Long Apologetically Poems
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It’s Saturday morning, and even though it’s Thanksgiving break, Lisa and I are in her bedroom, in NYC, studying.
“Ok,” Lisa stops, looks up and says, “give me a 5ex symbol.”
“I.. I don’t have one on me.” I say, apologetically.
“NAME one.” she clarifies.
“Are there “5ex symbols” anymore?” I say, with air-quotes, “Who’s “Marilyn Monroe” today -Kim Kardashian - oooo - or Kendall Jenner?”
“I read Emily Ratajkowski refer to herself as a 5ex symbol the other day.” Lisa says.
“Is that the model that said she was groped at a photo-shoot?” I ask, as I google her.
“Yeah,” Lesa nods, “but it was a music video shoot.”
“Do you think I could model?” I ask, as I pose vampingly. “Be unflinchingly honest.” I request.
“Hhmmmm,” she considers, framing me in a finger rectangle pretend camera. “You’re like Marilyn Monroe,” she says, “in a training bra.” *We burst out laughing*
“Back to the subject,” Lisa says, “name a guy you think of as a 5ex symbol.”
“Humphrey Bogart!“ I say.
“Humphrey Bogart?? No!” she rejects him, wrinkling her nose, “too old-timey and dead, besides, he was a MOVIE star - come ON, a real one - SAY!”
Michael Gandolfini!” I offer.
“??Michael Gandolfini??” she says, sounding stumped as her fingers google him.
*I make a dreamy “mmmm,” yummy sound.
“Oh, my GOD,” she says, and looks up for confirmation. “Humphrey Bogart and Michael Gandolfini - HONESTLY, you have the WEIRDEST taste!”
I was shocked, “No, seriously, don’t you think Michael looks kind of soft, cute and.. LUVable?”
She groans, “You’re going to marry an ugly man someday - aren’t you?” She pronounces, shaking her head.
“AM NOT!” I responded, throwing a pillow at her head (a pillow fight ensues).
Come over and sit next to me
I saved this seat for you
My eyes are pleading quietly
Hoping that you do
I'll keep my hands here on my lap
But if you only knew
How much they want to know your feel
To convert it from a view
Now I might try to orchestrate
An accidental touch
It wouldn't be too obvious
Nor would it be too much
A simple reach across your arm
Made to look unplanned
Or I could stand and help you sit
And offer you my hand
Perhaps "coincidentally"
I'll brush you as I kid
And then apologetically
Say sorry that I did
Or I could sit and just enjoy
The fact that you are near
Moments like those mean so much
I hold them all so dear
* We were told to people watch to draw inspiration from the outside world*
Public transportation
Is
My
Source for real world information
The
introverted Man across from me shuffles his ipod
His lips move to
Lyrics of an unknown cadence
Lost in a day dream
Remembering childhood fantasies
He is Battling with Lil Wayne, Eminem or even Drake
Or feeling the guitar sing when he’s playing with the Queen
Just an ordinary man, no one would usually take notice of him
But the crowds recognition, the attention, the admiration of women
This was the life much more suited for him
The Bright pink colour in his cheeks or his laughter rising to the ceiling
Would be much more captivating
Than his dreary grey scowl, hardened from societies disapproval
He looks back across from me
Almost apologetically
Poets weren’t meant to be spies
I looked him straight in the eyes and told him Never apologize
Your dreams are closer to you than you realize
Love yourself first, and that trust will seal your fate
Form:
Voluntary unconditional surrender woke...,
Viz hitting yours truly,
when yokel egghead doth jinx
whereby ye cannot comprehend figurative
wimpy vainglory, unequivocally, tectonically,
smoldering resentments I stoke,
he doth bare his soul no joke,
no matter insight doth severely challenge
cyber surfing passersby, who attempt
to interpret courtesy
mental torture doth invoke
brutality, difficulty, futility gobbledygook,
heavily taxing your fifty
plus shades of gray
I apologetically, grudgingly (ha),
painstakingly, unwittingly... poke,
when mine broadcast
red by anonymous folk
admittedly poetically trumpeting ambiguity
overlain donned with high falutin cloak
peace be with thee courtesy this bloke.
