Long Arbitrarily Poems
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Nope! I haint gonna crack'n on the heat... just yet
until the cowed chickens come home to roost!
Sunlight streaming thru window
body electric of mine doth whet
begets hardiness to acclimate
against PECO shut off threat
ideal opportunity to spouse
analogous to her being my emotional pet
snuggling while standing in kitchenette
but accidental twerking
can guarantee yours truly
(me) being recipient of epithet.
I bundle up to stay warm
inside my cold man cave
particularly as average outside temperature
for November twentieth
two thousand and twenty three
hovers between high and low
fifty degrees fahrenheit
nearly brisk enough to see my breath.
I and/or the imaginary paramour
take our separate showers
during warmest hours of the day
less optimal to engage
in neighborly horseplay,
but more ideal for mistress (ha)
to pad around the unit donning her lingerie,
which nonverbally signals
(and greenlights)
more than voluminous words,
hence, I seal lips of mine
despite sudden aroused frisky urge
to burble exhibiting
debauched casanova behavior
accompanied courtesy illustrative
of suave debonair popinjay
rerouting spontaneous seduction today
indicative of throbbing
bulbous anatomical appurtenance,
which protrusion nullifies necessity of x-ray
to identify sudden
source of vasocongestion.
During daylight hours fresh air
arbitrarily, humorously, and noiselessly
streams and wafts
thru screened windows
ushering invisible scents
and audible sounds
of the webbed wide world here,
in Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
our neck of the woods
since seventeenth year
after second century Anno Domini.
Civilizations since time immemorial
revered fiery celestial ball
establishing their respective mythology
which scheme attempted to explain
divine thermonuclear processes
sustaining the nearest star,
which Sol Invictus did enthrall
housing an astronomical object
comprising a luminous spheroid of plasma
held together by self-gravity
within the heavenly vault
divine creator didst install
which supposed movement
in the sheltering sky
signified daytime and nightfall
linkedin with planet earth
a veritable, observable, honorable,
and admirable terrestrial tetherball.
As dark canvas unfurls bit by bit
Randomly gulping down acrylic paints of dusk
To satisfy his own thirst, not for long, to sprawl
Into a magical cosmos - flapping his dark wings atop
Swirling soft fair clouds that rock and roll
Through gray-black, myriad dazzling stars so
Idyllic, and artistically spilt sparkling stardust
Charm the sky as if shiny pompoms and buttons;
Night sky lights up my gloomy mind:
In its artsy glory, I savour a tick of tranquil clock;
Glowing bright, stars and moon transmit rays of
Harmony. Aw! tiny drops of opals and diamonds
Thrown arbitrarily at pitch-dark canvas as if
Showcasing splash liquid art - so bright and brilliant;
Knitting a charcoal-black fabric of captivating stars and moon,
Yay! our night sky is shining, inspiring my bardic pupils.
Date: 01/13/2023
Lipogram Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Bloody leftist a wrist tuck crat!
Fingers of left hand cried freedom,
detached themselves and declared
mutiny gesticulating thumb thing
awful, than furiously haughtily
prancing, skittering, zipping,...
as self important independent digits
indiscriminately deleting one after
another email, mine eyes gleaned
subject pertaining to boldface all
CAPITALIZED notification urging,
indicating, beckoning... immediate
reply regarding... yours truly... huh
me (Matthew Scott Harris) arbitrarily
designated lucky random winner of
... some large dollar figure sporting
countless zeros left of decimal point,
I wept inconsolably intuitively aware
foregone irretrievable message haint
spam, but authentic bonafide one in
bajillion monetary sweepstakes drawing
impossible mission to recall subliminal
communique, and resorted to hypnosis
to jog mine memory and access lost data
which hoop fully convincingly explains
temporary absence, yea... understandable
skepticism induces furrowed brow, but
honest to dog Ott's well known selling
exotic plants also provide Asian mystical,
herbal, and celestial therapy, yet if unable
to successfully tweezer out valuable key
information locked within subconscious,
courtesy specially trained experts tending
rooted prized nuggets likening jewel heist
forager determined to plunder loot, the
mind will feel comfortably numb, which
allows, enables, and provides cathartic,
holistic, opportunistic... modus operandi
to accept permanently zapped chance of
lifetime to experience wealth (poof! gone
within a flash) instant karma at the least
managed to evoke fickle, nimble, and
worthwhile poet to build splendiferous
castles in the air.
We're playing a gift exchange and playing it twice
Going to find out who’s naughty or nice”
Santa once could arbitrarily decide
Who to praise and who to deride
But tonight dirty dice gift grabs
Let see who will have the most dabs
We won’t be able tell at a glance
Choose well or consider the circumstance
Nothing is classified as right or wrong
There’s no need to sing an old xmas song
Once the naughty were as guilty as can be
Now they are merely victims of this xmas party
Dirty Dice is not fair
Just Roll them, they don’t care
It’s not about Naughty
It’s not about Nice
It’s just about rolling
the same number twice.
