Long Efficacy Poems
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Suicidal Ideation March 30th, 2022 linkedin...
to mein kampf insync with mine body dysmorphia
After reading articles
published within April 4/11 2022
of The Nation
I challenged the efficacy
taking prescription medication
categorized as SSRIs
and/or SNRIs.
Unpleasant side effects
such as earth shaking dreams
and/or especially hefty weight gain
linkedin with former
comprising my daily cocktail
of approved prescription medication
courtesy nurse practitioner.
Deliberation about courting death rooted
throughout mine psyche
fueling sinister chortle
at least since bout with anorexia nervosa,
but... maybe ginned blood,
sans umbilical cord transfused in utero aortal,
though long since recovered, the intractable,
haunting specter, sans grim reaper
intertwining within every fiber of this mortal
rooted, grounded deep, and branched out
into each nook and cranny portal.
Said notion provoked,
when made painfully aware
youngest daughter (aged twenty three)
plagued with similar thoughts,
damn genetics did maliciously engineer
clutching telephone while
seated at edge of chair
did apologetically, despairingly,
grievously... did air
pestilential, penitential, plenipotential... scare
re: distraction and understandable fear,
she might unwittingly plunge
into hopeless abysmal despair
falling prey into irrevocable
deathly hallows lair,
though kudos for her
from me, this sole Harris heir
to communicate, (albeit
hesitantly) into mine ear
suddenly wishing thy
Shayna Punim to be near,
but residing (about three hour drive
southeast of Portland, Oregon)
with my kid sister, attentive to welfare,
a sibling whose persona
doth show tender loving care
and concern, this papa
felt reassured there
would be every action taken
with sixth sense to beware
lest progeny exhibits
pointedly obvious lurching career
dramatic slide in tandem
with Old Rotten Gotham
into behavioral sink
emergency measures sibling
immediately would commandeer,
hence somewhat relieved thee dear
beloved progeny receptive to hear,
this dada expressed his unconditional love,
and grateful psychological intervention
offspring boldly did declare
indicative professional help volunteer
really asserted necessary to stave off
how dice throw of fate unfair
to said lass, whose demise,
would abruptly kill this sonneteer!
I am not a blank slate to score upon again
Yet there is this gap, this hollow place
That wants a name. I search for it in vain
The alien presence of eyes, and of face
Nothing comes back to memory. We are
Strangers now, and the empty space
Yawns akwardly. Thirty years is too far
For memory to recognize what is it I trace
For family and friends like fluids converged
In a nether space that makes glee brief
I feel the joy familiar as sky and sea merged
But the change in people contests my relief
For man have changed many things, but few
As much as himself - and as if to hide before
Familiar eyes. I remain old in a world new
And hesitance now where once I was very sure.
Time drizzled, drizzled, drizzled and terminus
Came piling up the sands of days for the wind.
Exile was my fickle way of escaping detritus
The sand shy had not yet blown but I was blind
And in the darkness where spins now alone
The white leached of soul calcified by snow wet
As unshed tears, under its stigma do so moan
More than the coming home again, the soft death
Of bonds, and the sense of proprietary loss. Who
Is left to stare in my face blank and expressionless?
And say by angle of shoulder: nothing here for you
I see all my labor like butter in the sun, and I am less
Than all the worth of man because the price of me
Is trickled in the sand. They kept the rules the same
But changed the game, and for lost of this efficacy
I am poured out from the chamber, a pot in shame.
For this I fled the foolish notion fawning in my head?
For this I left the better known of friends? The mills
Of stress do spin there still, the uncertainty of bread
And age from time's trembling vessel nervous spills
The unfriendliness to share because of a narrow dread
That tomorrow stalk alone will not suffice the failing
New. I was tired of my self-imposed exile, the shred
Remains I gathered and came home to true trembling.
There is only one familiar landmark, a true friend, this
Alone give my days orientation to praise. My true pole
Is where such a friendship in the sand storm still exist
The lighthouse in the billowy mist, anchor for the soul.
