Long Blue cheese Poems

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Blue Cheese

But for your manifestation in dried pulp 
Minds neglect your invasion 
The crave for you unquenchable .

Lime light shining on your possessors 
Underdogs gazing loathsomly at your managers
Soo powerful you send jolts down the spine of those 
Witness your prowess 
Making your wish their command 
Like a squirrel in snowing forest minds omit not knowledge of your perpetuated asylum .

Unfathomable is your innocence yet 
Loyal to the most guilty of all
Reward for lunacy, you are showered 
Hands that are most stained,
On the strong that preyed on the weak .

Though a two edged sword though has done
More evil than good 
My only kudos goes to your being a scale
Used to measure the integrity of the grey haired 
 The thought of you power  has pushed conscience 
Off the cliff, dethroned regrets and burnished admonition 
Breeding sycophants to ldolise ur deeds.
Blindfold made of ornaments, and sustained by aroma of luxury we all trudge along like wildebeests 
Neglecting the wails of agony resulting from the excruciating pain of bodies trampled upon

Like a countdown you are always the alpha in
The scale, preferred to any other form gratitude.
Your absence like a deficiency inflicted your victims 
With timidity,loyalty, linferiority complex and self doubt 
Panacea produced by unconventional means

Like a miracle you heal by touch alone
Making tongues lie, hands soiled in blood 
Just to possess you
Should your crime be documented,the whole world
Can't contain it, yet your place of Adobe still remains every paper's dream

Thief! You ought to be hanged for stealing our mind and thoughts,but the hanges man
Couldn't resist the pleasures and charisma you
Could be exchanged for.
In the law court should you be prosecuted for looting 
Our cultural treasures and value
Judas couldn't resist the comfort you could offer him
You are the the token assassin's collect for the elimination of boredom

Am l an exception? 
My sword is out of the furnace and ready for exploit
I rather pile you up or die trying


Innocence

Whom the horse is looking for
Every day in the scarlet breeze
It comes and taps at the door
Have you forgotten your blue cheese

Is it the one I dream of
Accompanied by the charged shiver
Especially when I am burnt out
Like the lean exhausted river

The last time I saw it
In blue light it stood
The pink link it signalled me
I was in a restless wood

I tried to recall
Where had I seen it
The tempest and the thunder squall
Then the ocean of the mist

But how come I am morose
I have got nothing to do
With this equine inquiry
Then what for the blues overdose

But the residual pink remains
I have seen it somewhere
Beside the blue Euphrates?
My another mind inquired

A Freudian explained me
Your horse misses you
Your bosom friend of the boyhood
Longs for a hue or two

He reached me a magazine
Inside I came across the faces
Of lovely blonde and black women
In very skimpy dresses

I couldn't remove my eyes
Was in a reverie
What is it, the analyst asked
Is it the equine spree?

Was the horse now inside me?
Something I felt scary
Does Mathew still hold good
Was it the visual adultery?

From above 
Dropped a dew
Are you living still 
In the age of Mathew

Was it the horse
Yes, said he
Goading you
Into harmless  glee

And my thoughts 
Went astray
Last night in Paul's house
How charmingly in the sofa she lay

The tremor in the cup of tea
Now the horse again for the infidelity
I knew it for sure
It was the mental adultery

Now Mathew not alone
Beside him glared Mark
I was in a blind cone
This crimson sky how to shirk

Tush tush
Smiled the analyst
Without the child
You can't exist

You are living in the light speed life
It is the child that slows you down
Makes you smile amidst your strife
In the mirror you wear a crown



February 12,  2018

Loss of an Innocent Mind - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Borrow

I went to my neighbors
To ask for a favor
And said may I borrow
Stuff I need tomorrow,
But she stopped me short
With this stunning retort:

“Do you need sugar cane
Drano for a clogged drain
Or perhaps some flour
Or did you lose power.”
I answered, “I just need…”
And she quickly agreed
Saying, “I have some Spam
About twenty-five cans
Cigarettes, mayonnaise
Both purebreds and strays

Magnets, plus insurance
Some ants, plants, and sweatpants
China made in China
Not North Carolina
Ten pair of tie dye shirts
Ten yards of processed dirt
Ten to the tenth power
Of mushrooms in my yurt”

Which all made my head spin
So I tried to butt in
But she instantly asked
“About what kind of mask
That you might need today
One to keep sparks at bay
Or for trick-or-treating
Or surgery hygiene

