Long Bone marrow Poems
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Countless instances submitting poems
finds me racking
quite a hefty collection of rejections,
the responses lacking
disappointing voluminous vicious
venomous vitriolic backing
quite the contrary,
the prefabricated responses
unsuccessful at hijacking
my "FAKE" toothy gumption
(since I wear dentures) lip smacking
bite size packing
not exceptionally appetizing,
but definitely wanting
with more pungent acidity stinging
(albeit figuratively) painfully digging
into the essence of all bone marrow,
asper this humble,
who will brazenly continue entering
competitions until scathing
character ridiculed of course including
unsolicited yet denigrating
words clearly, definitively,
and flagrantly insinuating
this prolific entity among
basket of deplorables wasting
his precious energy and time crafting
ambiguous, horrendous, and
nebulous word mangling
poetic endeavors attempting
to garner plaudits generating
infamous, notorious, and
sanctimonious renown diluting
the medium, which
August pantheon replete
with posthumous scriveners
reputations eternally outshining
any facile, infantile,
and juvenile laboring
in my unbiased opinion
far more deserving
of a simple bland communique
devoid of any ripsnorting
flagitious, malicious, and
unscrupulous character assassinating
(mine), which continuously insipid sending
(to yours truly) said
tactfully gentle turning
down efforts requiring
nose to the grindstone painstaking
efforts, which witness shuttering
myself within this
mancave, barely surviving
on thin gruel necessitating
copious blood, sweat, and tears with
nary even a shopworn reprehensible glint
bombarding, condemning, and defaming,
hence such determination bedeviling diligence
to espy acceptably blistering
excoriating, and insulting
nauseating mean opprobrium
meted out to me
until such outpouring
of vindictiveness acquired,
I will continue logic bending writing.
Wherefore art thou to find (even trumped) critique?
I have a proclivity to be lengthy,
But in this case, I will do it succinctly.
This is the saga of an infertile bunny named In Grating
Who was run out of a meadow for not procreating.
He had the temerity to act like he did not care,
Which made him pretty bold for a quite-so young hare.
If you do not realize how serious was this,
I can assure you, certify, and attest.
That this poor unfortunate, with no real rest,
This young man bunny with this little defect
Was not brought back or given any respect
Until his well-loved cousin, a fellow named Barrow
Needed a transplant of the barren Bunny’s bone marrow.
They brought him back in, rescuing him from a tent in the ghetto.
They stroked him, and petted and gave him the keys to the meadow.
The best part of this saga, the part that makes your heart sing.
Is that he met a bunny nurse name of Widow Irene.
He noticed her right away, through a tiny aperture in the door,
She was beautifully built, gorgeous, and more.
I have to tell you, he soon picked up on her nuance and glance,
That she was ready to take him home, and give him a nice private dance.
Irene already had sixteen bunnies, and a pile of money.
So the Infertile bunny, became her delighted lifelong honey.
Written 10-26-2018 8 Word Challenge – 9 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Words: proclivity, attest, saga, aperture, temerity, barren, nuance, marrow
As though someone has thrown away a dark net
and the town has become a trout in the net;
as though no morning has ever approached here,
the town has submerged in overflowing darkness.
The town is, as it were, the island of a fairy tale.
I wonder who are, like the giants, snatching away
the tip on the forehead of a teen girl,
then devour the bone-marrow in rapture.
I wonder who finally by tearing up the civilization
are eating up its bones and flesh.
Didn't ever a single pir* or saint come
in this darkness here?
If so, you, the poet, take up the charge
and play the guitar of light in the darkness.
* a Muslim religious leader
Shadows remind of you
These grey black deep shallow hues
Beneath the eaves beside the big trees
They almost silently whisper
As I want to kiss her
She disappears
As we come and go here and there
Red or green or blue or grey or a combination
Shadows always roam with us everywhere every time
Sometimes latent some other time
Eloquently reminding
‘We were’
We shudder
Some men and women all on a sudden
Turn shadowy, tall short huge slender shadows
Time robs them of their existence
Just the shadows wander
Man makes friend with man
Shadow-person makes friends with shadow-person
By the side of your smiling face
Beside your crimson and golden fireplace
The shadows appear and sadden our thoughts
Apples turn pale damp and rot
In our lonely reverie
Assembly of dark spots
We cannot do without
Our dear shadows
Today or tomorrow
Residuals of our bone marrow
Look there at the two fondling larks
Do they know
One may be shadow tomorrow
Fondling is life
Shadow, a knife
_______________________________________
15/11/2016
Spring semester has started.
We’re all immersed in the ritual of change
and totally committed to that descent into madness
to the relentless drabness, the flatness, the blandness
for the hours, days and weeks of study
and a bone-deep fatigue that’s actually funny
We’ll live at the edge of intensity
near the the corner of drudging
and gather around the printer
at the media center
like a secular rite of passage
I think I need a daily grind—to keep my mind busy.
What’s wrong with me, that when I’m on vacation, I miss it?
What if work/study is one of my bone-marrow-deep love languages?
.
.
Songs for this:
Happy Dreamer by Laid Back
Easier Said Than Done by Thee Sacred Souls
(You're Better) Than Ever by illuminati hotties
Climax by Adejola Joseph
Climax
You are my definition of sagacity
African beauty you are a diamond
I love you to the bone marrow
So, take me to climax
One kiss then I freeze
Cloud nine baby
Higher deeper down the tunnel of ecstasy
You are my ecstacy
So, take me to climax
What can I do without you?
