Long Binge Poems

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Mental Health

“It's not that we cant see the solution; it's that we cant see the problem”                            - G.K. Chesterton

It's all so crazy
The perception of our society
Are we blind; are we ignorant?
Perhaps what will be, will be

It's not that we can’t see the solution
It seems so obvious - so clear
But when you look beneath the surface 
The reality - I think that's what we really fear

We think that food is a problem
With obesity at an all time high
The truth - obesity Is a symptom
Yet, we continually close our eyes

Over half of America
Is over weight or obese
It's the leading cause of preventable deaths
However; it's not what we eat

It's what's eating us
During our days and our nights
Its the voice in our head
That tells us things aren't quite right

Food doesn't kill people
It's similar to gun control
30,000 violent deaths per year
I bet here's a fact you don't know

Of the 30,000 violent deaths
18,000 are suicides
You're right - guns do kill people
But we never ask people why they want to die

The solutions may seem clear
But stress, anxiety, and fear still remains
It's not food or the guns
That elicit the majority of life's pain

So let's have a drink
That will help us to relax and unwind
Here, have another
It's a sophisticated red wine

According to a National Survey
86 percent  reportedly drink
26 percent binge
That's a lot don't you think?

An estimated 88,000 people 
Die from alcohol-related causes per year 
It's the third leading preventable cause of death in the United States
The solution? - address, don't try to drink away what you fear

So what's the real problem?
Here, I'll take the sacrificial dive
I'll use logic and reason
A method we use in other areas of our lives

It's not eating or drinking 
That’s causing our pain
In modernity
It's the mental health of our brain

It's what we value
It's who we choose to idolize
It's the trivially matters
The distorted sense of self we despise

When we learn to face facts
Prioritize what we do
When we value virtue
Compassion manifest - love will carry us through

We’ll choose take smaller bites 
Have one drink to unwind
We’ll have a gun for protection
Moderation - the Golden rule still applies

It's not that we can’t see the problem
It’s that we won't look at the disease
The solution?
Address mental health - please
Form: Rhyme


Just In Case You Wondered

Just in case you wondered...

Yours truly, (i.e. I) quickly
became hypnagogic afore
subsequently segueing soundly
into autohypnosis booklore,
while binge reading courtesy

regarding aptitude chore
treasure trove books galore
five dollars as many
paginated fictitious stories ('bout deplore
hubble basket cases) fit into authorized bag
infernal challenge sifting evermore

alum skid more or less
bending and reaching skyhigh
toe tilly (ejaculating
what the heel) footsore
compromising writing, rather heretofore
indulging insatiable knowledge

(surpassing narcotic fix),
the world wide web hide ignore
engrossed various and sundry
enchanting, kickstarting, and revelling - bonjour
dear reader buzzfeeding...

Till chief hankering
(regarding appeasing passionate
word loving aficionado,
albeit temporarily ceased
(think intellectual fancy feast)

getting imagination (mine) linkedin
outspeeding lightning greased
experiencing cerebral capacity increased
virtual make believe
terra incognita leased.

insatiable jabberwocky yen
countless hours elapsed when
inconvenient wont head sleep
wracked courtesy (bowling) ten

pins nabbed mettlesome ambulation
often found me - hen (pecked) hex pen
sieve dishabille scattered brained brute
somnambulant analogous awake burning ken
kindled smoldering cognitive tinder even...

Chilly cooling off, where
temporal lobed hiatus taken
beefing portfolio in effort to scare
back poetic proclivity despite near
severe withdrawal symptoms
reacquainting novelty here
with effort to jog capacity
to craft poem quite aware...

