Long Discomfort Poems
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*And they came to Elim
where there were twelve springs
and seventy palm trees
and they camped there near the water.*
After the red sea, after the red sea…
departing from its great depths,
leaving the death of Pharaoh’s men,
well-oiled chariots underneath…
they're all wet. they’re all wet.
Great sound of Israelites.
Commotion of the sights.
Nostrils of the Creator King;
imagination remains.
The kids in awe,
“Did you see that!? I can’t believe
that happened!” their wrist revolutions
left and right, relive the might.
Their kissers - uttersome wind.
Parents hush them. A bit frightened.
Who is this God…they thought they knew.
This really is the God of their ancestors,
of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
Still…
They arrived at a place of discomfort.
Thirst suffers…tongue and roof parched.
three days in the desert,
they have not found water…constantly
tested - will they believe…will they believe?
But they, not unlike us, love to complain.
When comfort is outside their brain…
they become most forgetful…they rely
upon their senses — we do too!!!
In Shur, grumbling, rumbling of cries,
“What are we to drink?”
Like little children, they didn’t know.
Like little children, they were not grown.
The water they did find, was bitter -
so were they…they missed the whips
of Egypt- at least they’d get their share
of bread and water. God in His mercy
exchanged bitter for sweet, and his sheep
drank until they hurt no more. There God
tested them with these words:
*“If you listen carefully to the voice of the Lord your God
and do what is right in his eyes,
if you pay attention to his commands
and keep all his decrees,
I will not bring on you
any of the diseases I brought on the Egyptians,
for I am the Lord, who heals you.
And they came to Elim
where there were twelve springs
and seventy palm trees
and they camped there near the water.*
9/28/2021
Free verse narrative
*From Exodus 15:22-27 portions directly taken from the NIV
are between asterisks.
Elim is pronounced ay-leem
From Matthew Poole’s commentary:
Palm trees were both pleasant for their shade, and refreshing for their sweet fruit. Thus the Israelites are obliged and encouraged to the obedience commanded, by being put into better circumstances than they were under in their last station.
Why me father/daughter relationship
important to this papa
Fourteen and a half years
since death of mother (mine),
nary one iota of communication
in general and compassion
in particular while
she lived, now wears
heavy and yokes
mantle fostering tears
indirectly sabotaging rapport
with eldest daughter
futility doth arise uttering
feeble secular prayers,
cuz interaction with mother,
whose vehemence more
deafening than banshee killdeers
exceeding threshold of
decibels tolerable these ears.
Now comeuppance came
full family circle, yes
that's her within picture frame,
when young, innocent, and beautiful,
decades before terminal
illness rendered her
incapacitated and lame.
Her second of
three born offspring,
and yours truly
that singular boy
figuratively tethered himself
to her apron strings,
which near omnipotent
biochemical bond her
rancor would destroy,
when lonesome son
failed to employ
purported adult responsibilities
solitary without any
even one homeboy
never knowing how
to maximize potential
rather totally tubular at loss
advantageously to deploy
supposed ducks in a row
always imp pond
durable feeling cast ahoy
shore lee within alien nation,
whereby village people
observe an exceptionally
unresponsive immovable
lad - qua zee decoy
analogous to stonewall,
albeit socially withdrawn
emotionally, physically,
and socially retracting
exhibiting no joy,
nor any audible,
tactile or visible life
stockstill like an
abandoned broken toy.
Silence spoke volumes mainly
I don't wanna be alive
antithetical to that basic
instinct to survive
protestations arose deliberately
minus figurative parachute,
I took kamikaze nosedive
a couple years after two times five
orbitz astride planet Earth
ne'er did amity, comity,
fraternity ever jive,
nope not even pleasant hello
would fake deaf/mute contrive
interaction between kith and kin
affection toward parents
and siblings (two sisters,
not twisted) I did deprive,
whence fast forward decades later,
a metaphorical wedge would drive
roughshod o'er kinship,
when fatherhood did arrive
though "star student" did connive
him (me) to test discomfort zones,
yet more often than not inclusive
integration abandoned among
linkedin with kindling explosive
smoldering volcano found
wicked volatility expressive.
