Long Battened Poems
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Das Decrements Describe Digs ©
Grasping figurative literary straws
poetic theme yielded
farfetched aggregate
i.e., where each dwelling
listed as figurative Stormy bedmate,
this nada so eminent (Eminem fan)
lived since the year MM at:
1148 greentree lane,
724 railroad avenue, and
2 highland manor drive, which
defy obvious numerical pattern relationship,
albeit tougher than dismantling
an atomic bomb
Fermi (Enrico) to create
least common denominator
nonetheless, aye delineate
laughably limpid, loquaciously lumped,
and ludicrously as an Uber Lyft
(please lemme look foolish)
evincing desperate clamor
ring blather already
prepping myself for fallout after,
I post very tenuous
schema attempting to enumerate
loosely linkedin previous
to present physical addresses
straining credulity to formulate
formulaic relationship between
street numbered residential places,
futile endeavor mathematical
relationship to generate
readying myself (hatches
being battened down) against
first responder, who
doth dare to humiliate,
this self serving ingrate
gnome hatter hood
awkwardly entwine goofily integrate
ting (Spike Lee's
She's Gotta Have It)
"FAKE" self importance,
sans presenting schema
with literary Bo Jangles
flourishes, that (EGADS) doth jaculate
utter cheek to jowl (consonant
to vowel) outstanding
Uttar Pradesh Khanate,
nonetheless strives to
feign making Genghis
(alias Matthew Scott)
Harris heirs legitimate
if necessary calling on
Trump to mandate
and/or asking supreme
court to necessitate
putting sanctions against
quasi (moe toe)
POTUS oxymorons
so American totalitarianism
can freely operate
in tandem with
Putin to participate!
The steersman dry-heaves
into rolling scuppers,
the skipper dozes fitfully in his sodden berth
spew dribbling from a tossed piss pot.
The deck is also heaving; for three days
the rain-lashed ship has rode the high waves,
shipping sea into cabins and holds,
wind-torn canvas were carried away,
a shattered mainmast dragging the wallowing hull,
and the storm still growling in the winds teeth.
The crew are battened down and sick,
but sea-chests and dunnage must be stacked
clews, lines, and tackle winched, cinched, or tarred,
rubble and timber hacked and swept overboard.
The nimble must climb gratings,
grapple unhitched rigging, go aloft
to knot and unravel torn nettings
and flying ropes.
Then from a swaying crows-nest
a lookout sees a distant storm gull:
“Sighting! Steer away,” comes a gusty shout.
Now the quick dry throats of boson and bosons mate
roar the crew to their stations.
The clipper shudders, comes about,
foresails backing and filling.
The craft luffs and tacks to race ahead of the gale
following that feathered rumor of hope and landfall.
The ships log narrated all this, and more,
when it surfaced to float in a plastic kiddy pool
somewhere near the Jersey shore.
Tired of feeling sleepy today - August 17th, 2019
Lashed with fatigue,
eye cannot fend off lethargy
hazy, hot, humid weather zaps
mental physical, and spiritual energy
even men of cloth
various and sundry clergy.
Undoubtedly summoning Parson Brown
currently out of season,
though stratospheric demand
for his person now
unprecedented as summer
dog days force physical slowdown,
nonetheless he would
experience immediate meltdown
booked solid throughout
"Winter Wonderland,"
when deep freeze
doth make clampdown,
no matter sung by masses
with uncertain reason
caroling 'bout said enigmatic figure
heard in every hamlet
or sprawling boomtown
belted clear as bell
o'er nor'easter howl
undeterred by polar vortex windblown
chilling atlas shrugged
off undaunted facedown
weathering arctic blast
making snow angels
comfortably numb jollity reverses frown
even elderly folks
sport about though grown
spry stick figures shoveling tunnel
courtesy white blanketed lockdown
"careful ma am" not
to fall on keister or crown.
Presence of said parson
linkedin with spate
of blizzard conditions and
Frosty the Snowman,
whose power to bring society
to standstill will not abate
proof positive to commander
in chief who cannot extricate
whether from climate, and trumpets
what he doth cogitate
dismissing global warming -
calling out "end of debate"
twill usher doomsday, cuz he
and trolling henchmen skate
on thin ice, and whose
dawdling crass, base
actions only accelerate
day of wreck conning
when most species will
lack mien ways to acclimate
all the more rhyming reason
to bid mortality adieu
and slumber permanently
battened down hatches
with me sigh ease oompa loompa mate.
It was a night so dark, so damp; the fog swirled thick about the lamp,
a night not fit for man or beast, a night on which tender hearts ceased
to care about mankind's suffering, so nasty was the storm buffeting
the tiny humble New England town, its weathered cape cods all battened down.