Unsuspecting readers breathed
sigh of relief interim joker I went absent
posting trademark gobbledygook,
now unnamed fool rushes in,
where angels fear to tread - nay cent

return of native son unequivocally, pinterestingly
digitally... afore written dive versification
brandishing said as unsung literary event
psalm time sacrilegious Jew bull gent
bringing entertainment intent
to thee anonymous

analogously, humorously, and parenthetically
lamely affecting (i.e. poorly emulating)
Shakespearean belles lettres,
perhaps coronavirus pathogen
t'will cut me down, whereby

microbial size Clark Kent,
whoops twas Lois Lane I meant
to empower one meek and obedient
primate even during
but, and, or conjunctive
rutting season quiescent.

October Seventeenth Ninety Sixty One

October seventeenth ninety sixty one ...

Born sixty one years ago,
the follow poem from your bro
transmitted courtesy flagship
named Jacques-Yves Cousteau
constituting countless ones and zeroes
instantaneously traversing cyberspace
as packeted, framed dataflow
binary digits bit of information
to acknowledge when
thee transitioned being an embryo

(approximately the second
to eighth week after fertilization)
approximately nine months prior,
whose birth marked debut
of bouncing daddy's little girl,
whose inquisitiveness nourished
birthed perception buzzfeeding
capital one earthlinked baby
fostering, kickstarting, and
orchestrating cognitive aptitude,

who throughout storied existence,
which kudos ye
proudly promulgate to and fro
hither and yon across
social media platforms
understandably, opportunistically, and
humbly letting family and friends
across the webbed wide world
know amazing accomplishments,
when ye did initially grow

from being precocious genetic pedigree
into a whip smart self confident
globe trotter, whose curriculum vitae
dwarfs (by powers of seven)
feeble accomplishments of mine,
went thee invested with a heigh-ho
positive state of mind
every endeavor undertaken
(in one physically gruelling instance)
biking, hiking, riding

to your private Idaho
(fast as a B-52)
versus humdrum life of one common Joe,
whose heightened perception
aside from singing the praises
of admiration toward youngest sister
after countless years, he failed to know
about her trials and tribulations
exercising your potential to the maximum
invariably feeling dog tired

with a dose of lumbago
thrown in for good measure
nevertheless adept as bilingual person
quite helpful travelling
to Spanish speaking countries
during your roaring twenties off to Mexico,
and just recently taking a jaunt
to Portugal donned accruing
vibrant sense and sensibility
treasuring richly pocketing nouveau

memories attracting natural outgrow
of ardent followers, whether online
or in flesh, who clamor for selfie photo
with thee and steadfast husband
unlike henpecked wife of mine
enjoyable as pesky miss Quito
who pesters me to get off computer
so she can binge watch Netflix
hence adieu as I hop on my cubii
off to complete
another stationary roadshow.
Form: Rhyme

Saturday Night's Alright For Sleeping

It's gettin' late and
                                             we couldn't wait.
Me and Ma      just downed         12 cold beers.
It's seven o'clock 
                                 and we both are crocked.
And my drug dealer’s fi-nal-ly here.

My ole Dad’s a stinkin’ like
                    a skunk who’s been binge drinkin’
as my poor Mom       slumps           in her chair.
My sister looks hot 
                                   after smoking some pot.
I’m hoping that she’ll                 surely share-a!

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! – 

C'mon and give me some medications!
I've had it with your saccharine!
Whoa! Saturday Night's alright for sleeping.
Getta little shut-eye in.
Gonna be as sleepy as Van Winkles brain.
Gonna set my clock – yeah, right!
Cause Saturday Night’s tonight, goodnight!
Saturday Night’s tonight – Goodnight…Goodniiiiiiight!

Woooooooh!Oooooooh!Ooooh!Ooooh!Ooooh!

Well I’m whacked fairly tight 
                                                  and feeling light.
Taking one more Percocet               will do me right.
I may slug some Robitussin 
                                         and suck-in some weed.
Popping three more oxycontins will be
                                                          all I’ll need!

