simulation
all bot impossible
totally immune to escape
gagging hospitable invective
electronic jawboning immunized
against antipathy, cruelty, enemy,
hostility, insecurity, pleasantry
Yukon run to tallest mountain
dive into Mariana Trench
get catapulted into
outer limits of twilight zone,
yet NEVER be free and clear
getting wirelessly zapped
with visual ad audiological
offal dregs and spam
oh... , yes even after life,
while weightlessly
pinwheeling in limbo,
particularly during eternal sleep,
when dead souls repose
six feet deep
or corpse undergoes cremation...
yepper, infiltration into atomic core
blithely battered, jimmied,
cherry lee pitted, tweaked,
worse fate than return of Zombies
electrical essential existential
incorporeal surreal auditory ordeal
spurs indiscriminate human
to relish golden silence
spawning best selling novel
to flesh out fiction
Utopian treasured island story
winning unknown author
instant acclaim and glory
describing village people
livingsocial, free and clear
without annoyingly,
egregiously, infuriatingly,
maddeningly, quaveringly
vexing, nauseating, disrupting
blitzkrieg courtesy aggravating
trumpeting autonomous programs
hijacking brainstorming concentration
thwarting aim tug get back on target
(even when carrying on camping)
sundering coalescence
regarding colonizing black screen
aborted doomed genesis
of brilliant fleeting idea,
thus one smart
generic garden variety
longfellow forced to
grovel along boulevard
of broken dreams.
Any resemblance between above
hyperbole and living persons
purely coincidental!
I turn off damn ringer,
nonetheless...
telephone still buzzes
twenty four seven
eight days a week
automated telephone calls
digitally recorded message
perfectly spoken English
differentiation to distinguish
"FAKE" simulation
all bot impossible
totally immune to escape
gagging hospitable invective
electronic jawboning immunized
against antipathy, cruelty, enemy,
hostility, insecurity, pleasantry
Yukon run to tallest mountain
dive into Mariana Trench
get catapulted into
outer limits of twilight zone,
yet NEVER be free and clear
getting wirelessly zapped
with visual ad audiological
offal dregs and spam
oh... , yes even after life,
while weightlessly
pinwheeling in limbo,
particularly during eternal sleep,
when dead souls repose
six feet deep
or corpse undergoes cremation...
yepper, infiltration into atomic core
blithely battered, jimmied,
cherry lee pitted, tweaked,
worse fate than return of Zombies
electrical essential existential
incorporeal surreal auditory ordeal
spurs indiscriminate human
to relish golden silence
spawning best selling novel
to flesh out fiction
Utopian treasured island story
winning unknown author
instant acclaim and glory
describing village people
livingsocial, free and clear
without annoyingly,
egregiously, infuriatingly,
maddeningly, quaveringly
vexing, nauseating, disrupting
blitzkrieg courtesy aggravating
trumpeting autonomous programs
hijacking brainstorming concentration
thwarting aim tug get back on target
(even when carrying on camping)
sundering coalescence
regarding colonizing black screen
aborted doomed genesis
of brilliant fleeting idea,
thus one smart
generic garden variety
longfellow forced to
grovel along boulevard
of broken dreams.
Any resemblance between above
hyperbole and living persons
purely coincidental!
SAPA: THE NOTORIETY OF PENNILESS
Their ambition grew higher,
Sapa, blew out of proportion.
Their expectations grew higher,
Sapa extend its wings.
Sapa, the Invincibly diabolical.
crippling the capitalist,
humbled the miserly,
breaking, the annoyingly proud.
How art thou ruthless?
hysterically, mocking their projections, expectations and pledges.
Issued warrant of arrest on the rich ,
crippled their savings.
Or is it not you?
who made billionaires feed on crumbs,
You! who made Nigerians, a top fan of cassava flakes.
Nigerians!
unassuming fan of free rides and shuttles,
You! who made them trek miles unmoved.
Sapa!
How art thou Invincibly unpredictable?
for you, locked horns with, plenty and made jest of famine,
the scorpion who stung the abominable elephant to its death.
You! who hits cancerously,
carved a beautiful work of art,
on their boxers.
Is it not you?
who hits terribly and hunger,
ferociously, redefining and instilling, discipline, and mannerisms in Nigerians.
You!
who taught Nigerians to serve God,
passionately and redeem their tithes.
Sapa, the woe of the lascivious.
The karma of the indolent.
You! who took Nigerians on a voyage,
drove them safely to Freetown, where nothing was free.
You!
who made their eyes pale and financially decisive.
Is it not you?
who inspired Nigerians to unravel joy in Garri,
and agree with predestination.
For, they found an haven in regurgitation,
a paradise in Kpómò,
splashed millions of stash on a castle in the air.
Made their beautifully - ugly sandals,
a four - wheeled mustang,
rooting the books and, crannies of trenches.
Happy were they,
clasping and clacking.
You!
who made Nigerians over - night cobblers,
and their wears on repeat.
Long Live , the great sage.
It was just before sunset in an early spring. Three horseback riders,
by chance, came together in the field by the wood and were having conversation. They were a lady and two gentlemen, well dressed, in horse riding outfits.
“How are you Ophelia?” The man in black coat greeted the lady robed in violet, with an unenthusiastic look. “We haven’t see each other for a while, have we?”
“Oh, your highness,” she replied in delight with the pleasant smile.
“It wasn’t me, but you were always avoiding me for some reason.”
Ophelia turned her face toward the other gentleman who was in red coat at her left. “Isn’t that true, My Lord?”
“When death dominates us, let it dominate us to sharpen the dagger; and when we resuscitate, hide our sharpened blade behind us to stab the foe in his heart.” The gentleman in red coat answered bluntly.
“I don’t quite understand. What do you mean, my Lord?” She asked with puzzled face.
”Never mind!” The gentleman in black coat shouted annoyingly. “For my cursed dagger’s sake, we must go back to the castle at once. Come, my dear friend Horatio.”
“Yes; my Lord Hamlet,” he drew reins to turn his horse to where
the Hamlet’s horse was, while explaining to Ophelia. “The ‘death dominates’ mean that a situation is in dilemma. The situation that of kill or to die.”
Even long after tow horseback riders ride away from the scene and
sun started to sink from behind the hilltop, Ophelia stood there on horseback and kept uttering. “When death dominates us, love may hate love itself, rather than love trust the love, the maiden pure heart.”
Note: A short story fabricated after appreciation of the picture of three elegantly dressed horseback riders in sunset field, using three main characters from Hamlet.