A briefcase full of Yen
Gray chickens and their pen
A toaster, and dartboard”
I thought, ‘Oh my dear lord’
She then gave me some keys
To an old Mercedes
And before I said ‘Please
Stop this nonsense Louise’
I had her brand new skis
And two wheels of blue cheese

Plus her dear husband’s will
Old tapes of Benny Hill
Plus a trailer, camper
Clean clothes in a hamper
Her live slug collection
Which I shouldn’t mention
She lent me her uncle
I tried saying ‘uncle’
But got two turtledoves
And three chinchilla gloves

She gave me an ulcer
But I couldn’t repulse her
I utterly pleaded
To ask what I needed
But she still went ahead
No matter what I said
Until I yelled ‘I’m done
Though I just wanted one
As I ran out of limes
Now I ran out of time’

She put her stuff aside
And then ran back inside
I still had a few things
Like scissors and ring dings
While the pure breds and strays
Zipped right by in a blaze
She came back and said, ‘I’m
Giving you my last lime
And since you’re out of time
I have plenty in stock.’
I then left with a clock.
Form: Rhyme

Food For Thought

After Eight Mints
Anchovies
Apple Pancakes
Applesauce
Atlantic Cod
Barbecue Sauce
Black Bean Soup
Blue Cheese
Blueberry Pancakes
Brussels Sprouts and Lamb
Buttermilk
Caribou Liver
Carrots
Cauliflower
Chicken Breast
Chicken Patty
Chicory Roots
Chocolate Pudding
Chocolate Pudding !!!
Cinnamon Raisin Bagel
Coffee Cake
Coleslaw
Donkey Balls
Dried Plums
Durian Fruit
Garlic
Garlic Roast Chicken
Green & Yellow Peppers
Green Leaf Lettuce
Grilled Cheese
Hamburger
Hashed Brown Potatoes
Honey Pops
Horseradish
Iron Steak
Jellied bouillon with frankfurters
Jelly Sandwich
Marinara Sauce
Melba Toast Crackers
Milky Way Bar
Mozzarella Cheese
Muffins
Onions
Pasta Shells
Peanut Butter
Plain Bagel
Pot Pie
Potato Medley
Potatoes
Queso Asadero
Salisbury Steak
Shredded Gruyere
Shrimp
Smoked Chicken Sandwich
Smoked Ham
South-western Sandwich
Turkey Pastrami on Rye
Waffles
Weight Watchers Chicken Enchiladas
Whole Wheat Bread


He comments Beuys’ art
they hang to his dentalia
in slimy appearance
menus on wrapping paper

then

note the mental thing
yes, yes, he said so,
and where are the nuts
the crackers, the slow food

crisscross
crosscriss

a cookie with my coffee
still harvests thoughts
wrong war thoughts
so wrong during the war

November sun

warms a sanitary finger
and goldfish in my hand
hidden under fallen leaves
in brown memories

alma


Explanation
              Joseph Beuys is a controversial artist, one of his
              works is called 'food for thought'.  I saw this at
              the museum of psychiatry when I guided some folks;
              theme of the exposition was  "lost in memory".
              Next to the museum is the garden where 3 of my
              sculptural works can be visited. We did so.

Spring Equinox 2019

Spring Equinox 2019 ™®©- çø!a

Wednesday, March 20, 2019
out of hibernation,
sans mancave, I will climb
specifically at 5:59 Post Meridiem

eastern standard time,
when calendrical, celestial,
and chronological prime
airy factors mark

onset of temperate clime
mitt, also coincides with
'super worm equinox moon,'
to this Earthling, would appear
no larger than a dime

though ironically enough,
said satellite of Earth
closest to this oblate spheroid
whatever esoteric tidbit may be worth,
yet unwittingly inviting once in a
blue cheese moon opportunity
to espy with naked eye lunar dearth

of life, nor feasible conditions
warrant sear ching colonizing ahoy
by an adventurous space cowboy,
but perhaps convenient

launch pad to employ
entrepreneurial minded profiteers,
whether Jewish or goy
establishing other worldly
getaway to enjoy

reprieve, asper burgeoning
hardy madding crowd
populating nearly every square inch,
sans third rock from the sun, a proud

arrogant, defiant, haughty,
et cetera species predominantly cloud
ding, glomming, mucking, et cetera
exploiting courtesy manifest destiny

bajillion year old planet as if endowed
by divine creator to trumpet "FAKE"
supremacy, tis not white in my mind
declaring might equals right unbowed

credo selfishly amassing untold wealth
ideally at expense and health
of every others by fiat, force and stealth
consigning subjects to slavery
in an effort to rule global commonwealth,

which self centered 
aggrandizement that ball
(pockmarks most visible hall
of the moon tin king)
did not return my call

and thoroughly explains
without rhyme and reason
why what appears as face on lunar surface
actually migrants of Stonehenge vestial wall.