Embarkation upon meditation...
Believe me you upon manifestation
regarding Das godaddy bing linkedin
with avast cosmic consciousness
self induced light hypnotic trance
I become enthralled
unless wife disrupts intent concentration
calling out "Matt...Matt...Matt"
bajillion times Googleplex
(slight hyperbole for literary effect),
subsequently courtesy
disembodied voices
deliver poetic inspiration
without forcefully summoned,
rather gently coax (zeal lust lee)
amidst Smokey and Bandits spiritus mundi
plethora of discordant
indistinct jabbering murmurs
requiring exacting golong strategy
kickstarting coalescence regarding
faintest hint analogously harboring
shipping news a boat
reeling in catch of the day
thus, fingers snakishly
slither skitter, sidle
at greased lightning pace
across Macbook Pro laptop keyboard
feverishly unleashing
unexpected brainstorming tsunami
recalling steely apothegm
strike while the iron iz hot,
thus such epiphany occurred
moments ago - in case
ye heard "Eureka" shouted
loud, free and clear
without moment to lose
yours truly brooked
stream of consciousness
ignoring flash flood warnings
slapped down one after another
figurative pontoon bridge
all the while skirting
eddies, whirlpools, fierce whitecaps
fortunately hauling unexpected
magnificent linkedin kindled
sense and sensibility
yours truly rendered speechless
(most time non verbal when writing),
additionally hodgepodge mashup
offers no rhyme nor reason,
yet burst of pooled
imponderable gushing silent spring
(courtesy ghost of Rachel Carson)
currently did flickr
demanding immediate typing
though poetic license expired
please don't tell commission,
nor chief word den
these unpredictable eruptions
(most likely indistinguishable
turkey in the straw gobbledygook
to the untrained eye),
rather good n plenti
camouflaged indecipherable creativity
(nope, not even practiced experts
keen on esoteric etymological arts)
stymied to understand)
mine swiftly styled harry tailored
gibberish oh baying avant
(to assign long sentence
upon Matthew Scott),
which "FAKE" premature ejaculation
incorporating poppycock mishmash
screened for your viewing discomfort
unbelievably came to this homeless tramp,
while he plodded across no man's land
with hud door hubble mojo risin.
It felt like someone was tugging at his veins
His head…
Ow!!!
A carnival of noisy masquerades!
His head hurt
His eyes hurt too
His tongue was dry
The side effects of “the cure”
IVs
Tablets
Needles
Tubes
Machines
PaIN!!!
Discomfort
Nausea
He hated this feeling
He missed his life
This wasn’t his life
Someone must have played a really mean prank on him
This life wasn’t his
He couldn’t wait to give it back
He missed his life!
This was medical torture
The cure!
The torture!
He couldn’t take it anymore
He didn’t look like himself
He didn’t feel like himself
He wept!
This was too much to take
He had no strength to talk
The cut was healing
But it hurt like hell!
He held on to his bible
The words in this book consoled him
They strengthened him
They filled him with hope
He needed hope
This journey was difficult
He fell down to his knees
He wept so hard
He cried out,
“Lord help me!
I can’t carry this yoke!
It’s heavy…heavy…so heavy!
It’s crushing me!
Please lift it off me!”
His tears wet his cotton shirt
He was so sweaty
So he dropped the book
He continued to weep
He cried out to the Lord
He wept!
Tears and sweat
Washing his face
He heard a bird chirp
It chirped so sweetly
His cry interrupted the beautiful song it sang
He stopped
And he listened
Eyes close
He enjoyed the melody coming from outside his window
It was so sweet
So perfectly harmonized
He opened his eyes
The bird was right outside his window
Perfectly colored creature
Red
Pink
Yellow
Black
It was magnificent!
What a great Creator!
He looked down at his bible
It lay open on the floor
He smiled at the highlighted verse
A message of love
It brought him more hope
Strength
And courage
He wiped his damp face
A message of hope
A promise
He received it with faith
He encouraged himself
He would beat this illness
He would win the battle
Oh yes he would!
