Long Considerably Poems
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They Can have Weapons, Protect themselves, but We cannot..?
With all you know and all you suppose,
It stands to reason then, does it not,
Our innate ability, although predisposed..
To suffering and our tragic lot
To protect one's family against all foes..
They have armies guns and worse,
Humanity now perceives it has lost,
To gain insight listen, reciting verse,
You couldn't actually count the cost
So into oblivion, or to relinquish those,
That enslave you now though still unbeknownst,
The origins of which are -
A considerably dark violent ethos,
For this evil Cabaal a prepared cuisine
No further cooking is required to feed,
Mindless zombies into satanic pot,
No way out if you do not fight back,
Hang on..
They Can have Weapons, Protect themselves, but We cannot..?
So Second Amendment then not withstanding,
All future generations must now depend upon,
Humanity's capacity, to now comprehending,
A well armed Militia under the stars,
Requires..
The simple right to defend what's ours,
Whether they know it now or not,
As in this case then Life itself,
We must now preserve it
But do not take a bow,
Or accept technocratic enslavement by mass
A.I Bot..
Our children our ancestors to honour - or to disavow,
Lament sad willful indulgence or..
Stand up and fight for God's
gift to us,
And in his name.
Consider these words to then discuss,
Compliant inertia only festers blame,
Protect all goodness in essential
Trust
For all of us here and not just me,
Remember..,
Material Spiritual, all or bust..
If they can have weapons then so can We.
Kurt Hubbard-Beale
During covid 19 lockdown
Jan 22 2022
The PoetTree
Awaken Poetry. Awareness Poetry. Geopolitical. Philosophical. Music. Shared
Categorize your life in intervals of seven
And you’re an old man
Before you can make it to eleven
I nod off and nap for a minute or two
Step back into life with a senators view
No peace for me
Only wars in-depth of miserable moments
Misery considerably an outlet if you can palm it
Take your emotions on a coast
Rest next to the ocean, a scenery to calm it
Yet I consume pints of liquor
Offer my flawed advice to couples as they bicker
Lights growing dim, candle wax melts and reforms
But there is no wicker
Imagine spending time apart
The coming back to be with her
Ale she grows
Consuming days without the snow
Who’s to dry her eyes
When love does fail to show
Here in this paradise next to life
A place here on earth
I’ve seen better moments just worst places
Vice versa
Lust, the tumor which consumes most faces
Purity next to innocence remains tasteless
Pull the roast, drop the pie
Watch as mother looks to pace her stress
Usually from nowhere I find myself running
But lately my shoes won’t lace for grace
Winter belongs to warmth
But we reach for may
Passenger seat at times we lay
And where do you go
When days are rumored with thoughts of
“I don’t know”
Focus is to maintain purpose in what you are pursuing
Despite the average mans ruling
In to the skies, clouds, I’m moving
Lost in a mirror of allure
Homesick in search of a cure
Leaves bristle, just a kiss of autumn
A gift given to the seekers whom sought them
This place here on earth
A paradise next to life
Pulling myself out of the 2020 mud
Sluggish and stunned, fatter from sheltering in place
My eyes are shut tightly,
Attitude indiscernible
Light nearly gone from my soul
It has been the worst year of my life
Starting with the January death of my mother
It’s 2021! Someone yells with sheer joy.
I know it’s my husband. He’s the only other human here.
In this mole hole we live in, with dark windows,
Competing TVS blaring.
I shove both I-pads off my lap.
Which is considerably larger this year.
The couch is full of junk from October and November.
I begin to clear the couch. Hiding the stuff in other places.
Amazed that my whole attitude changes after the junk is gone.
It is a new day, I feel refreshed. My energy has returned in a whoosh!
It is 2021! A clean slate. A fresh page! A year to kiss and hug and commute.
I begin to dance as the cloud of 2020 lifts off my chest,
I feel sixty pounds lighter!
In the valley, one has been moaning considerably, extensive
for an amount of time, these constraints have possession of
one's emotions, affairs, and partnerships from all walks of
life, there will be chronicles of ups and downs, profits, and losses.
Ya'll it's been immeasurably a refutable volume of time, it's
becoming apparently, one is emerging, circulating fully of
fervor, hyperventilating, brims over, sobs echoes, screamingly
outcries, one's coming out of these days of low frequencies
treading the valleys.
