Long Busts Poems
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Yeah, I think it's a pity I dumped her in the wilderness
Strange things often happen in life, you know
Time and again we met together, talked of common interest
Raised the same slogans (you guessed right,
both of us belonged to the same political outfit)
Until she felt that she had developed a soft corner in her heart for me
At least she suggested something like that
Wasn't it the right time for me to grab the opportunity? Should I
Have looked like a hopeless fool?
Accordingly i made the first move
And the next few months glided by like a quick scroll on the laptop
Together we spent times at riverbanks, at lush restaurants
Leaning against each other's shoulders, watching sunset
Hands touching hands, feet scrubbing feet beneath tables...
She talked of apartments, of good jobs, secured future
Me casting surreptitious glance at passing belles,
Their fuller or underdeveloped busts
She expressed genuine concern whenever I looked glum
I never cared to ask why her visage looked tired
Somehow it didn't click, I don't know why
Perhaps she felt 'too sure', complacent to possess
Life's new treasure
So when on that humid night
After we shared the bachelor bed in her apartment
Leaving her asleep under the silent glare of the ceiling
I came out, and
Dumped my cellphone disdainfully in the first trash-bin.
Vincent Willhelm van Gogh
a difficult talent to truly know
unwise love choices-Eugenie Kee&Sien
made him stick to brush not pen
Finance support from brother Theo
loosed his giftings to flow
in dark landscapes&still life
too bad, without a wife
From Ecole de Beau Arts a matric
In Antwerp he creates his pics
Then to Paris to mix with the best
lived an artist life with great zest
Upon the death of Pa Theodorus
Vincent does portraits&busts
as his love life to Margot ails
so also his pointillism fails
He then met Agostina Segatori
& a brief affair the world did see
An interest in all things Japanaise
then to Arles were the sun does blaze
The artists colony was not a success
Vincent cut off an -ear-but I digress
progressively VG became deluded
'a mad redhead,'the locals said
Genius & delusion marries as one
but a recognisable usp is done
with broad brush& wavy line
a reputation to outlast his time
In Arles he is hospitalised
&unique art realised-
then with a gun suicides
on canvas though his genius resides
There’s a global inflation problem
everywhere lungs are puffed up
heads are swollen.
Balloons increase in volume overnight.
The cost of rubber bands
has been stretched to its limits.
We recall sadly the heady days of deflation,
when shrinkage gave us more space
to spread, to drink our fill
of a less bloated air.
Politicians and pronouns
are loudly popping
empty suits and Stetson hats
billow and blow more than we can
know.
We see the mushrooming clouds
of bluster and bluff from afar.
The world pumps on way too hard
continents expand beyond their land.
The sky busts out of its high wide window.
Soon we shall see
how it will be before the big bang
as we escalate into fat flatulent globs
and awfully slow, bulky, bouncing blimps.
expecta O' Greta great dep·re·depta
snitchie fumes crud
Senate weaselin' words
mosaic-speak fungals thrall-truth up your nostrils
unmasked civil·a·tons
square crotch per smile
poeta decepta leaks India unda bear
panda wear
fund a hole: Pandora Pumps!
child wonda nuf crumbles Vatican busts
spangled in clown clothes
bustled to dust
depravity's cavities coupes enchiladas
inflicting inflections on cartoon erections
so verge on my bliss-vittles "goose tinge" me plights
please translate dos colander's humanoid blights
thy nuclear nickel-sickle pickles delight
or do like Shrub junior said- just
go £ucking shop.
___________________
Notes:
1. Two declarations America might consider.
i. Declare Washington D.C. a separate country and...
ii. Declare war on it.
Argh, I Ne'er Got Got Bran Did With...
A Muffin Top Before - Why Now!?