When of a sudden a cry rang out, piercing the fog with a shriek and a shout:
Did it herald the dawn of a better day? --Or just proclaim, "Man's lost his way."
Shutters opened, blinds upward flew; Denizens craned their necks for a ring-
side view.
Where was the man who'd issued the cry? Was it a sign of life, or would they
all die?
Just then a riderless horse galloped down, streaking its way through the town,
tossing its mane right then left; of its mystery rider long sine bereft:
Whence the cry had come, no one could tell; when an unearthly voice, straight from Hell
split the night with a ghastly shriek; shutters slammed tight--no one dared
peek,
As the horse veered away, frightened itself, by the Devil's advance along with
his elfs,
Crescendoes of wailing blackened the night--of a poor humble town in a fight for its life.
The storm was approaching, we thought... should we scramble?
To stay may be risky, should we take the gamble?
We had our provisions, and we thought "We're prepared".
We bought batteries, and candles, and in no way impaired.
The windows we shuttered, and we battened the hatches,
Stocked up on propane, canned goods, and more matches.
The skies rained down, oh the strong winds we heard,
Debris flying everywhere, the sight was absurd.
The weather channel, we watched with impending doom,
As the storm changed it's path, we now needed a safe room.
The eye passed over, and all was eerily silent,
Then the wind switched directions, becoming even more violent.
The roof held tight, but the shingles they flew,
We stayed huddled together, what else could we do?
The large palm trees blew over, and the windows they rattled.
When it was finally over, what a storm we had battled.
We walked outside, feeling like survivors of war,
But we had no idea, what was really in store.
There were houses destroyed, and dreams that were shattered,
Our car was still there, but it looked pretty battered.
The friends and neighbors they came, and we all worked together,
We would build all again, and hope it lasts forever.
-Mary Waldeck
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.
As we sit here in the middle of the storm
So many are starting to think that this is the norm
That the worst has past, at least to some
But that feeling won’t last for the worst is yet to come
And though the sun may still shine
And everything else appears to be just fine
The real force and destruction has yet to be shown
And such death has never before been known
There is something nowadays that is so easy to detect
It’s a common simple lack of God fearing respect
All bundled up with the hatches battened down
Leaving a quite eeriness in every single American town
For soon the winds will again begin to blow
And at that time, it will be too late to know
Today is the time to at least start to prepare
Because before you know it that chance won’t be there
It rained that day -
incessant, driving rain
that mirrored my watery brokenness.
Teeming tears, teeming rain, teeming torrents
of gnawing, agonizing pain.
It rained that day -
overpowering the inefficient
stressed out drain. A gurgling back-flow
of uncomfortable memories re-surging
in my mind again.....and again,
as the rained poured -
bitterness and streaming resentment
onto the saturated ground.
The only sound the beating downpour
on the tinkling window pane,
and I watch it falling.........
falling apart ....
like the shards of my heart;
blade shaped, and stabbing mercilessly
at once precious memories now irreversibly tarnished
as they gush, tumbling down that overburdened drain.......
swirling in the sewage, wasted, acrid smelling,
torrential.....then gone from sight -
like you, gone, held tight, but gone, with the rain
down the drain, never to be seen again .........
It rained that day -
the day you left me bereft and
devoid of emotion. Sore from emotional misuse.
Untrusting. Hatches battened. Defences built;
walls constructed never to be scaled.
It rained for a while,
but today the sun shone.
COVID-19
They christened her Corona, and not to be dismissed
The blight that made the planet, get its knickers in a twist
They closed the universities, and then they closed the schools
The world was in a panic because no one knew the rules
We soon ran out of toilet roll and the pasta disappeared
Sanitizer was no more and the various shelves were cleared
They brought in social distancing, self isolation too
We battened down the hatches from the microbes that accrue
All the sport was cancelled, the nightclubs had to shut
The bars then called last orders and life was in a rut
Things were getting serious; our lives were all in shock
Days just watching telly, and staring at the clock
A cure will come from somewhere, to make us well again
A welcome antitoxin from this self imposed constrain
Yet someone is responsible for causing this whole mess
A Government, a Military, who took things to excess
This may possibly be my last poem( for a while anyway)
And is dedicated to all the poets who are about to meet
Matthew within the next few days ----say your prayers
be safe----and after Matthew leaves ----show Love---
be thank full and be kind to others, Thanks and God Bless
A shadow like none other
Slowly creeps along the ground
As storm clouds twist then turn and roll
With winds, that eery sound
The cats all run, the bird all fly
There's no one to be found
That's just the way it is
When Matthew comes to town
The men all shrink, the women cry
Where babies tears abound
And all is lost, if it's not tied
Battened or nailed down
There is no light, that comes with day
And hope's just not around
So, we'll just sit and pray away
When Matthew comes to town