The sun's warmth is helping my mood considerably.
I had been holed up all day in a dark place, watching sad TV shows, feeling down...
Now I am outside, and it is warm out here. The sun is loving my shoulders, and my face.
Things are looking up. I am starting to feel alive again.
The house is a tomb; the black-out curtains have turned it into a cave.
Two seconds in the sun is helping me to remember how lucky I am to be alive.
Fourteen "Unsolved Mysteries" with Dennis Farina had gripped me in a mood of hopelessness and despair.
I had held myself hostage all day
By a TV show...
I have a morbid curiosity and fascination for the dark places, I have no words to explain it.
It meets me on a primal level. It meets something in my soul that nothing else does.
When I am attached to this sludge I cannot seem to break away.
I don't even try.
I can hear a loud bird. Not a hoot or a coo, but something in between.
The birds must be feeling the love of the sun too. They are lucky they don't watch TV.
I feel like living now, not singing, but at least retaining a bit of the rest of the day.
Why are all the blinds in the house drawn? Why does the house feel despondent, sad, hermetic?
Why do chores seem like giant hopeless tasks on a winter day?
The sun is weaving her magic into me.
The being who could not bathe or walk upright for the past two days is soaking up the rays like a giant happy cat. The TV people can't get me out here.
I chose life.
The boxer and the actor
I saw them on the sidewalk near The Radio music Hall
in New York, Jack was telling Alan a joke
Jack Dempsey wore a sport’s jacket, brown trousers
a white shirt’s open, top button open
shiny shoes; Alan Ladd, wore a grey suit, with matching
tie (Everyone had shiny shoe trainers not yet invented)
I noticed he was considerably smaller than Jack.
I was in awe had never seen someone famous
life and up close; this was, in 1957, I was so young.
I bought a ticket to see the show at the music hall
before the movie dancing girl came to the stage
with live music and plenty of thighs.
The final was a big kick a woman got it wrong
she kicked with her left leg when she realized her mistake
shifted to the right leg; too late, the music had stopped
but with one leg still in the air, it was what I remember.
While constipation kept me in arrears,
asper daily writing,
thus ordinarily straight forward
practiced process culling material,
(a daily endeavor generally mastered
by your truly), this moment bares
with more difficulty, thus derriere's
functionality created backlog
(of personal business),
hence presenting literary chops,
a real bummer today,
disgruntlement with Fanny Pack,
(which gripe flares
cheeks) pitted me considerably
behind schedule, so...here's
the scoop (hoop fully solid explanation
for my absence) amidst
virtual chattering class
otherwise known as Face booking,
Instagramming, and Whatsapp
pin with ma Jeers
zee Boyz'n the hood,
ah...also dem "Back Street Boys"
oh mother f***er...,
I just learned day got eliminated
and blocked, (cuz o' their wiped out,
wasted, sunken,
flushed, dumpy untidily
bowled over appearances),
Sergeant Scott Coreless forced their
evacuation citing Lumineers
as more ass toot,
hence the emcee then welcomed,
opening dreck "Johnny On The Spot,"
and the "The Proctologists,"
who performed before nares
Naked Lady sighted spectators, with
lovers spooning within cheeky pairs
otherwise, essentially a pooped out crowd
sitting on their haunches,
while myself perched
some distance away
with my comfortably numb tuckus
atop the porcelain Goddess
a awaiting emetic to expel
for iCloud to finish updating
before continuing with sign out...
from this Macbook Pro,
which aye sheepishly pro state
as the long winded soup peer
re: or (flatulence riddled) explanation.
(prior to tha ode dee us political stink sans hillary rodham clinton, i scrawled out this poem. her likelihood to grasp to political mantle than considerably greater than fourteen months when another official will help keep america safe and sound from cares and concerns of an uncertain future).
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Bill leave me
Hugh will cause a beloved howel
From him – the divine necromancer with magic dowel
If ambition stirs thee to make presidential bid for we Chelsea
Reverberating throughout terrestrial bowel
Analogous to former reigning supreme ringleader Muhammad Ali!
As an obedient student who crossed his t’s and affixed every “I” with a dot
Although high letter grades this older papa never got
(Undiagnosed anxiety inducing pressure cooker symptoms made me hot)
I recognize brilliance, and thus would immediately cast my lot
From the current secretary of state whose political skills right on spot!
