Long Armistice Poems
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Ideally yours truly prefers
a she/her who never got prosecuted for a felon,
yet who most deaf fin knit lee
possesses sound blinding killer instincts
think miracle worker Anne Sullivan
signifying rendering phenomenal success
with one female named re: amazing Helen
exhibiting discerning admirable qualities
constituting intelligent witty male
despite his/him sports haunch size of a melon.
I gently beckon inspiration
for dalliance with mother tongue
English Language, each
singular lettered manifestation
familiar to yours truly symbolized
by panoply, sans twenty six letters,
whereby this patient wordsmith
luxuriates, when writer's block
yields sudden gush,
nee burst of creativity
dissolving impenetrable wall
mental log jammed impasse,
discourages literary ambitions
dashed exerted forcefulness
'pon cerebral terra incognita
counterproductive grip locks
figurative drawbridge begetting
utmost frustration allowing egress
and ingress constituting obstructed surge
temporarily disabling free and clear
transmission between damned fount
barricading abundant bajillion ideas
silent at loggerheads clangor and din
analogous between unswerving enemies
prepared to fight till the death,
exhausting mental energy expended
attempting armistice with futile results,
hence quixotic oft repeated
time tested metaphor
i.e. deliberate pressure foisted
upon seat of aging cerebral matter
inadvertently coloring fist sized organ
at least fifty shades of gray,
versus unexpurgated brainstorming
linkedin with unfettered restraint
breeds favorable prodigious ideas
jotted/ typed stream of consciousness fashion
modus operandi favorable to engender
receptive access, asper (gas) excellent see
i.e. entrance untrammeled leeway
with minimal clash of opposing
titanic invisible entities
thus, aye abandon battering ram
to experience positive outcome
giving good n plenti profuse flood
unstoppable geyser spewing
plethora of appealing material
to arrange into cogent affinity,
energy, magnanimity and synchronicity!
An excerpt from my new short story:
Contributing factors, however, are deemed as an assortment embracing negativity and were reinforcements for the young idealist. Granted to resonate by the dark lord was his underlying purpose. The premise has been appropriated. Likewise, the preceding groundwork was properly shoveled underneath. A particular young idealist realigns his outlook and foresees his fresh novel and still sought-after directive. Politics was a voracious subject, not so much academically, but it's a side subject welcomed by scholars considering it just as an extra curriculum. The topic may have been reworded, but his inner values sustain him representing his singular verbiage that goes on unwaveringly. As his agenda gathers momentum, attracting newcomers who realign their political views with his, draws the attention of the local region. Soon thereafter, the rest of the country will be on the ball, by way of his name. His political point of view which framed him since birth, now frames a country. The dark lord is on the rise bearing gifts purposed for an original firstborn. Introduced into a split family valued life of pluses and minuses, and compounded with his educational woes, evil's birthright was given a unique name. Historians, during their early stages, were amidst the golden glow of a virgin Europe, circa 1900.
It would later serve as a guide for his yet-to-be, future. WWI military losses for the Central forces were; 4,386,000, with; 3,700,000 civilian casualties. The Russian Empire conceded to the Bolsheviks Revolution who then executed the Imperial family. Military losses for the Allied forces were; 5,525,000, with; 4,000,000 civilian casualties. The German Empire ended after Kaiser Wilhelm II abdicated his throne on November 9th, 1918. Two days later on the 11th of November 1918, The Peace Armistice was signed by the newly formed, German Republic, and the Soviet Union. The end of WWI left a highly decorated Adolf, wholly confident and sharply experienced.