Deuteronomy 31:8
King James Version (KJV)
And the Lord, he it is that doth go before thee;
he will be with thee, he will not fail thee, neither forsake thee: fear not, neither be dismayed.
By Sylvia Chika
sylviachika@gmail.com
http://sylviachika.blogspot.com/
http://sylviachika.wordpress.com/
https://www.facebook.com/sylviachikablog
Twitter:@sylviaoz
© SylviaChika 2016
how many people in your life that have been murdered?
probably none
my grandfather was a war herp
coma tosed
to have his wife a cripple
so i could run away scrambling from bs people for the rest of my life
11 tragic deaths in my life,
my family and friends
and their family and friends dropping like flies
the bills sent for the ambulance ride
leave me wondering why did you even bother come
to pretend to save my life
to wake me up and send me out the door
without being able to thank the people who just kept me alive
4 suicides, and im the lucky one to survive mine
4 murders have taken place in my life
and three tragic accidents
i have no idea what it would belike to see my family smile
theyre all dead
nothing but bs people come to watch me cry
who dont know who i am
never talk to me
and have no time for someone like me
off i go back to the hospital for more poison
and brag about malpractice
my stomache that cant digest any thing without pain or discomfort
but hey off your meds i can finally achieve an ********
love music by the way
the terrorist psychological attack with my name on it
offering me reason after reason to cry
what do i need another excuse to hate you
the politicians i cant contact
the police force harassing me
breaking my door down to ransack
stalking me to hand out tickets
breaking my nose afer a hostage situation
and its the bs people who tell me
trying to kill myself was the right thing
the military doesn't care
but make things happen over night
love watching you walk around in your underwear
at my pity party to be happy for you
but im not
im jealous
i hate you for it
your bs people
like these poetry sites with no clue
nice poem huh?
what a read....
go die
maybe after i get crippled they will have the heart to shoot me
but i doubt it
been raped, and tortured, and drugged, and beat by police, and held hostage
to be cyber stalked and have my accounts compromised
off and on and off and on
for 13 years
go kill yourself
war pig loser nation
what do you want me to say?
i know why people drop bombs now
i truly do
put me in a tank
and suck my d ick
existance is my enemy anyway
i hope he quits bothering to live
screw you face book
and twitter is a terrorist organisation
go ask microsoft
The Painful Facts
The nervous system originates in the brain.
Nerves send and receive signals to feel pleasure, fear or pain.
A baby’s diaper rash causes crying, pain and suffering,
Her torment needs attention , care and buffering,
She is so sensitive to pain, as were you and I ,
The slightest discomfort caused us to cry.
But because this is pain we can not now recall,
It does not mean we didn’t experience it all,
The nervous system is developed in Mom’s womb long before birth,
Of course, most people know this fact, for what it’s worth,
Why else does the babe instinctively move away,
When the medical probe is maneuvered her way?
She does not know the terms “women’s rights“, “choice” and “abortion”,
As she is killed, screaming in a fear and pain filled contortion,
But that baby’s pain simply doesn’t matter in this world of darkened lights,
She missed the boat when the flag unfurled for choice and women’s rights.
Dear child, you are just not old enough to be without pain and fear,
You see, we have too many excuses times one million a year.
May God buffer your pain my little friends when your shortened time is through,
And forgive your Moms and Dads for we may or may not know what we do.
And ask God to have mercy on us self blinded pretend Christians too,
As we vote for politicians who promote killing your siblings and you.
Dedicated to Chantel
This is a repost of the poem written 5/01/2010 in answer to a charge that babies don't feel pain anyway so it's okay to abort them.
The news today 4/17/2012 (AP news) reports that the fetal pain abortion law which recently came about in three states because of the scientific proof that unborn babies do feel pain is now under attack because people want to kill the little ones anyway in spite of their proven torture.
Perhaps some day our society will become civilized and history will reveal these acts for the barbarianism that it indeed is. Until then let's keep praying for our youngest most vulnerable minority friends.