Electronic date/time stamp permeates
within copious, illustrious,
and porous corpus callosum
hemispheric spongy sinks
mister re: mysterious as Sphinx
validation indubitably backfires
invariably induces loosed
unicellular sized rat finks
cerebral blackout courtesy
one to many drinks,
envision sucker punched by
rockin sockin robots one named
Muhammad Ali t'other Leon Spinks,
or gordian knotted cognitive kinks
bajillion befuddled blinks,
albeit feeble analogy methinks
to render genuine concomitant
convoluted, mangled, twisted... (think
Möbius strip) sentiment
specifically linkedin with
sincere appreciation meant
pertaining to this gent
despite slight trepidation
as faux Geico petsmart agent
forced celibate nun sensical chap
considering entering convent
cloistered existence remaining
days of my life get spent,
where "15 minutes
might save me, not so shabby decent
15% or more on car insurance."
Paraphrase aforementioned Matt Speak
more easily succinctly understood,
versus gibberish as ????????
(i.e. the word Greek spelled in Greek)
essentially long in the tooth fella
self anointed literate sheikh
feeble flattered fungi with
average mushroom shaped physique
trends towards playfulness
in tandem with harmless streak
merely acknowledges how his unique
self expression oft times
tongue-in-cheek
experiences giddiness at unsolicited
positive feedback versus he/she,
who doth bitingly, flagrantly,
outrageously, witheringly... critique
modesty misunderstood equivalent
of poetic (peekaboo) hide and seek
to Dani body hook ken find me
game to reveal me re: hide and seek.
WE NEVER KNOW
I think about that day every now and then…it remains a special one…
a day we decide, on a whim, to change our plans…go to a park
and watch the setting sun.
I remember as the sun was setting how an orange hue filled the sky.
when a man with his Golden on a leash…happened to walk by.
After exchanging smiles he held up his camera and asked apologetically
“If you don’t mind…would you please take a few pictures of my dog and me?"
“I’d like a photograph of our last sunset.” He said as tears fell from his eyes.
“You see she’s old and she is sick…and tomorrow we say goodbye.”
“I’ve had her since she was a puppy…and she’s 12 years old this week…
In truth my heart is breaking…even as we speak.”
“I would love to have one last photo together…one more memory before the end.”
So Deborah gladly snapped some pictures…of this man and his best friend.
It was a beautiful sunset…and as I watched the sun gently sliding down the sky
I thought this is truly a wonderful way for them to say goodbye.
Once the photos were taken the man sat down and told us what a good dog she has been….all the while Deborah patted her back while I rubbed that old dog’s chin.
When we departed we were glad we had the sunset…glad for the beautiful weather
and glad we played a small part in their last few moments together.
What I think about now…is how none of it was planned…
how we didn’t end up where we started to go…
but that’s what makes this day so special…because some days…you never know.
You never know if the day you’ve outlined…the hours you’ve diagrammed
will work out the way you thought they would….If everything will go as planned.
I suppose that’s what makes life interesting….
in the midst of the world we are creating…
we never know what wonderful surprises
are somewhere…out there…waiting.
Once more I'm summoned:
Out of the soft grays of almost-sleep,
Pulled by your cries through the still murk
Of our house, resting quiet as stone,
The hour unknown, but one of the dead ones
Verging on the dawn.
I enter your tiny room resolved on threats,
If that's what it'll take, this time.
- But there you stand trembling, pink fingers grasping the crib,
So sadeyed it makes my heart ache
With the love of you.
So once again I lift you, hold you tight
As you sob into my shoulder apologetically.
You've no word for the Terrors that assault you by night;
Can't name them to me, that I might banish them
With whatever Father-Magic I possess.
So I give consolation as best I may,
In soothing murmmers, enfolding arms,
Before I lay you back down, now calmed for a time
Then shuffle on back to await the next round.
My head swims with its want of sleep, I'm too tired now
To feel even traces of acceptable anger
At all these nightly robberies of my rest.
Besides, I've no word for my formless fears either,
No teddies to post for guard;
But a warm and loving wife lies in wait
To comfort me.
crazy of me
living with your lie
to expect of thee
that you might somehow see
you are my special guy
how silly can I be
how insane of me
to expect you to try
I'm sure you must agree
to believe in thee
without a bit of why,
expecting honesty
un-apologetically
figuring out good bye
setting you gloriously free
how crazy of me taking the road so high
knowing how selfish you can be,
to think that you ever thought of me.
