Long Butchering Poems
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Day in, and day out, from the ripe old age of five
I’ve take to sharp objects and whittled at their sides.
Plotting the precise angle with penetrating gaze,
the slant of slice, just so nice, as memory replays.
With curt tongue and tireless ire, I shred the sages
Burroughs, and Asimov, the Shakespeare past ages.
Butchering with rare delight, the language on the page
lancing every metaphor and simile upstaged.
and so I've arrived her in rhythm and in rhyme
killing the English language as other people dine.
*Nibbs are the pointed ends of fountain pens
as well as being an important or self-important person
Lately a person begins to read between the lines
how a network of human beings devalue another's worth
battered and bruised internally exhausted at times
they make you invisible shying away from the truth
To hurt someone that only wishes to speak and correct wrong
a violent nature lacks any respect to honour Justice correctly
certain groups have become hostile to straight talkers even violent
Charity cases crying over sin and vices to be accepted as normal
to carve the hammer into words etched on stone cold laid facts face
The bully is enslaved by their desire to overturn God
burning hate pretends to be polite sticking the dagger in
lacking innocence it poisons the purity in defence
You can be a murderer butchering defenceless beings
but you can't be seen to pray without being insulted
I am an angry man
I considered butchering my mother
So that the government could offer me
Other accommodations away from her
Just because she asked me to clean
A pot in her house
She is so gracious
My mom
She accommodates me
But I blew up shaking with rage
Eyes bulging teeth bearing
Voice raised saying all kinds of nonsense
Earlier in the day I was angry again
At my girlfriend for nothing
I said some hurtful things
I must be a horrible human being
Thankfully she chose to never talk to me
But my mother my dear mother
What choice has she got from me
I even got angry at my dog
When she was trying to sit close to me
I yelled at her even though
She truly leans on me
Maybe I am all the evil yet to be
What happens when anger burns
All the love left for me in this world
What will I do with the memories
And the Ashes of what I had
The love I could not understand
What happens to me when I die
Alone starved and alone in the dark
Will there be anyone to place a rose
Or sing a dirge on my final verse
I need to stop being angry
Or I will not be there
To kiss my mother goodbye
Because of all the shame
I carry inside me
oft times brutal not so short,
but nasty acknowledgement,
(this anonymous, conscientious, efficacious...
frivolous gent writhes at bloody history),
yet mindful premeditated how to be worthy,
and now feels forced to be acquiescent
(as well other citizens might) calling
(er...actually writing), an August
aegis body vowing to be adherent
to codas, doctrine, ethos...adjacent
with government sanctioned destruction,
and indefinite adjournment
of peaceful coexistence with native peoples,
who never accepted unfair (raw deal) adjustment
(most often forced with violence) preceded,
and/or followed by admonishment
of aggressive, corrosive, deceptive...
indiscriminate butchering and adolescent
women and children,
an irrevocable Janus-faced advancement
fate awaiting all aboriginal tribes
fueled by advertisement frequently with bounty
fast forward to present age of affluent
price tag to lobby and or represent
deliberate gerrymandered voting districts,
where trumped up agent orange
iz new black aggrandizement
finds Donny Brooks saturing the media
with proclamation defamation of this very day
stigmatizing valuable news as so subtly "FAKE"!
I love the koalas, and hate what the forest fires have done to them.
Adoring seals is easy, but the butchering of them makes me feel dim.
Seems to be a yin to every yang, have you noticed that my friend?
When will this love hate relationship come to an end?
The ocean is lovely in so many ways, and I appreciate the view.
Until a sea monster comes up and swallows my boat, and me too.
The day is beautiful a few hours before a horrible storm, but then.
The sky gets dark, and the air gets loud, blustery and incredibly thin.
There seems to be a love and a hate in almost everything we do.
I love to teach, but tackling the vast paperwork is long overdue.
It irritates me and scrapes my brain cells over in a terrifying way.
I procrastinate doing it until ten o’clock at night, every Sunday.
I love my cousin, but she is vocal, verbal, nasty and mean voter of one.
About her political candidate. A ruffian who is as corrupt as they come.
Like joy of her company, if she stays away from politics, she is a delight.
She seems determined to bring up this idiot, and it simply is not right!
Contest: Let’s Minichu on Love or Hate Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mohan Chutani
Written 2/28/2021
From the north silently it comes down the river,
invisible, radioactive, combining with *acid rain.
Nuclear power, cheap energy, a cancer giver
and all we love will end, if we don't chose to refrain.