One year hence, this democrat will cast his vote
Without doubt maintaining his party line
No matter campaigners with republican huzzahs will tote
Unable to change opinion of mine
Praying that economic maelstrom she can brazenly smote
If necessary seeking oracle of Delphi for a positive sign
Or devising my own catchy slogan to quote
Common as this generic human dust mote
Whose esprit de corps would to the stratosphere float
Like some over inflated helium filled ballooning goat
Kidding nobody that view from on high depicts sinking American boat!
Please take to heart
From this fellow (among ship of fools)
Who decries special interest groups sway to sabotage and up-end donkey cart
With extreme elephantiasis haunting white house with ghouls
With penchant to undermine sacred constitution with graffiti art!
This Joe schmoe of a lame duck nada so soup per poet
(who idolizes billy eve able applications of a cigar re: monica lewinsky)
would be in awe
And inwardly hee-haw
If this poem affected your name to be on ballot garnering cheers from this paw
And knows that in those random polls made of straw
The former forty second first lady gaga to engender revolutionary thaw!
Inheriting awful army from his father,
Alexander became his life-script’s author;
Schooled by best of philosophers in history,
Gaining in all arts sky-high mastery;
At the slaughter of his father by an enemy,
In a wedding of the very royal family;
Murdering many to capture his power,
Fighting wars with half-mother and sister;
Suppressing many a mighty revolt,
To tribes, states and kingdoms putting a bolt;
Confronted by Persians and nearly got killed,
Won laurels, fighting and much blood spilled;
Encountering Darius for his kingdom great,
Getting him, amidst all odds; deciding his fate;
Disillusioned by a simple sage of India,
On his expedition toward annexation mania;
Fighting against Porus, king of Pauravas,
Turning back at the insistence of army, anxious;
Establishing an empire by great breakthrough,
Yet, leaving it at a youthful age of mere thirty two;
Who could imagine of the collapse of his kingdom,
At his death, as though a natural martyrdom…?
Entire life spent in capturing them inch by inch,
How one might guess every inch has its flinch?
Yet to me, his life was not a bundle of victory or loses,
Isn’t success and failure part of Pandora boxes?
He ate; he drank; like true king he fought battles,
He ran his life through plains and hills and stumbles;
He craved for land; this he considerably captured,
Though, ultimately, six feet was all that he needed…!
06 December 2021
If you ever espy a latitudinally
and longitudinally challenged
older yet shopping savvy woman,
(wedded to yours truly
for almost twenty six years),
who stands approximately
four feet and ten inches
a strong hunch that gal
stacks up as mine missus,
she dons costumed headwear
to avoid station identification,
whenever she steps out
into the public limelight
anywhere outside these four walls
of our one bedroom apartment
here within bucolic Schwenksville,
the town that town forgot,
and the decades could not improve,
where all the women good looking,
the men strong, and the children
wise to the ways of technology.
When this logophile
quite a few pounds lighter
ever since I first became acquainted
with unnamed aforementioned woman,
she adopted predilection to don apparel
allowing, enabling, and providing
modus operandi to present herself incognito.
Ofttimes said spouse of mine
upon returning from
grocery shopping spree
(ever price conscious of various
and sundry commestibles -
with a knick knack paddy whack
give this doggone husband
a plant based NON GMO bone),
she can rattle off the prices
of targeted items on her mental rolodex
how much food cost at:
ALDI, GIANT, LIDL, WEGMANS...
While scurrying to and fro
hither and yon,
a stranger might unexpectedly
pay a compliment to iterated getup,
which bobbin noggin makes her
easy to identify, when yours truly
tags along, (but despite
being considerably taller
by almost twelve inches),
these spindleshanks of one
sentient, ship shaped,
shanghaied, salubrious,
slithering, snakish, stuttering,
sluggish, smashface scarred,
sober, solitary, sangfroid
skidamarink singing, Shamokin
speaking scrivener, scuzzy,
spunky, starved, submissively
suicidal, sunburned, senseless
salaried shuffling senescent
snoutish soundcloud shutterflying
snapchatting schnorrer
find impossible mission
to keep pace with the wife.