Premium Member No Clouds In Sight

Today, I was determined to fly a kite;
There was plenty of wind with no clouds in sight.
Strenuously I checked the strength of the twine;	 
I didn’t want any troubles fouling up my line.
The knots that I tied were quite snug;
Each line was checked with a mighty tug.
Then I attached an elongated tail
To the kite’s bamboo frame with a trusty nail.
The kite’s blue silk was speckled with dots, 	 
Like blue cheese with a bunch of white spots. 	
I picked up the kite; I started to run;
As I fed out some line, the kite soared straight for the sun;   
I could only squint as I felt the sun’s rays;
It scorched my inquisitive gaze.
Suddenly, I felt an uncomfortable lurch
As the kite fell from its lofty perch;
I raised the bobbin in the opposite direction,
Quite certain I made the appropriate correction. 
As time marched by, the sun’s glow faded;
Threatening clouds sprang up deeply shaded.
The warm air vanished; the wind began to howl;
The lightning was on the prowl.
The kite began to yaw; the sky to fall;
Like a numbing dread came the squall.			 
Torrents of rain thrashed against my face;  
Nothing dry was left to chase.  
Lightning stretched across the angry sky;
After a pause, there was a thunderous cry. 
I never before lost a kite, nor did I set one adrift into the night. 
If the line is cut would that be right?  
Kneeling in the freezing mud, I rewound the twine;   
Yet, when my fingers numbed; I cut the line.
Suddenly, not ten feet from my right was a bright streak of light;
It plunged into the mud with a great fright.
Bobbin in hand, I dashed for my car; I didn’t get far;
I slipped in the mud wounding my pride with a scar.   
Safely in the warmth my car, I rested; slowly I closed my eyes,
I then realized that my life was the prize.
Form: Narrative

Crazy Horse

CRAZY  HORSE

My crazy cat's called Crazy Horse;
abandoned at birth, she's a bit different
like calls to like its said.
No mummy to teach catty behaviour,
tiny blue eyes barely open
desperate to live, on discarded cat kibble.

Brought home, snuggled to warm,
under my chin -
suddenly – eyes still shut, smelt our blue vein
in bed snacks, special treat!
Fierce fluffed one competed easily
quickly got the lion's share
we were too bemused to argue.

Tiny tum replete – napping all.
Then wah, what where?  Jerked awake
tiny pogo stick legs
boinged all night long!
On our duvet covered chests
seems blue cheese an instant fix
for dearth of mother's milk!

And hasn't stopped galloping since.
Her favourite game is chasey
which keeps me warm!
Has taken 10 years to finally
jump to my knee.
Takes much talking, trying both sides
patting my legs til makes the final lap.

Still wild instincts want to flee
doesn't stop her nagging me loudly
butting in with her conversation
when I'm on the phone.
(especially to the bank)
who puzzle over my giggles
during our numerical discussion.

Her second name 'Talks to Flies'
though not a healer, has the 2nd 
language of cats
though it's usually employed
in talking to birds!

So as I've said slightly wrong
in the head.
As a youngster puzzled me greatly
beans I'd picked would disappear
to be found much later - 
under furniture desiccated.

Caught her one day – stalking prey
intent – crouched, waiting
on a freshly picked bean to pounce!
Oh dear!  Still no worries
for the native bird flock!

On arrival home, she hurtles thru cat door;
galloping and skidding mats about
So happy to see me
my doggy like Crazy Horse!