A couple-of-a drugs that are really keen
Are Sominex and Nytol 
                                                  with doxylamine.
I'm a juvenile junkie                 who hasn’t any class
Watching Motrin PM tablets 
                                                      fizz in a glass.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! – 

C'mon and give me some medications!
I'm tired of potassium!
Saturday Night's alright for sleeping.
Getta couple Zzzz-Zzzz’s in.
Gonna guzzle Ny-Quil ‘til I feel no pain.
Pullin’ down my shades real tight.
Cause Saturday Night’s tonight, goodnight!
Saturday Night’s tonight – Goodnight…Goodniiiiiiight!

Oooooooh!Oooooooh!Ooooh!Ooooh!Ooooh!

Saturday…Saturday!
Saturday…Saturday…Saturday!
Saturday…Saturday…Saturday!
Saturday Night, goodnight!

Saturday…Saturday!
Saturday…Saturday…Saturday!
Saturday…Saturday…Saturday!
Saturday Night, goodnight!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!


For: Mr. John Heck
Dear John contest - Elton John (music)/Bernie Taupin (lyrics)
Sung to the tune of: Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting
Form: Lyric

Osama Docudrama

Itinerant mercenary shrouded with penitent robe
Shining beacon for terrorists around the globe
Hermetic curmudgeon; gun-toting xenophobe
Zealous provacateur who for ardent jihadists did probe

Material wealth a means; establishing a caliphate the end
Seeking Arab-royalty's, sovereign-sheikdoms to rend
Scourge of terror to blight all that western values defend
Sharia law to govern Middle East; Allah's dividend

Great Satan's engine to throttle
Region's fealty to bottle
Suicide pilots struck the monuments we coddle
Gratuitious shards and blood stains did the landscape mottle

President Bush promised swift revenge
Ordered Taliban to stop Osama's bloody binge
Mullah Omar reneged; Bushes' saber rattling had a malodorous tinge
U.S forces did the Taliban's quarters singe

Alquaida's overseas operations are diminished
But Alquaida's mission not finished
Alquaida cells in Iraq, Afghanistan bravely battle, mettle distinguished
Nevertheless, the infidel forces not extinguished
 
Gitmo detainees probed for information
Trite torture brought about stunning reformation
Stressed warrior's fealty to leader declined in isolated station
Under duration, divulged details about Bin Laden's method of operation

Osama's couriers cover blown
Seeds for fruitful harvest are sown
Courier's redoubt canvassed with satellite, drone
Intelligence on compound, residents CIA did hone

Calculated risk; Navy Seals in choppers did alight
Flying quietly with fiery portents into the calm night
Hoping the briny tentacles of terror to blight
Cresting over the shadowy compound; objective in sight

Down the dangling ladders vigilant Seals did repel
Into the throes of darkness descending into the mouth of hell
Perimeter defense, early warning signals were of no avail
Osama's stunned tenants could only stand fast or bail

Each obstacle, human shield the Seals did meticulously fell
Carefully following the trail to the Holy Grail
Entering Osama's room, rending the sacral veil
The caged warrior with precision did shell

Osama's dead body packed in a unmarked crate
Transported vicariously to lab, identity to equate
Identity confirmed; vigilant menace had met his fate
Un-consecrated remains tossed into sea; watery tomb his final estate
Form: Quatrain