Impossible firm he (reed myth self)
to compete with Adonis, no way no chance
asthma gut busts over
waistband of sweatpants,
the choice couture,
asper this poet, who kant's
cease spewing regularly
(quotidian) raves and rants
years ago (another lifetime),
I partook of contra dance
sing, (and most casual suitable
place to find romance)
plus burn calories matter of fact,
a milieu to buff and enhance
physique, while simultaneously
kibitizing with great expanse
of pleasant gals and guys
one must not be afraid to prance
(albeit in accordance
with a caller on stage,
and maintain endurance)
synonymous with aerobic exercise,
and also act flirtatiously amorously glance
sing and/or stealing a French fried
kiss, yup dashing all
the way out to France,
yet returning just in time and proper,
or improper instance
all the while sustaining
the energetic activity over expanse
of a few hours (traditionally
held on Thursday evenings)
and for that block of time held in a trance,
asper...analogous to
spellbinding arrow or lance
suspended part way thru flight,
cuz all troubles troubles
temporarily melt away
which venue mentioned,
which small number of bucks one did pay
to participate among mine weekly highpoint,
where life liberty, and pursuit of happiness
which place this then akin to a cray
zee lee whirling dervish, did pine
to spruced himself up, and ready to hay
for four, thus sped without delay
this bag of lovely bones hapt tubby
more more trim, unlike
less physically fit body of today,
and scant finances find me find
foregoing joyfully
listening to musicians play
and healthily exhausted
with closing waltz,
thence out tummy car
yours truly did sashay!
My nomadic guy, please don’t tear my flesh
This lonely chamber isn’t made for one
Come play the lead strings as our grooves refresh,
Oh no funky stardust when you are gone…
Sad moon for me and blazing sun for you;
Life’s a-tumble when the door creaks, “Adieu.”
I got no rhythm in these eyes bloodshot
Just recall most nights’ pure angelic love,
And once you’re back run to me, on the dot
While this babe waits, frantic as evening dove…
Sorely missing your pitter- patter feet,
While hours grow crazy , dear boo, I’m offbeat!
My timeline busts, when you’re so hard to get
Still, I wait down the road numb with longing;
For some reason this wired-up head won’t regret
How I trace the lampposts until grasses sting …
Oh nomadic guy…miles and miles away
I await your rocking arms to dance , to stay!
..........................
9/14/2016
Rock 'n Roll Rhyme FestContest for Phillip Garcia
.........................
Rhyme Scheme: Quatrains with End Couplets
Inspired by the song of U2: Stay ( Far Away, So Close)
Album: Zooropa
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V7da48kn4sE
--------------
*Personally , the essence of this song depicts
a need to create a long-term relationship especially
when one is elusive, fleeting like an angel or a nomad
with lines ‘ just a bang and a clatter”, ‘stay,
and the night would be enough.’ Then again,
Bono of U2 is one great riddle!
Reality check let’s look around us
conspiracy theories mean feet ain’t grounded
heads in clouds like white powder buzz
black man screams white power just because
not what is but cliche what was
Media feeding but when broke down ridiculous
mankind allows belief in magical hat tricks
thinking freedom restricted attractive
commit to ideas only restricts oneself
mental control on thinking paths for elfs
religious political views grouping themselves
blinding to all else open minds stuck to shelves
Vice and lust guns drugs busts
Man’s a muppet blind and mugged
belief of secrecy swept under the rug
but respect their privacy we must
two ways shared complain cus one aint theirs
playing their minds corrupts them scares
Political enemies allies or friends
slaves to the systems straights and bends
streets lined up with shady men
play til deaths cycle rolls to the naive next gen
they call it suffer but paradise blends
subjective perspective made enemies
opinions disrespected paranoia breeds
call it the jungle but wouldn’t live in the jungle
work 5 days 2 weekends
rest and socialise purchase items
only species this applies
living inside just enough to get by
side by side we borrow we buy
man we ain’t victims when there ain’t a medical absence
law and justice helps our actions
abandon this stuff the way of victims acting dumb
historically war lose you life
injustice found when there is no rights
the top level wealthy increasingly greedy
still the bottom level get gifted basic needing
so comfortable their overbreeding
more they need put hands out
but if not filled instant grieving
we live in a society we don’t take responsibility for
thinking us it’s responsible for wanting more
complaints of freebies proof mans a fool
they ask they take they give bugger all
Being strong takes effort, being weak is easy
to fall for certain wishes that excite senses,
and a growing boy has many temptations
not related to a sweet cinnamon apple pie!