Where it gets crazy
is in the second half - then we see who gets dirty.
Listen and follow the rules
And see who ends up with all the jewels.
That were kept hidden for many years
A stocking full of coal no one need fear.
For this game will bring joy and cheers.
Let the game begin ---- and let not forget the beers.
Sorry...No Time To Play UNO With Dada!
Forgotten memory jarred
beholding two decks UNO
materializing from...thin air,
(Spongebob Squarepants nonetheless),
I vividly recall both offspring
as bubbly little girls
their most favorite card game
both daughters grown
into independent womanhood
(playtime verboten shunted aside,
they now chess attend Life)
relished with zeal
beating pants of this papa
feigned shock, when fingers
strained to the max
grasping bulk of cards
heard the word "UNO"
followed by profuse laughter
which round mirth
subsequently invited eager plea
to play board game "SORRY,"
outcome already predicted,
but yours truly,
he indulged revelling
giddy atmosphere,
and willingly acquiesced
arbitrarily choosing
least favorite color
arranging game pieces,
within designated starting place
half heartedly perturbed
nary a dice throw yielded
thee requisite number one
finally after Oracle of Delphi
bore predicted rout
with near defeat
meaning either lass
almost got all her "men" home,
aye cast die for numeral uno,
gingerly proceeded to roll dice,
a long shot ambition
to advance my four pawns,
and exalt with sought after
glee to edge ahead,
but lovely girls strategy
and motive (dispensing, donning,
trumpeting... retribution – payback,
when supposedly this “sir” mean)
uttered sinister laugh
as one or more selected
mine "men" almost home
happily sent back to start.
Siege warfare (trumpeting)
average joe biden his time
linkedin with aberrant behavior
transpires within me mind,
(not just today December 5th, 2020,
but everyday/365)
warrants depleting stockpile arsenal
constituting exhausting mental health
uprooting deep seated repellent pesky
daunting lost cause.
Overruled by irrational thoughts,
I feebly muster a lame duck
half quacked comeback
(think home team cheering at pep rally)
against analogous figurative agents provocateur
said nemesis bore down hard
upon sense and sense abilities
mine psyche undergoing
blistering, hectoring withering, et cetera
courtesy ghost of Emily Brontë
mailer daemons flitting to and fro,
hither and yon within wuthering heights.
Another necessity Emma gin)
awoke prided prejudice
to confront head on
beastie boy foo fighting (Irish,
no matter genealogy regarding
yours truly Eastern European)
mine talking head housing
private insane asylum.
Incomprehensible thought processes
chronically spin out of control
dictate mandate NOT to wash hair
until at least one week passage of time,
(an arbitrarily chosen number
i.e. seven days convenient block)
even if appearance looks unkempt, slovenly
grungy, et cetera as nirvana seeking guy.
Thus, I readily admit self held hostage,
whereby loopy thought provoking patterns
hopelessly, grimly, futilely find me surrendering
NEVER eradicating down battened ramparts
neurotic, lunatic approved, idiotic
mind mental chattering
babbling jabbering gibberish
housing concocted village people
dead set against shampooing oily locks.
Quite a tussle (think metaphorical hair pulling)
ensues within me scrambled noggin,
whereby pathetic psychotic pummeling
win knows scrimmage
scoring touchdown amidst
teaming muted brouhaha
allowing, enabling, and providing
harmlessly insane nettlesome
pesky skewed notions
ridiculous leeway to predominate
until yours truly USDA
qualified, hashtagged, certified...
as grateful dead among human league.
A culture steeped in retribution
becomes blind to freedom's contributions
accessed best through healing restorations,
trust,
virtual stuff
for democracies most resilient.
A society resisting love's innovative brilliance
comic and jazzy improvising resonance
healing ecosystemic egos dissonant
from aquatic wombs of patient advent,
Adventuring winter's iceflows of stark stuckness,
as impatient as a tongueless mess
stuck to a frozen metallic national goalpost
just as bells and climate whistles end recess
sound a new tune of chaotic harvest.
National prison lobbies
would lock up tongues and time
arbitrarily confining unconverted inmates lying
behind naked bars of self-isolation
and electric waves of competing institutions,
Walls against multiculturing opportunity,
defensive moats with hungry crocodiles,
black and white defenses against sinful lazy aliens,
and aggressive ballistic lobbyists
addicted to non-conversations
of fear and self-righteous anger,
marketing everyday all-white lies
of capital-hoarding omission.
Collective fears of punishing reparations
for sins against past and future poor regenerations
expands like melting ice-slow crystals
freezing fear escapes so many freedom wronged,
confined by greed against imprisoned selves
against relentlessly orthodox "Other."
Multihappy revolutions of 2020 vision,
listening to prison's sad social addictions
powering over
to rediscover yin-power with prisoners
together decriminalizing
desecularizing
retenderizing
pardoning humane nature
for past angry RedState patriarchal crimes
against Earth's cooperative matriarchal freedom
green inspiring Spirit.