How can I shine without your light?
Your skin colour is like the firmness of a ripened apple
Take me to climax
I wanna smooch you till I lose my breath
So, take me to climax
I love Africa
I love black beauty
I love sincerity and genuineness
So, take me to climax
Take me to climax
Let me come inside of you
And produce a seed of destiny
You are my definition of sagacity
So, take me to climax
I love you now
I love you forever
So, take me to climax
Days pass by, roses wear away
But as our earth moves around
In another voice it'll have its say
What has left must come around
Babies looking for tomorrow
Patients will buy bone marrow
A dent in the poverty sorrow
At Mars they will love to row
Our children and grandchildren
Will be discoverers and leaders
Future guitar for soul they'll listen
For their poetry novel meters
Smells of your love we don't have now
Tomorrow it'll be a collapsing cascade
Adventurous address in your eyebrows
Tomorrow another pink in your shade
__________________________________________
31 October, 2019
I sense Tomorrow is the Future
Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Sheri Fresonke Harper
Cover this stained façade with my tears
Streaking in rust down this immortal skin
I see the ravens fire rise rocket into the dark sky
Thunder resounds at its dark core
Rusted as feudal lords hide
Hot as the rusted iron worms bore
Winged machines of iron and glass
Thoughts seep into the sleep of gods
Winged shadows perform sacred rites
Bullet the frosty wind of desolation‘s boulevard
Greedy for the seeds of a bitter dry hell
Infernal white, brimstone burn
Bone marrow n stone
This eternal sorrow, of this immortal soul
Deep at the break of dawn
Taste the ashen flesh of sinner and savors
A song of a Golden Heaven resounds, high
This immaculate sky by creation flies, nigh
Tingling of touch, searing of thought,
Blazing in brilliant sight, born deep in sleep
I am wings spread in rudy hue
I feel shadows covering this strange façade
Cling fast from the fading Light
The dying of the Day
The dying of the Last,
Dawn covers forevermore
The currents of an idle mind, void
The moments of judgment to come
The nuclear fire lights
A city full of desire, destroyed
Cry for the troubled waters of creation
The essence of life, wars die hard
In the mouth of the lambs
The lambs to the slaughter
The slaughter of innocence
Spill the tears of an immortal soul
The seeds of an immaculate ejaculate
Cry for the hated deeds done
By some unknown
Known by none, see how they run
The run of rusted tears down a ruined trails
Feel the rotting of these iron hells
See the fading grand empire
Of broken glass
Twisted crosses
Iron wings cover this machine made flesh
A fragile fractal facade
A face so delicately sable
Intricate fingers flex, contract, interweaving
Made of fire, traceing the light of dawn
Made of strings, springs
Some dark strange things
Somethings sit here at the door
Where my shadows dare
Somewhere someone has flown
Under a cold moon running from the sun
Grim passing in the world outside
Iron wings cover me forevermore as pyers, rises
A man’s honor, n pride dies
In these minions of chaos
On the legions of Eternal Watch
Fly these iron wings spread
Their glory, rise flying high
Into a red ragged raging, sky
Into the demise of the glorious
Rays breaking from Valhalla’s Holocaust
Numerically, lyrically --- woven and spun
Living the life we were destined to become
Reminiscing about the times that once were
And now 10 years goes by --- it's a wondrous blur
Whether there's feelings still there after all these years
Whether there's still love behind 10 years of tears
Wondering whether the significant others that we devoted once to
If maybe I should of devoted myself to you
The questions that are asked --- the memories left to un - speak
The chilling and frightening from deep with inside my bone marrow becomes weak
The blur of the years and the fish in the sea
When once you meant so deeply much to me
How do we react when now there's families we've created?
And how come neither of us waited?
Why all the pain and the answers to questions you seek
Maybe we'll figure some things out when we see each other this week
Maybe the answers un - told live right under our heads
And the monsters we thought for so long --- really DO live under our beds
The friendship now might create a whole new apocalypse --- it's true
But not being together is as simple as "why is the sky blue?"
Maybe down the path we'll meet hand in hand once again
And maybe we're meant to be a lost figure in our once - committed sin
The lives we left and the people we'll soon leave
Could we ever work? What do you believe?
Is it worth the battle and is it worth the fight?
To hold me beside you for eternity every night?
The war we'll upraise and the pain we'll endure
Could gradually mend our hearts together again --- for sure
The weeks, months, or years it will take for us to break
Will be as quick as it once was --- as soon as we awake...
I am fascinated by the worst of the worst of the worst
Watching shows like Criminal Minds
Forensic Files
Stuff that keeps me awake all night
Re-living the horror I felt while I was
Sitting in front of the TV
watching a murder or apocalypse
Too fearful to watch a scary movie, yet watching
Pompeii being covered by bus-loads of lava,
Screaming and dying,
Watching gladiators being torn apart by lions,
Sitting in utter horror, knowing I will be up and down all night
Too terrified to sleep more than two hours at a time,
Waiting for the knife to plunge and the
End to come
Fascinated at the idea of being
Buried alive,
Scared to my bone marrow
And for what reason?
No clear idea,
Certainly
No sense
In doing this to
Myself, and yet
Here I am,
Waiting in terror
For the
Unknown
Them
To
Come
And
End
Me