Oh, sweet girl with the loveliest voice
live without worries, run past meadows
where lively thoughts speed up footsteps;
living without fantasy is a hard choice!
Boys your age don't really have any dream,
they play the sport that suits their taste;
they have seen people's faces that gleam
from a delusion or dream that went to waste!
Oh, sweet girl with the loveliest voice...
chase after sunsets to find that eternal joy;
we both have dreamed but very differently:
I'll write your story in beautiful prose!
Sit down, I'll unlock the magical key to success,
considering I've failed, toy would look down on me;
It's in failures that we learn to get better and disagree:
you can avoid those unnecessary risks, never play chess!
Oh, sweet girl with the loveliest voice,
don't imitate me, life has been a total struggle;
nobody held me in my loneliness, this bruise
never heals, neve busts into a bubble!
I waste no breath on silly matters, I tell it straight,
pay attention in every detail, wisdom you must use:
let no regret make you bitter, listen with attentive heart:
after you have lived and wasted all: what else did you lose?
Some soldiers receive medals for their bravery in war,
Or praise for their services on ships, air, or shore.
Men and women fight for world peace,
Continuous battles that never cease.
Make love, not war is an adage,
Where is the love? when wars are savage.
Wars cause death and destruction to all.
United, we stand, divided we fall.
There are no medals or words of praise,
Or sculpture busts or honour flags were raised,
For the victims of war, who through no fault of their own,
Have lost their homes, livelihoods and families,
And struggle alone.
Alone in a world that is alien to them
A world where you lose trust in your fellowmen.
Doubt creeps in, and the truth seems to hide,
But with their strong faith that comes from inside,
These courageous, faithful, stoic folk,
Even when they are down and broke
Soldier on and endure it all,
Until they hear a ceasefire call.
Unsung heroes everyone
Who, without cover and nowhere to run,
Lived in fear every day
Praying their enemies had gone away.
The world should give a rousing cheer,
A cheer that men and creatures hear
No medals made of solid gold,
Or regimental marches to behold
Was expected from these human beings
Who are the salt of the earth
Their fight for survival
It showed their strength of character and worth.
The survivors of these war heroes
It will not be recognised.
They had to suffer in silence,
As there were so many watchful eyes,
They would not want medals,
Medals would not be right
The world could raise a glass to them
That would bring pleasure and delight
A glass full of praise and friendship, too
A symbol of unity, a vow to stay true
To each other as much as we humanly can,
It should be the purpose of every man.
That Andrea’s a devil.
Would you ever guess
a pointed tail lies well-hid
underneath her dress?
And don’t you know it’s with red
that she paints her hair?
(Camouflage for two horns
covered up in there.)
While good folks are dreaming of
mansions. . . .she is not.
She’s just basking in the sun
where it’s nice and hot.
Thinking she’s some unicorn
sipping at a brook.
Instead, she’s in her bed with. . .
a grisly horror book.
And her fascination with
numerology;
Now doesn’t that sound “fishy?”
Or is it just me?
Acting like a little imp
almost every day,
she becomes annoyed if life
is more work than play.
Whining on the internet
of her small bad luck
while her hubby busts his butt
driving semi-truck.
Yes, Andrea’s a devil
And I ought to know
‘cause she made me write this poem
just to tell you so!
*inspired by my desire to do a parody
on Linda Marie's poem she wrote for me,
"Andrea's an Angel." (this one is much
closer to the real me!)