2/10/21
"Never Mattered"
Folks so hesitant and others far too eager
You either do or don't got a fever
Non or a true believer
In the ever after
Worlds being forever shattered
I always had to be a clever bastard
Got to get it done, can't rely on a benefactor
Had to realize certain things never mattered
Always regardless of the weather pattern
A planet full of far too many carcasses
And far too many drugs all around, even from the pharmacist
If you never give up, life can be marvelous
People support or march against
Most likely won't be, but there needs to be an armistice
Here we go, it starts again
They'll cause fights and arguments
Went right over their heads, for them it was too hard to get
Let's be honest, only made of bones, muscle, organs and cartilage
Not immune to arsenic
It can be fatal causing harm quick
The tides changed, the tables turned and the cards flipped
Near and far from any market
Earth, tile, wood or carpet
Secrets getting leaked, or they are kept
Taken serious or disregarded
People so foolish or some of the smartest
Staying bitter or having feelings of stardust
Humans are cold-blooded and evil, or they are just
I was moving towards the light, yet remaining in darkness
Until I actually turned into Clark Kent
It's not farfetched
Still beings are exaggerating, always trying their darndest
Putting forth the very hardest
And still never hitting the targets
I was always looking for someone
While living among the stars, moon and the sun
Out to live it up, not just here for love and fun
Still one hell of a son of a gun
I was always the underdog, rarely ever had a plus one
I've put my trust in some
Battles lost but the war was just won
I got it done in blood
Continually I dug in mud
I am not the one to judge
It's been years, not weeks or a month of
The drink and drugs is what I got numb from
While dealing with conundrums
Most assumed there was humdrum
Is there really anything below or up above?
Awakening From Pleasant Dreams...
No matter scant details recalled upon
arising from slumber, this even though
submerged into deep unconscious - (as
ifmine being plunged bajillion miles
subterranean catacombs) thoroughly
saturated with inaccessible facets of my
person then Poof – like a magic dragon!
Every last detail vanishes without a trace,
whence each eyelid slowly opens (never
jarred out sleep) - only my own Circadian
clock determines when (no idea how) body
electric (temporary property of mortal
christened Matthew Scott Harris) returns
yours truly to state of consciousness, or
thee closest approximation thereof, where
by sense and sense and sensibility minus
pride and prejudice immediately severed,
no longer linked tin (analogous to Internet
Error Code 404 - page not found) finds me
straining with might of Hercules - all in vain,
yet lingering drowsiness (torpor still main
training strong toehold) dissipates ever so
slowly, thus rendering ability impossible to
cogitate - quite helpful when reading or write
ting, and when cerebral clarity becomes
manifest...nary a whisper recollected, when
mean drama exploded within pitted cranial
fifty plus shades of gray matter parameters
suddenly vibrant rattletrap quiescence, a
proxy armistice snatching at lightspeed any
recollection rendering sleepyhead (non talking)
befuddled, confused, dazed... numbskull pre
vented (even with proper clearance) access to
top secrete, potential mutinous, juicy fruit
confidential data, which necessitates one
bushy eyed and bright tailed primate to scratch
his noggin with futility although well rested
fitful without ways nor means to dredge up
sunken treasures briefly uncovered during
stretch of time hide nave hoar did blink, none
zee less..., an enjoyable shuteye state of being -
allowing, enabling, and providing short lived
respite bearing down as if trying to shrug off atlas!
I live in a small pueblo where every day or so
my neighbours sweep the pavement to keep
their side of the road clean and pick up the litter
And I like Beppo the Street Sweeper in Momo
by Michael Ende who always has the time
to speak a kind word to his legendary mates
Never liked to litter with trash rubbish or garbage
but I have cast words and actions upon my fellows
sometimes in anger and others in vulnerable pain
and they need not forget forgive or reward me
for my apologies must not sanction me with a medal
‘Purple Heart’ for my own suffering through the offence
which became a junk yard for wrong actions and speech
Life is short and wasteful memories can be long
but a short ‘I am sorry’ does not do any harm
as long as its honest and not for scoring immaculate
points on a spread sheet of blemishes and deceit
From my door step I voice ‘Hola’ and ‘Que pasa?’