Redundant Love

i dont know what im scared of
im scared to fall in love with you
scared that i may mess it up
i dont know this game
I've had zero practice and im not intimate at all
in fact i cringe at stuff like that
and to think i MUST do it to prove my love
my affection?
well excuse my ignorance, for i did not know
im scared that i'll do too much, or too little
i wont be able to handle you when you cry
i wont be able to be with you every time life pokes you in the eye
i'll blame myself for the smallest arguments
and i struggle to apologize, not that im incapable
but i really like proving my point
my point of all this being: i dont trust myself.
it sounds cheesy but its not you, its me
truly, i am the problem
i have too many problems and im trying to solve them
and i know you'll get tired of it, i wont blame you
and when you do leave, i'll feel even worse than i did when i was with you
i'll have to avoid you, walk past you in the halls in complete silence, icing your presence
i'll have to listen when our friends talk about you while my heart aches in silence.
i'll have to stumble upon old pictures and text messages that'll set me back on my progress
i'll have to listen to sad, heartbreaking music and binge netflix movies, eat ice cream straight out of the tub
i'll have to become less productive as im still hurting
while i believe you've moved on and hurts me further
you could feel like you wasted months of your life with me, because you did
you could feel like you accomplished less and sacrificed more because of me
you could feel like you did everything while i did nothing
you could feel like you were dumb for believing i was THE ONE, and you weren't dumb
i just couldn't live out the expectations, i knew i couldn't and i still led you astray
i know all of this will happen if we do get together
we have the best chemistry, we can talk for hours and hours, we know a lot about each other and are comfortable with each other
as friends
once we cross the barrier, i dont know 
i feel like something clicks and i become less
thats when the issues start
so baby im sorry, its really not you, its me
i dont expect you to understand
see, i did it again
im scared to love you
im scared to fall in love
and im fine with it.

Ten Up

#84

TEN UP

10^0  

Ten to the zero is really just one,
positive power, its a whole, not a part.
We don’t move from the decimal,
it’s just where we start.

10^3

Ten cubed, or a kilo,
when dealing in drugs.
It’s a measure in metrics,
it’s the math of the thugs.

10^6

Ten to the sixth, or one million we say,
a number so big, you truly will cringe.
It’s the needed storeage for data,
we’ll use to stream in a binge.

10^9

Ten to the ninth!  A billion or look...
it’s near the wealth of Bill Gates.
He’s fifty times this base and exponent,
let’s buy his stock at the lowest rates.

10^12 

Ten to the twelfth, a trillion, so great!
In the Lascaux caves with ancient heart,
it’s the number of years,
since they painted this art.


10^15

Ten to the fifteenth, a quadrillion for scale,
one hundred seventy light-years, is this.
We could travel to Kappa Andromedae b,
a Super Jupiter planet, we’d not wanna miss.

10^18

Ten to the eighteenth, just a quintillion!
It’s all for the counting in our niche, 
in molecules, for one drop of water,
or gains of sand on one beach. 

10^ 21

Ten to the twenty-first, or sextillion, not less,
while counting this high to figure it out.
It’s the stars in the universe,
in total, on their misty nebula route.

10^24

Ten to the twenty-fourth, septillion the count.
It’s a layer of dollars covering the ground,
a blanket of money, each inch of the earth,
a kilometer thick, and easily found.

10^-3 and falling...

Be glad I didn’t go this other way,
with negative exponents dividing so small.
A ten raised to three, going left to a minus,
to Planck scale and shrinking, to nothing at all.


Given the powers of ten for such ease,
dividing with negatives, or growing in positives. 
You’ll find you won’t need to write so many zeros,
when grappling big numbers and their causatives.


When meeting the sciences with powers of ten,
then quite easily, you’ll see all the fun!
Writing scales of the universe, or quantum realms,
in plus or minus, starting with zero, or one.

-Edlynn Nau 
©April 2, 2019
For anyone trying to understand huge numbers!  
Inspired by Neil deGrasse Tyson, and by students trying to 
make sense of scale.
© Edlynn Nau  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Whys Don’t Wise Me Up