All of which causal root to reflective branches came,
then took off again,
to show
One WhiteHouse addiction
to a HillHell of competing prison power
is another's enchantment
and/or disenchantment.
A summer house-boat party - Matey - toss those cares overboard. The scout boat found a deserted cove so the party can be privately fierce.
The lake's broken reflections of moonlight look like jewels on black satin.
There are all kinds of drinks - ALL kinds - and herbal refreshments flare like lightning bugs. It isn’t long before perfumed bodies are flexing to music in the hot, moist, summer air.
Dance, swim and repeat as needed - cool water evaporates off bathing suits immediately - replaced by prickled sweat. It’s too hot - I’m staying in the water. There’s a group of us in tubes tied, spider-web like, around the boat.
There’s a guy who’s been watching us (Bili, my BFF, is my tube-mate). He’s extremely fair, and he’s gotten a bit too much sun giving him a feverish appearance.
At one point, I meet his gaze - to see what he’d do. His irises are a light blue that, in the lights, reflect like little blue flames - unwavering and alien.
I don’t mind a bit of attention - I think that’s how the system works - attraction, pursuit, investigation, and eventually seduction. But usually from someone we know. A stranger's attention can make one feel as if they're in enemy territory.
He gave me a nod and a smile that seemed like a proposition. I whisper about this “encounter” to Bili who takes command and just rows us over to him.
He’s older than I first thought - 22 - with cream-colored hair - thick, like horse mane and eyelashes and brows so pale they’re almost invisible. His name is “Noud” and he’s from Holland - at Georgia Tech studying atmospheric something or other - and girl watching.
“What are you doing at some random Georgia lake party?”, I ask.
“Soaking up the local atmosphere, of course.” He says. Which makes sense, I suppose, because that IS his chosen field.
I do an Arnold Schwarzenegger impression, arbitrarily, which I think is pretty good (you can’t beat the classics) - Noud, does an even better one.
His, “I’m going to take [pause] you OUT” got a laugh.
His later, “You need to take [pause] that OFF” earned a “nuh-uh” finger wag.
Thanks to vaccinations, the atmosphere around here is a lot more fun.
The youth have teeth like tigers or tight ropes
Abundant mess of forest hair, d u r e s s
They charge the strings with their electric hopes
And bloody drum with battered sticks possess
(Refrain:
Tattooed wrinkles in flash pan of gray matter
In classic dress, this outlaw band of clatter)
(CHORUS OF VOICES:
The youth have teeth of forest hair
They charge with battered sticks.)
The youth have walked in circles, find themselves
In p r e e x i s t e n t footprints, m e r r i l y
Going round, and flying off crude music shelves
And plucking h e a r t s t r i n g s arbitrarily
(Refrain:
Tattooed wrinkles in flash pan of gray matter
In classic dress, this outlaw band of clatter)
(CHORUS OF VOICES:
Find themselves merrily
Going round arbitrarily)
B a d a $ $ at one time - a m i l l i o n to one
W O N over generous v e n e r a t i o n
They wore suits as they melted in the s u n
The-sin-of-getting-old g e n e r a t i o n
(CHORUS OF VOICES:
veneration
plucking heartstrings
a million to one
tattooed wrinkles
under duress
outlawed by the youth
alzheimers
parkinsons
walkers
death beds)
They wore suits as they melted in the s u n
The-sin-of-getting-old g e n e r a t i o n….
(CHORUS OF VOICES:
They wore the sin of getting old)
I believe whatever entity created us…created us out of love
and meant for that same love to to be our destiny…our fate.
because I can’t find it in my heart to believe a loving creator
would be so cruel as to place us upon this Earth to hate.
I believe we all have the capacity to love…it’s with us from the moment of our birth…
like how we appreciate and love all the beauty our creators placed upon this Earth.
The animals, the mountains, the rivers…the valleys, the flowers, the trees,
the sunrises, sunsets, rainbows, the butterflies, the bees.
We love the Earth and all her wonders so much…we even call her Mother…
but our problems lie when we refuse to expand our love…out to one another.
Many of us have created a space for the people we love …a safe and comfortable little box.
The dilemma occurs when we refuse to let our love grow outside of our box.
We are not meant to box our love away…not meant to put up walls around us.
Our box should be the entire world and all the people who surround us.
Love is meant to flow freely everywhere…that is the way our creators designed it
It is only humans who are confused…and try hard to confine it.
If love is meant to flow throughout the world…then our actions need to be corrected
it’s up to us as humans to tear down these walls of hate we have so arbitrarily erected..
It won’t be easy as these walls we’ve built are strong and meant to keep us all apart.
and because it takes generosity, mercy, love, understanding and time to change a bitter heart.
But it can be done…it must be done…if a kinder, gentler, more loving world we want see
If we ever want to become the people…our creators hoped for us to be.
No matter how long it takes…we must tear down these walls of hate…
but….when I think of the new world we can build…
it will be worth he wait.