to the little old ladies with the curlers and brooms
Dettol in hand and staggering steps in their stride
and wish to put my failings into the recycling bin
sanitize with truthful acceptance of my part in a toxic
environment that needs a tidy up before it sticks
like dog poo on a foul conscience and reeks havoc
‘Disculpe’ and ‘Lo siento’ as a tiny ‘mea culpa’
is simply an offer of truce not a white shiny flag
of capitulation or forced armistice under duress
but Peace and social encounters are tough enough
even without grievances and self-righteous pride
I can’t turn into perfume and on some occasions
an ‘I beg your pardon’ was not granted the request
my appeal for friendship was rebuffed and thrown
straight back into my face with fierce vengeance
but more often than not a land fill site of regret was
granted a home for a sincere olive branch in the shelter
of simply doing the right thing as the best one can do
23rd May 2021
Uncle soldier Sammie
is too flashback far Saigon
The bad memory withdrawals
are too ganja gun smoke strong
So he pumps up the blame volume,
saying who’s dirty napalm wrong
He’s got a shaky second and third finger condition,
a LSD (long standing delusion) induced affliction
So spaced out on
psychedelic visions of
democracy victory
It triggers poppy field decisions,
harvesting killing yields of foreigner derision
And the mushroom drum sounds,
from the Band of Brothers’ drone bong,
bangs out “Dogs of War”
Howling in the collateral fallout air, forevermore
Heavy medal addiction is a death blow score
Uncle soldier Sammie is a military basket case
in denial retreat
Accused of tour-of-duty dereliction
Suffering dishonorably from a
PSTD defeat affliction
The mine-trippy, Private Dyan head space
has EVAC landed in a heroin casket place
Platoon power puff disgraced
has a pompous, overdose face
A light brigade of reinforcements
witness the guilt heavy medal addiction
As calvary-came-too-late, doctored ambitions
belay any battlefield truthful admission
Uncle soldier Sammie has horrible dreams
of wounded pride Rambos’
giving way to hasty withdrawals
Shrapnel images betrayed by rancor rice bowl jowls
Armistice impossible,
cache cartel condoned
Crack-ed peace pipe got IED blown
More Flanders field flowers
blowing crimson petals
to destinations unknown
Triage tears dampens the runway moans,
and the mental escape hatch
has shut safely on it’s crystal meth own
Uncle soldier Sammie
self-medicates
the missing limb pain that has grown
over the daze and years for so long
Always seeing ghastly apparitions of Cambodia —
fearful flashbacks, so far sigh gone
And the hallucinatory ghosts of Vietnam
don’t give a bog-of-war damn
08-20-21
One hundred years ago in 1921
The 15th of May a new charity begun
Amalgamating charities of which there were 4
The Royal British Legion set up to aid those from the great war.
Earl Haig and Tom Lister were the founders.
Supporting those back from Flanders
1.75 million of those that returned
Had some form of disability from amputee or minds totally burned
Then there were those wives, widows daughter's and sons.
Who's Husbands, Fathers lives had succumbed
There lives taken by the enemy
The RBL emblem became the Flanders poppy
The poppy is the symbol of Rememberance
For the sacrifice of life, so peace had a chance
Every conflict since the great war
More recentely Afghanistan, Iraq, some more obscure
Korea, Malaya, Oman and The Falklands
Servicemen and women put lives in others hands
So comemerate their passing on Armistice day
11th November sit quietly and pray
Without these sacrifices in all these wars
The world would have broken that's for sure
So every year stand still and reflect
Those that died deserve your respect
Those that survived may be stood in your town
Looking sorrowful and feeling down
The best thing you can do is show your support
Words from Brigadier Marriot " Do as you ought"
Bow your head when you hear that bugle play
Stand still and watch those on parade this Rememberance Day
Someone in your family`s history
Will have been effected by a catastrophe
Join in be proud of your countries past
Hopefully all these sacrifices are finished at last
But if not, and more wars happen
Support those military men and women
The have no choice whether to stay or go
Orders are followed, allegiance they show
For Queen and country they will fight
For your freedom and human right.
Remember them is all I say.
For your Tommorow they gave their today
Better to be bold in battle
then benign in retreat!
