Long Chronic Poems
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THE DAILY PARSER Vol. 1, No. 26 — Late Edition — Price: One Silent Letter
ENGLISH CHARGED WITH CONTRADICTION, CENTURIES OF SILENCE
Detective Baffled as Language Refuses to Explain Itself; Shrimp Also Involved
By Our Grammar Correspondent
A thousand-year investigation into the English language reached a breaking point last night when officers from the Department of Linguistic Homicide opened a formal inquiry into "chronic, unprovoked contradiction" and "generational silence with no documented cause."
The primary suspect, English, could not be reached for comment. Sources say this is typical.
Among those brought in for questioning:
the letter K, present in the word "knife" for centuries without once making a sound;
a shrimp identifying as both "jumbo" and “shrimp”;
and a duplicate of itself calling itself "Original Copy," which, when asked to clarify, would only say "yes."
IN THIS ISSUE:
— Full interrogation transcript, pg. 2
— Psychologist called in after suspects stonewall detective for six hours, pg. 4
— Detective faces press, admits "no comment" himself, pg. 6
Weather: Deafeningly silent, with a chance of bittersweet showers.
A band donned... Around ring finger of left hand
Yes folks (meaning,
whomever espies these lines) alas and alack
I attest thy spouse located future heirloom -
while tentatively asleep in her bivouac
though far less likely,
(yet near more rewarding)
than finding bullet in gunnysack
and/or locating needle in haystack
constitutes the missus
(thru... worm my going with fluke...?)
She discovered logical whereabouts
concerning whaddya believe
simple 14 carat (ha - just kidding)
no custom made
tooled bejeweled purchased,
but symbol of marriage
originally acquired as prize
within box of crackerjack
and treated as goodluck
which find accompanied with
wife merrily drumming upon me buttucks
an old chestnut nursery rhyme named
knick knack paddy whack.
Emotional moment found
yours truly uttering yippee
while straddled upon rushing limb boughs
verbally punctuated courtesy warranty
said treasured ring kept guarded
by hand sum vigilant trustee
kissing me darling dumpling
as adequate reciprocity
suddenly husband experienced himself
as figurative payee
delivered out his
(mine) emotional melee
courtesy lucky find
more precious than fine spun gold.
Now bonafide marriage signifies
stronger invisible bond,
whereby Western Culture accepts
how wedding band doth correspond
unlikely once philandering quirky poet
will draw attraction, anyway
cuz insinuations he won't respond,
nor at this matrimonial juncture
(approximately two dozen plus years)
will one bard **** troubadour abscond.
How great if woebegone
misfortune could abate
such as obsessive compulsive
mailer daemons that create
psychological distress and chronic depression
whereby suicidal ideations will elevate
impossible mission to oust melancholy
against psyche doth grate,
though chatting (over telephone)
with eldest sister,
who lives within Woodbury, New Jersey
can figuratively illustrate
how solitary existence
encompassing isolated kalifate
only breeds despair within,
emotionally remote bailiwick
therein still stews
emotionally unbridled wordsmith
whose entire being does marinate.
They say money can't buy happiness
, but it sure can patch that hole in the roof.
Or a fat neck ring or your dream dress
Or a tanker of gas -a new set of whitewalls
get you to a vision that you've never been to.
Tell me the truth, are you happy
with that naked old maid's finger or that dated-frayed dress.
They say money can't buy love or happiness
but it can buy a teaspoon of attention
a bit of bling to cover chronic loneliness.
Tell me the truth, are you happy being broke all the time
Debt hovering like a twitchy witchy blade
over a sweaty neck that's not worth a dime.
Money will buy your heat, pills, and A.C
With that being said:
Money can't buy sunshine or time
it may get you an airy oceanfront home
but someday that bipolar wind's going to blow
and money will never weave wings to the soul.
Three decades ago, I was smaller.
My steep wedges made me seem taller!
In gigantic glasses
I taught my six classes,
and I worked hard. I was no staller.
Though mixtures of old and new dances
were challenging, I took my chances
on pulling a muscle
while doing the hustle
at proms. I got many shocked glances!
These people and things are iconic:
The Golden Girls, Reagan, Hask Tonic,*
moonwalk, Dirty Dancing,
the cold war, Romancing
the Stone. Need to GET REAL was chronic.
poem title--song by the Bangles *for hair italics for movie titles
October 16, 2018, entered in Michelle Faulkner's Remembering the
1980's Contest
Introversion, like strengthening integrity,
explores fusing with the Whole
which I associate with ego-death
whether by colonizing encroachments of Other
more powerful,
arrogantly unenlightened,
predators
Or by ego-transmutation
creolization
rebirth
synergetic sacraments
of wedding
bedding
feeding
breeding
loving
win/win compassion
And probably some positive
and negative,
impressive
and repressive,
flavors
and savors
of both varieties
anxiously anticipating ego-degeneration,
Self-emptying
under duress
and surviving chronic depression,
ego critical stress
and chronic trauma events.