So fueled by greed, we chew up the earth for coal to burn,
blackening the skies and butchering the mountain side,
all so that we can drive SUV's with total unconcern,
laughing at the third world, on the globe, we stand astride.
The black-outs, *brown-outs, oh the anarchy of light's blight
creating a sickly yellow miasma's where few stars shine.
And cities of cave dwellers who never see the night,
turn shades of puce and pink by neon lights malign.
Soon, I'm sure, we'll redefine the nature of what's pure,
and Seri's *app will tell what game to eat ...and the cure.
Richard clerihewed me yesterday
Why the nerve, I should have got him first I say
Then I laugh still wondering if clerihewed is a word
Realizing that many conventions in our language are up surd
The Clown of Clerihews, what a moniker Moe would say
I could probably write a lot of these everyday
The ballade though, not a form for a dummy
If I can convince ForDummies publishing, surely I'll make money
I'm butchering the king's English Curly would say
As a child I'd watch three stooges reruns everyday
Yes at that time Curly was my favorite of the three
A poem with nyuk, nyuk nyuk, is a sight to see
I'm not sure what Larry would add
Being the only of the original four from a different dad
A musician yes, a great violinist they say
Healy said he pay him $90 a week and extra $10 to throw that fiddle away
What about Shemp can't forget the other brother
Yes Shemp, Moe, and Curly had the same mother
In the latter years I've grown to like him as well
He was actually one of the original two, or so they tell
Joe Besser, hah, definitely the lame duck
Being Jewish, I'm sure the other three would call him a smuck
Some of his appearances I have to tolerate
I'm a fan of the other two with him, so I can't hate
One more for Stinky Davis, as he was called on Albert and Costello
A role he played, definitely not the role of a hero
They all said he wouldn't take a pie in the face
Did he not know the other 40 years of stooges history, what a disgrace
I purposely left Joe DeRita or Curly Joe
He had two stints with The Stooges I know
Was the one short film Snow White and
I have him below Joe Besser, that can't be grand
I guess ThePhilosopher, now lower shouldn't judge
In the 50's he didn't even live a nudge
I was born quiet a while later
Ok I admit it, of Joe I'm a hater
Even having fun in my hate of Joe Besser lol. He had a very extensive acting career, and there was a reason he was allowed to be there without taking pies in the face. He was actually acting out his own character that he developed over his comedy career, so that's kind of impressive. After posting had to add in Joe DeRita, or Curly Joe, lest you thought I forgot his important roles lol
Upon this Pennine peak
in stretch of wilderness,
where ground is silver grey
of moorland millstone grit,
a glistening piece stands out.
I take close look and see
small flake of shiny brown.
Curious, I pick it up.
This stone is not from here
and shows the hand of man.
A thumb size crafted piece;
one edge neatly saw-toothed.
It is my first flint find.
A hunter's blade I hold.
It is a hide scraper
from ancient butchering.
Once used by Stone Age man.
I felt it in my hand.
A peculiar feeling.
Now something primal stirs
deep in my spirit core.
I feel strange connection
with folk of ancient world.
Absurd is the business of disappointment with meaning
crawling to our knees in defeat
and panacea for healing that lasts
a full moment, before vanishing forever.
Absurd is the claim of victory over a raging battle
when one is in self-retreat and the enemy runs
rampant in the streets.
Absurd is the virus's real vocation
butchering us like flies and
then taking a breather before
resuming its onslaught.
Absurd is the cruelty of faith
in post-virus that carries hope
to self-destruction.
Absurd is the mercurial moment
of suspense between now and future
laden in ambiguity.
Absurd is the true essence
beating in the heart of darkness
enveloping the horizon.
Absurd is the light of
enlightenment promising
relief.
Absurd is the nature of
humanity yearning for
what it fears most.
skirted, wind blown from afar
I was not to be late for the affair
bells struck midnight
and there were two left in in the square
twelve strokes to signal we were there
we circled right
looking for a place to disappear
tongues tendered to the herd
we kissed
my bones bent to your will
it was late
stars begged us to stay
the moon in her blushed
less than casual rose state
checking out as clouds ruffled by
we were high
and you, smokin'
like you always do
the time, the place, the memory
the face
fingers dancing as we knew the end
much more than the beginning
heartbeats pausing
pleasing, my ears
romance, encapsuled
in the singing
desire, a choir of one
and we won
thirty beats, pulsating
blood in-between the bludgeoning
a sense of belonging
longing for days to never come
nights slashing through the dark
butchering arms
grasping
charred, bodies
steam
whistling as she walks away