Apparently now, Jan in the year 2019, States like New York have opted to let go of civilization altogether and drown their laws with paganism and child sacrifice. Lord God have mercy on us !? or not?
-Robert A. Dufresne
PS.
ET TU VERMONT ? FEB 20 2019
mandatory monopoly to teach kids a business sense
life long school writing career to help set up your children for success
filing cabinets for councellors to read through
to help your children reach their aspirations
by grade 12 the book edited and presented to the market
anyone can do this
writing a book to heal the mind
pick 5 or 7 names
write descriptive nonsense about them everyday
and don't bother putting it in order
Paying attention to your themes
realise when you have a breakthrough write
then rewrite that story
the miracle of the womb of dreams
women's intuition of an infants first introduction to it's creator
mom a subconcious prophet who just doesn't know
freud of the denial of sexual knowledge
jung of psychological awareness
all ties together learning to think through emotion
due to discomfort of heat and hunger
A gift to the world i have given you an oracle
sending the soldiers of god
walking the globe in circles to their enlightenment
by mastermining your war efforts
you can make war impossible
cities with their own magnetic poles strategically placed
the order of the compas points different for each quadrant of the world
The second generation Internet
pending approval before it is viewable
Bank robbing police in my backyard
its almost time for your funeral
Telling the well people to build an arc
just in case
you like to travel anyway
something better to do than poison your children
and repeat unpleasant mistakes
mandatory firefighting enlistments
preparing for droughts and floods
the war of our world v.s the wrath of mother nature
fought hard with the plan to end famine
still wondering about the missing priests
who allowed criminal refuge
children the victoms in one way
adults recieving the wrong sermon
Richy rich calling scotland yard
many of my dreams have been stolen
would like to go have tea with the queen
welcome to the Next level
the game of making ones life unfair
studied to induce suicide through psychology
waiting for you to come into my life to give me a gun
thinking i might fall for your good intentions
i won't
that much poison in my veigns
bank robbing police
if there is a problem solving this mystery
you just might attend some of the worst case scenarias
i have been living
His voice soft and cracking,
Wanting desperately to start conversation. . .
Discomfort only letting out a few words from my trembling mouth. . .
The center of the audience,
Still alone in the embarrassment of my own silent, screaming ponders. . .
His laughing. . .
Laughing again to help me notice that he’s laughing for me—
That he wants me to join in too. . .
He reminds me I am overthinking again. . .
Sadly, in this sickened mind,
I oblige . . . a curl of a smile from my lips…
Noise coming out. . . JUST NOISE. . .
My mind elsewhere,
Not even laughing at the film in front of us,
Feeling pleasure in the superior feeling that he cannot hear me screaming something else,
Laughing at his evident confidence,
While others beside,
Are in other worlds. . .
All around,
Feeling the superiority of their own thoughts, no doubt. . .
Curiosity like a cheap flashlight,
Flickering on and off,
And then losing battery…
GET A GRIP YOU FOOL!
They are just enjoying a goddamn movie. . .
But we don’t care for a moment. . .
They want us to know that the fiction is far more exciting than our insignificant reality,
Temporary partnership. . .
And I want to give him attention,
Because I want him not to feel what I feel every sad day of my life. . .
I want him because people unwant him. . .
And he knows that they are not looking. . .
But I am. . .
And I always have been looking,
Targeting you from the crowd since day one,
Steering my attention away from the braced teeth,
The doubled chins,
The collateral cussing,
That guy's flexing ass,
The buttered crab in false paradise…
His elbow stabbing into my world.....
And I feel awful knowing the thoughts will never reach his own,
Just for a second. . .
And then I thank God that he is not a mind reader,
Otherwise he’d be reading his life away,
In the sticky pages of my thoughtless, void existence. . .
I realize it is just him and me in the room now. . .
As you pour your glass of rum,
We ignore your existence,
Looking in each other’s eyes in that fraction of a millisecond. . .
Nobody knows us.
Our minds are bedridden in disease and frictional bewilderment. . .
No one can ever truly see it. . .
No one, not even I,
Understands these thoughts. . .
And it is sickening to realize . .
But. . .