Written December 15, 2018 Contest: Mid January 2018
Any Theme
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Suicidal Ideation March 30th, 2022 linkedin...
to mein kampf insync with mine body dysmorphia
After reading articles
published within April 4/11 2022
of The Nation
I challenged the efficacy
taking prescription medication
categorized as SSRIs
and/or SNRIs.
Unpleasant side effects
such as earth shaking dreams
and/or especially hefty weight gain
linkedin with former
comprising my daily cocktail
of approved prescription medication
courtesy nurse practitioner.
Deliberation about courting death rooted
throughout mine psyche
fueling sinister chortle
at least since bout with anorexia nervosa,
but... maybe ginned blood,
sans umbilical cord transfused in utero aortal,
though long since recovered, the intractable,
haunting specter, sans grim reaper
intertwining within every fiber of this mortal
rooted, grounded deep, and branched out
into each nook and cranny portal.
Said notion provoked,
when made painfully aware
youngest daughter (aged twenty three)
plagued with similar thoughts,
damn genetics did maliciously engineer
clutching telephone while
seated at edge of chair
did apologetically, despairingly,
grievously... did air
pestilential, penitential, plenipotential... scare
re: distraction and understandable fear,
she might unwittingly plunge
into hopeless abysmal despair
falling prey into irrevocable
deathly hallows lair,
though kudos for her
from me, this sole Harris heir
to communicate, (albeit
hesitantly) into mine ear
suddenly wishing thy
Shayna Punim to be near,
but residing (about three hour drive
southeast of Portland, Oregon)
with my kid sister, attentive to welfare,
a sibling whose persona
doth show tender loving care
and concern, this papa
felt reassured there
would be every action taken
with sixth sense to beware
lest progeny exhibits
pointedly obvious lurching career
dramatic slide in tandem
with Old Rotten Gotham
into behavioral sink
emergency measures sibling
immediately would commandeer,
hence somewhat relieved thee dear
beloved progeny receptive to hear,
this dada expressed his unconditional love,
and grateful psychological intervention
offspring boldly did declare
indicative professional help volunteer
really asserted necessary to stave off
how dice throw of fate unfair
to said lass, whose demise,
would abruptly kill this sonneteer!
THE FINGERPRINTS ON THE PARK BENCH
WET PAINT
Perhaps if it had read ……SLOWLY DRYING PAINT
Who knows……WHY
So many must test
the veracity of the obvious.
Question the tone of the voice,
the size of the “angry” letters,
offering a cautious advisory.
We flee the “crime scene”
having left DNA and fingerprint evidence
of our “Thomas like” doubt,
curling our fingers
into a “safe house” fist
of self-conscious denial.
We return, as it is said,
to the scene of the “crime”.
Apologetically touch
the fading green paint
of a lonely park bench.
© John G. Lawless
2/23/2017
Deliberation about courting death rooted
throughout mine psyche fueling sinister chortle
at least since bout with anorexia nervosa,
but... maybe ginned blood,
sans umbilical cord transfused in utero aortal,
though long since recovered, the intractable,
haunting specter, sans grim reaper
intertwining within every fiber of this mortal
rooted, grounded deep, and branched out
into each nook and cranny portal.
Said notion provoked,
when made painfully aware
youngest daughter (aged twenty)
plagued with similar thoughts,
damn genetics did maliciously engineer
clutching telephone while
seated at edge of chair
did apologetically, despairingly,
grievously... did air
pestilential, penitential, plenipotential... scare
re: distraction and understandable fear,
she might unwittingly plunge
into hopeless abysmal despair
falling prey into irrevocable
deathly hallows lair,
though kudos for her
from me, this sole Harris heir
to communicate, (albeit
hesitantly) into mine ear
suddenly wishing thy
Punim to be near,
but residing (about three hour drive
southeast of Portland, Oregon)
with my kid sister, attentive to welfare,
a sibling whose persona
doth show tender loving care
and concern, this papa
felt reassured there
would be every action taken
with sixth sense to beware
lest progeny exhibits
pointedly obvious lurching career
dramatic slide into behavioral sink
emergency measures sibling
immediately would commandeer,
hence somewhat relieved thee dear
beloved progeny receptive to hear,
this dada expressed his unconditional love,
and grateful psychological intervention offspring
boldly did declare
indicative professional help volunteer
really asserted necessary to stave off
how dice throw of fate unfair
to said lass, whose demise,
would abruptly kill this sonneteer!