No victory comes from actions prattle;
May honor be found in refusing defeat -
My vaults will not be breeched
by faults,
may we have a merry waltz
devoid of all unsavory salts,
this of you I have beseeched -
On this table we have met to render fable
rich as ancient Babyl,
heralds of ancestral heros and our forces' label,
bulwarks raised above this field's haze, stalwart gaurds strong and poised,
daunting sounds of ritual carols, the primal ones that spirits praise,
what is this match but a moment for atonement,
trite tribute and humble homage if you wicked will foment,
my battalions and I are stolid, faithful, our souls not being rent,
the birds in sky like personal medallions signify for we, victory is meant,
in the center sentries stood,subterfuge, lethal blows I knew you would,
a Queen as envoy repelled rudely, religiously crude as you brood,
armistice you will seek knowing bleak the future be,
like battered egos quiet speak,loosing strength,you shall weep and sneek
to snatch the proud prey from eagle's beak, your pommel being sweaty sleek,
terrified of the Promeathean peak, of my glory you may peek,
The mellow march of my bagpipes,a pallid pitch that makes men creep
they like leary sheep my wolves will eat,
must you trust a God of glutton lust,and savor his decree,
of Athena I have asked,athwart this army made by brass,
as broken glass shattered fast it shall yeild to Her Mass,
shaken soldiers running past, your eyes will cry the slaughters vast,
pray not in vain to block our rasp, or for this fauna you'll be mast,
my blood as Emperor say you crave, oh how brave,
like a slave made the day his grave was paved,
such a man is never saved,
J.A.B. Part One -
The last time I took Pop to the big lake, the wind was so strong,
it nearly blew his wheelchair over, I knew just where to stop...
at the top of the hill, the windiest place!
I left him alone, he just looked out on the lake unblinking,
rewinding moments, that made him who he was.
In days past.....
He told me the story of his best friend in high-school, who wanted
Dad to go along with him duck-hunting on that sunny, warm morning in fall...
1940, Dad had promised my Mom (not yet married!) he would go with her
on a picnic in the bluffs along the Mississippi.... so he declined.
From sunshine and 70... to freezing white-out conditions up and down the river,
many lives were lost that day, including my Pop's best friend....
the Great Armistice Day Storm lived on in Pop's heart...
Dad went to his friend's funeral.
Or the time.....
Dad took my Grandpa (Mom's Dad) on the first vacation he had
ever been on! Grandpa worked until he died...... the Company
he worked for had tricked him, letting him work 29yrs. 11 months,
and 28 days, then firing him two days before his pension would kick-in.
Pop took him fishin' for the first time in his life! bought him a straw fishin' hat too!
Dad kept baitin' his hook and Grandpa caught 6-fish before Dad could cast a line!....
Pop called him 6-fish Bumford after that! and us kids weren't allowed to touch
Grandpa's straw-hat from that fishin' trip..... Dad kept it on a hook in his work-room
in the basement, with the words "Six Fish Bumford...My Best Friend"
scrawled under it on the wall (I still have it)
In a while, I knew it was time to bring him back......he had finished
looking out on his life....
.......he was ready to go
Gather ‘round the global table —
All ye kings of the earth,
and ye queens of the dirt
The self-anointed,
the ballot appointed
So much kilt kill filth is on your skirts!
Fate chosen leaders hellbent
to take their loyal legion of followers
on the final dark descent
As the nuclear fires of rage ascend
from the bottomless pit
of unrighteous warmongering
So be the firmament decree:
Let the last conflagration begin
Assemble together ‘round the tilted spin —
All ye lying kings of the crimson earth,
with your lyoness queens of the red dirt
The peace usurpers,
the armistice pretenders
How much bloodshed is of profitable worth?
Abyss power surges through your collective soul,
as the covetous spindle madly turns out of control
Dark reign clouds veil the brimstone sky
Ember vestiges of humanity’s lost virtues
are left blowing in the wind ...
never to be candlelight found again
Only exodus death seen mushrooming,
the last conflagration is fiery furnace starting
Pyre heaps tragically rising
from the fervent vows of heated confrontation
Heart wrenching cries is the drenching fallout
Every good hope dies
in the nuclear ashes scattered about
There won’t be enough Geiger counters
to measure the rad level of grief: A cratering shout
heard in that mourn awakening
Of this, there’s no doubt:
Nagasaki memories
are amnesia tucked in
Hiroshima dreams
Who will truly remnant cry
for the lullaby masses
on that final underground migration?
As the awful burnings above
end all the clashes
Tear reckoning be strange love
Weeps heard in the last conflagration