What do I know, what do I know of you, Lord?
I know what you divulge. I know if I dig deep enough.
I’m not required to take a shovel, but to trust you,
as if that friend that waits to catch me as I fall.
You do catch me, even if I don’t see the effect.
Whys don’t wise me up, but between the cracks
you expose the deeper things and fruit matures
instead of weeds.  L  O  V  E
                                        is the greatest produce.
     J  O  Y ~
                   happiness within our hope.
                                                      P  E  A  C  E
   that passes ALL understanding…
                    P  A  T  I  E  N  C  E
         under pressure, as we wait for the greater reward,
for our hearts want to jump too quickly.
               God’s slowness is mercy.         K  I  N  D  N  E  S  S
                                                  toward our
                                         fellow
                                   man
G  O  O  D  N  E  S  S   not of our own making, but His.
                                      G  E  N  T  L  E  N  E  S  S ~
               that spot-on touch from heaven
                    that wipes all tears
                         that quietly holds a friend or stranger’s hand.
            F  A  I  T  H  F  U  L  N  E  S  S ~
                                         showing up, every time, at least
in thought or prayer, but yes, oh yes, showing up between
     the cracks, when time stands still, when the clock won’t
          q
            u
              i
               t
                                                         and
when you want to binge, scream, die, keep an eye on
                      S  E  L  F  ~ C  O  N  T  R  O  L.   You are not
   in control, but the Spirit of God
          will catch your lows
               carry you high
                     into His bosom
                          where you lay your head
                                and He dries ALL your tears
                                     and He washes your robe in  HIS  blood
                                           that WHITE robe, precious.

                           Lest we forget, HE is our happily-ever-after.

The Three Little Wigs

White and powdered dressed in black coats                                                                       Upholding lawlessness with finesse         		                                                                           With forked breath they express                                                                                             Their jargon they bargain as they burrow and laso                                                        Freedom with ease legally they are not the west of pacos                                                        Two rights are never wrong where the morality rules                                                              The Law is good when a lawful tool                                                                                        Only when the vilest of men so pretend to be as sheep                                                           For punishment of doer's not to be themselves evil reap's                                                         That is when life liberty persuit of happiness are infringed                                                          Drinking up the law of the land like cheap wine they binge                                                    With greedness they leave you rubbing your chin again                                                           Seated for life was a founding oversite                                                                                             We have something to say it is not to late to make a date                                                             For political correction for terms and re-election                                                                     When you see the wolve's affections                                                                                     In your court they will not your grievance's address                                                                 I do not digress a call for redress                          	                                                             God the giver riegn's supreme the Law he spoke                                                	             Not for men to change or misquote
© John Beam  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Dressing Up

It's always a chore to make...and still,
   when Halloween comes, I find the will.

   I don't rent or buy costumes you see,
   but dress myself up like I want to be.

   I don't trick or treat as I am too old,
   yet, I do it for the kids coming to my door so bold.

   Once I stuffed an old shirt and jeans
   With rags and paper and other things.

   Then I pinned it to the clothing I wore,
   Four arms, four legs...who could want more?

   One year I wrapped myself in aluminum foil,
   Just to see if some of those kids I could roil.

   I wasn't exactly the Tin Man of Oz's fame,
   But the neighborhood all thought me quite insane.

   Having pinned stuffed animals to my shirt one time
   The "stuffed shirt" routine was more than a crime.

   I have been hunchbacked and straight laced just for the kids,
   Some come to my door, just to see what I did.

   Last year I took a soft ball and pinned it atop my shoulder,
   No, it wasn't there to look like a boulder.

   I put a facemask and hat on it you see,
   Two heads were better than one, when the kids looked at me.

   I've gone to a party wearing shorts 'neath my overcoat,
   But being such a flimsy "Flasher", I could not emote.

   So, I took the strobe from my camera and held it inside,
   Then, when I opened my coat...FLASH...got everyone wide eyed.

   I don't do parties for Halloween any more,
   Too much work, passing out candy at the door.

   But, I still dress up for the kids to know,
   That you don't have to buy a costume when imagination will do.

   I will wear some wierd outfit that I have tried to do well,
   Then yank open the door screaming..."Who's ringing that bell"?

   It is often fun to see the reactions my costumes bring each year,
   They generally don't know what awaits them here.

   It's only once a year that I go on this binge,
   The littlest ones never cease to cringe.

   Some will run to their parents standing in the drive,
   Wondering if such a creature could be alive.

   But they eventually come back to reap their treats.
   In spite of my bombastic costumal feats.

   So, if you come to my door just beware,
   More than a crazy poet, you might find here.
Form: Couplet

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