Extroversion,
like outflowing exhilaration,
celebrates interdependent individuation
either against
or within
Earth's whole open system
Which I know as ego-augmentation
within a Western straight white male privileged context
of anthro-exceptionalism
MonoTheistically over against EarthTribe's carnal nature
Or
PanenTheistically celebrating ego's EarthMothered
nurtured
holonic spirit
And probably some in and out
positive and negative
Both/And Right hemisphere
and Either/Or Left hemisphere
introverted ego
embracing extroverting ecosystemic interdependence
with indigenous wisdom
of healthy ego
dipolar co-arising
wealthy ecosystemic context
While EitherMe OrWe introversion
without BothMe AndWe
integral holon of EarthTribal view
veers off toward Lose/Lose despair
death
depression
inevitable ecocide
and lack of capacity to thrive,
emergent disinterest in surviving
While extroversion invites sacred out
and inflowing integral Other
into panentheistic win/win play
to grow our humane/divine
interreligious
bicamerally interdependent
Tao wu-wei.
I am pretty certain
What you will find
With a sneaky cheeky peek
Behind the velvet curtain
See..one of a kind
Stand Up hierachy
For very few shekels
Sarky then snarky malarkey
Sworn scorn of merry heckles
But shorn of those hackles
Torn free from those shackles
The dawn of hee-hee cackles
If they're a chronic
Stand Up Comic
No one applauds
Dreads hordes of frauds
Who tread ironic boards
A skit to be a hit
Must pit your wit
Acerbic gambit
Caustic flit
Twit or git
Design a fine punchline
Yep..the funny bit
Scores on the doors
Gaping jaws and guffaws
Means more encores
If they don't shirk
Perk of their work
Can air a quirk
Share & make them smirk
With flair or devil maycare
The crowd revel...go beserk
Seriously sardonic
Scheming bitter of gin
Deliriously laconic
Big beaming grin
Gleaming glitter of tonic
Tears now are streaming
Girth of the mirth
Cheers from their peers
Just the ticket for the critic
What's it worth?
Priceless..to see an iconic
Yet down to earth
Stand Up Comic
On their home turf
Always pick it..
Here I stand, a godless monk
Without account, my soul is sunk.
My name won’t make the Book of Life
’Cause I’ve been such a cruel ex-wife.
I cursed you in a thousand ways
(There’s been no “high” in holidays.)
The one with whom anew you’d start:
I wished she’d crush your faithless heart.
I hoped in Leadville the spill you’d take
Would leave your back with chronic ache.
A gleeful anticipation would start to thrive
While imagining you cut a wire live.
So, here’s my prayer, albeit unholy:
I wish my thoughts were a bit less lowly.
If I can’t be good, at least I hope to find God
So I can achieve a peaceful facade.
Though rage may be slow to subside,
This year I hope to turn the tide.
While never shall I wish you well
Next year, no longer I’ll hope you in hell.
I want conversations
with writers and poets
The wise the wacky
the dark and the stoic
I need to drink your words
I fear my disease is chronic
The name of my affliction
I think it’s wordaholic
Writers and poets
Dig down to the deep
Some are more honest
Others have secrets to keep
Some can herd cats
or people like sheep
If you tell a good story
I’ll sacrifice my sleep
The complicated mind
Within phrases revealed
Multilayered thinking
Special nuggets concealed
Tongues sharp and precise
master poets do wield
If used like a surgeon
The recipient is healed
So talk to me wordsmiths
all of you clever poets
The wise the wacky
The dark and the stoic
I want to drink your words
Yes my disease is chronic
The name of my affliction
I think it’s wordaholic!
Clearly, I thought it was me
That’s what I told me
After years of experience,
That’s all that I could wager
But no one took my bet-
Now I know why
Thought I had the mind
Thought I had the strength
I honestly thought I had it all
Clearly, I thought it was me
I should have seen the truth
Blinded by compensation
Miss-guided by narcissism
Giving thought only to the weakness that clouded me
Anti-depression lead to chronic melancholy
Don’t know how I didn’t see
Then again, I do
I was driven by the rage and envy
Rage from neglect
Envy of friends
So all this time, I’ve fooled only me
I should have seen the truth
Basically, I thought it was me
Clearly, it has never been…
And never will…
Bucolic frolic or supersonic & demonic
Alcoholic demands in the stands vitriolic
Iconic rollick or quite simply HEADonic
England so shambolic at fans’ behest
So chronic plans for a Baz Ball inquest
Ironic still curious why the rest are furious
Spurious contest they know which way’s best
Histrionic tease they jest please don’t be a pest
Scorn who’ve worn the Lions crest on their chest
Suggest fire’s the ire…ferocity of pomposity detest
Tire of dire quagmire but we’re blessed with a zest fest
Everyone complains about the vain inane campaigns
Disdain of the stain of their refrain just won’t restrain
Pain again explain is plain what does pertain to a Test
Ashes conquest no longer a contest our own Everest
We frown they clown around go to town double down
How very dare you review from your pew not impressed
We guessed they quickly confessed only one way remains
We’re profane..they’re insane our hopes down the drains
They insult with this cult as Baz Ball without Brains reigns.