That is the perfection I have come to know.
Opposing blades split artery walls,
like slender ubbraided reddish hairs.
Scrutinizing concealed glands
before a motion picture camera.
Meat to overcome oppisition,
distressing persistance of control.
Sideshow characters resembling their reputation,
pungent expressions of their slang.
Progress feeds the timepiece
with slovenly dejection.
Skillfull vigor regulates the channels
of slurring outbursts of temper.
Sensually inclined to temptation,
congregations enticed by violent pleasure.
The superiority of the throne's officers,
publicly proclaimed
for their ability as weapons.
Biblical roots for their offensive formation,
providing brutal direction.
Solicitting the groups disapproval
of the fringes defiance.
Multi-farious fruits of ambiguity
conconcted among the stars and planets;
all beneath the skin of
of your eyelids.
Awakening to a lamentable
confused darkness.
A painful birth
from a muddy hole
of welfare status.
Collectively force-fed
forbidden sexual substance,
crumbs of death cups
from the altars
of Gog and Magog.
Priests with robes like jelly-fish
emitting light
into the depth of emptiness
and night.
Issuing debts
of natural desires;
obediance to the
non-perishing salesman.
His unsegmented body
holds ownership
over culture.
Plastic organs and tissues,
poisonous fluids flowing red
for the populations impanation.
An ostentatious diamond
of intelligence,
an historic insight
from a throne
of the slain sickly.
Vast and unyielding,
baseless materialists
transmitting a visionary war;
A sythetic savior,
we are saved by your glands.
Bonelike heads of animals
emptied into the coals.
The tossing crowds
in the passages of worthless cities.
Twelve tribes of a spoiling population
with knees bent,
intoxicated upon the carrion
of a righteous lion.
A barbarous self-interest
regulating their prey
through glass screens,
destroying all value
with permanent doubts,
and a deeply notched discomfort in their hearts;
a thouroughly communicative
injurious ink of acid
seperating the indispensable
from the indivisable ingratitudes
of wichedness and injustice.
A polished mouthpiece;
for the ornamental rhetoricians
of Tophet.
CIPROFLOXACIN HCL 500 MG remedied urinary tract infection
No aversion nor embarrassment
admitting, divulging, and jumpstarting
poetic endeavor regarding yours truly
afflicted, blighted, and contracted
with urinary tract infection,
(though condition finds me
feeling pissed off),
whereby urination fraught with
painful burning, gouging,
and stinging sensation.
Aside from the aforementioned ailment
practically, nearly, nay already cured,
after taking bad medicine, I feel great,
but recognize necessity
to take full course
of poetically issued, incorporated,
and identified antibiotic
despite feeling more drowsy than usual.
Impossible mission scrambling,
rummaging, and traversing
complex edifice housing
nooks and crannies pinpointing
how I, albeit married (libido
long since took kamikaze nosedive -
most likely adverse side effect
courtesy countless medications
prescribed to alleviate the bane
of social anxiety, obsessive
compulsive disorder, palmar hyperhidrosis,
et alia) though celibate
became subjected to micturate
experienced problematic discharge
to take a wizz with difficulty and discomfort.
The miracle of modern medicine
(actually corroboration of many
intelligent people such as biochemists,
biomedical engineer, pharmaceutical scientists,
et cetera) nips in figurative bud
ailments of body, mind and spirit
without which yours truly
among untold other individuals
would be unable to function
close to their optimal level as possible.
Though long since averse
to the crass commercialization
of most holidays in general,
and Christmas in particular;
eons ago boyhood found me
unbounded, unrestrained, untethered,
et cetera with bounteous excitement
when December twenty fifth
approached then finally arrived
whereat I knew full well
bearer of various and sundry gifts
linkedin with mother reminding father
in quasi cryptic words scotch tape
and newspaper in such and such place.
At ripe old age
of three score plus three
orbitz around the nearest star
considerably less enthusiasm gushes forth
at clamoring to purchase
and/or receive presents,
but rather anonymous
zoological primate here
within apartment b44
simply wanted a hippopotamus
to appease the hidebound grinch.