That Mountain

A belt of blue cheese at the feet
Makes the mountain beyond Bachuma gate
Glow in that mysterious hues that all distant 
Mountains carry upon their crooked humps

A wall behind which the Mombasa sun sheepishly hides
Until the herders of the low lands suffocate it with dust  
From a thousand pairs of hooves, then it rises up the mountain 
That splits a people into two Counties, a farmer and a nomad
 
The watchtower of our fore fathers  
Against animal and fellow man
That mountain saved lives 
And became a shrine 
For the exaltation of HE who curved it
From raw matter, embellished with caves
That invites humanity from E and W to drop jaws 
 
A fair day will beckon from this mountain
With orange smile of a sun eager to ascend into sky  
A dreary one will keep you waiting, encumbered 
By a shroud of fog, that smoky mesh that covered 
Burnt sacrifices in the golden days, yet a day 
Of profound beauty, as colourful as a people tending a field of crops
Watered by the mountain spring, will emerge

The mountain of peace, for the elders swear by it
While mending feuds, Will remain forever
Its work among the creatures of earth undone
 Interminable strife betw’n man and beast
Getting louder by day in the corridors of Tsavo Park 
May the stony humps echo the survival anthem 
Before the giggle and belch of hyenas drown it

Herders of low lands, for a century, scrutinize the mountain’s shadow
To stay off hoof breaking haste driving their speckled animals to rest

That mountain will be standing there tomorrow
Waiting for the sun and rain
It will hear man sobbing
It will listen to birds singing
The hyena will growl 
It will not hear

Premium Member The Joy of Food

I should eat healthy, I really should!  But life is too short for that.  Food, food, food, 

it chases away the blues, it brings comfort to the soul.  So here is a list of the foods

that I   L.O.V.E.  and that make me happy. You will note a theme of cheese and

dripping butter (and chocolate) . . . 


a chocolate bar, anytime
bananas, green, not ripe
crackers and cheese, as a snack
drenched in blue cheese, salads and homemade croutons
even, tortilla chips and chunky salsa
French fries from a chip wagon (on my way home from the gym)
grandma's recipe for beef stew with loads of vegetables and a rich gravy
hamburgers and hotdogs off the barbeque with all the fixings
ice-cream, chocolate of course
just out of the oven, french bread
keep the donuts and coffee coming
loads of meatballs, made from mom's recipe (in a sweet tangy sauce)
macaroni made with three kinds of cheese
nothing better, than spaghetti with meat sauce and parmesan cheese
onion soup, french canadian style, dripping with cheese
pizza, deluxe (peanut butter on toast before bed)
quick take out of chicken wings with hot sauce
really, really old cheddar cheese
steaming cobs of corn, dripping with butter and salt
tomato, bacon, and lettuce sandwich
until I say stop, chocolate
vegetables fresh for a farmers market
what is wrong with me, this is all so unhealthy
x-tra, of everything, please
yogurt with strawberries on the bottom
zesty dill pickles, aged one year

______________________________
June 24, 2016

Poetry/List/The Joy Of Food
Copyright Protected, ID 16-804-040-0
All Rights Reserved.  Written under Pseudonym.
Form: List

Blue By You

BLUE BY YOU

What’s Blue by me?  

Butterfly wings, 
the Blue Moth in flight,
stilettos, suede shoes, 
for dancing at night.
Moonbows and rainbows, 
in the spectrum of blue,
the eyes of your love, 
when he’s laughing at you!  
Purple Lupine, Periwinkle,
and Violets can’t be!
Forget-me-nots, Bluebells, 
are true bluer to me.  
Oceans, rivers, 
blue lagoons in the day,
on a raft or a sailboat, 
to blue Half Moon Bay.
Lapis, sapphires,
oyster shells from Cape Cod, 
Bettas and Dolphins,  
are deep blue in a pod.
Blue Willow, blue Fenton, 
Blue Delft on their stems,
Cobalt blue glasses, 
for wine with your friends.
You’re singing the Blues, 
when your down in the mouth,
your blue in a mood,  
if your spirits go south.
Blueberry muffins, 
blue cheese, and blue crab,
and blueberry buckle,  
that’ll run up your tab.
A Blue Footed Booby,
who’s feet look too cold,
a Bluebird, and Bluejay, 
whose terribly bold.
Something blue for a wedding,
sing alone with this moon,
“working blue” in a gig,
when a blue moon’s not soon!
Blue bloods are said, 
to be noble within,
but the silver in spoons
made them blue in their skin.
Blue dragons and Smurfs
and a painted Blue Boy,
stuffed hippos, and Eeyores,
are gifts of great joy.
We can’t forget, 
those blue denim jeans,
we lay down, to zip up, 
unless we are lean.
Baby and Navy, 
and Cornflower blue,
Steel and Teal, 
they’re vivid too.
Royal with Azure,
they share a bright blue,
Sky and Powder,
are softer in hue,
Electric and Space,
or a Midnight milieu, 
these are my colors,
now what’s blue by you.

-Edlynn Nau
©April 12, 2019
© Edlynn Nau  Create an image from this poem.
Form: List

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