But I have no root here to hold me firm to one spot
Roots adventitious grows away, and then cold excision
The stem alone left in the miry mud to to swell and rot
Coming out of exile finds coping a harder final decision
Imagine Earth itself to be just another Troy, from which, after having raged
In countless battles from Tyre to Megiddo has not been conquered, only aged
And now, having defeated the Spartan race, destroying Priam’s home
Odysseus is captain of a spacecraft with the direction of Ithaca not known
On land to land, world to world, asteroid to comet, sun to galaxy he will wander lost
With endless delay, look askance-or with wanderlust-be unable to define a host
Of angels, like the first home, who—with celestial sound—closed God on a throne
Only future starmen will proceed without God's advantage, in empty space all alone
The victory of God against Satan, here, unproclaimed with all men lost, in between
The endless battles of lucifer and the deity; heaven's splinter to the devil's spleen
The past ages of travail, a mere testing ground of efficacy, the master's saving grace
With the bulk of humanity, like chaff of wheat, having been sifted, as if only a race
Mankind, having run as a race, a race, quite long, the original cause forgotten
How corruption had entered, how the fall began, when Eve traipsed the garden
Yet the race of man; his nature, his spoke, his mind, like a wheel intermingled
Along with the path of the gods--their flight, their call--the Seth of Eve first jingled
How could he not but cry out, from crib, in inter-mixed and complex strain
Since so saith Adam's wife, doting upon her first real child aptly named
Appointed to replace her prior kind, one stricken and one banished
Shepherd Abel first, died, from blight of Cain, latter, whose soul famished
If not his body, since fed with fruit and till of the land, in parched curse
His work distilled into nonsense, and measure as much less in worth
Then the gentle, strange and loving work of the Shepherd's hand
From Shepherd to shepherd, the Maker gave not to Abel land
Since he roamed from brook to brook, or down into gentle meadow
With his staff in hand, and flock afoot, only the caves like ghettos
Learning manly ways and singing with chest open and bare
Under open sky, canopy misting light, and all of life seeming fair
The Lord, himself, culling Abel's rapport and favour, giving him trust
Rather than partition acres, cubits or parcels of land, if only just just
The pain that I feel is caused by the ignorance I see on television and facebook, youtube and twitter, and most importantly the minds and mouths of the multitudes of people that lack the acquirable knowledge that would educate them before speaking.
Our world has misplaced the efficacy of human touch, the importance of human communalism; we have overlooked the significance of human life, and no longer contain the fortitude to express the basic collective dignities all people warrant.
The paths that we take toward progression diverge from the ethical constitutions that were meant to chaperon the actions of man; paths that lead to supremacy rather than a place of equality, where one person’s revolution justifies the undermining of another’s natural liberties, and a place where the flamboyant cries of a few disillusioned are satisfied over the cravings of the crowds that are too preoccupied to bellow.
The sexual nature of our children has surpassed the carnal ways of our parents, and society begs for the young victims to expand their complexities of sensuality. The female body is not a gift, but a means of entertainment; the man is not a sturdy foundation for the family, but instead a source of erotic pleasures. Today it is exceptional to find a person that is faithful, and tomorrow we are all sufferers of divorce.
My God the path we have taken leads to destruction, and we advance ever so closer to the end. The people of our world our depressed and lonely and I fear for the world my children will grow up in. I question whether giving them life was the best thing I could have done for my children.
Amidst the chaos of Earth, I see a photo of an officer assisting a sightless man cross the street, I hear reports of a blessed man returning his earnings to those who need it more, I see a video of a Christian alongside an Atheist as they rebuild the house of a Muslim fire victim, and I see hope.
Hope, that we can one day be rid of the current ways we have chosen to live by; hope that our grandchildren will be blind of color, gender, sensualities, and judge no one. This hope is the hope that will bring us to our knees, and upon those knees shall we find man’s peace.
Form:
Dear son,
I have no prologue, nor epilogue, only dialogue
That began when God's mirror was only man
God's ultimate mind, his dream, his purpose
The lump of clay in his hand, he hears his heart
Pouring over structure after structure of his great design
And we became as he intended, his cherished sons.
I did not make you this way, and should doubt
My efficacy to have ever made you at all. I can't resist
Memories of my own heart beating over you
When I held you cuddled to my love, new born
Is growing up, growing away too? Then the empty nest
Was the twin of your birth, my tragedy deferred
For the now when the phone never rings, and we smile
And say hello, for it is all a heart can hold now
Grooming you, feeding you, buying your joy
In boxes clustered like a room with toys ... these things
Are so superficial to the estrangement we have with God.
From that place of pain I would see, know, touch my life
Like I have meant to touch yours over the walls
Of many interventions and internecine strife, meet me
Like a man and think, how could I take you on Moriah
Unless in another way I had also died? Before we heard
The bleating lamb that would bleat no more on the cross
I had faith that you and I are more eternal than a knife
Raised like a fiend against the ethics of civilization
As if our best gift to God are dead children. You cannot
Come down from that mount without understanding
The way I understand how Oedipus blinded was the same
But unlike Abram, no deity supervened in his pain.
Every separation is another kind of death. Every love
A tragedy struggling to give birth to life again.
I love you son, and always will remain, your father
Longing for the same cross that always is redemption.
Late night overthinking
Heart racing, made up situation anticipating
Feelings chasing, dread encasing
I return, rewind to the start, replaying the awful part.
When they said that, what did they actually mean?
Conversation misconstrued, I probably came across really rude!
Going through that scenario
Searching for a way to let it go
Heart racing, situation is escalating
Tears rolled, feelings uncontrolled
I was the glue...holding it all together, what happened? Who knew?
Mentally stumbling
Rock and a hard place,
Put on your brave face
Dulling my shine
When will my mind be mine?
Getting caught on my thoughts
Trying to shake it, positive thinking,
deep breathing, count to ten, not working - count again.
Feeling like I'm sidestepping, continually procrastinating, forever underestimating
I'm in the way, just annoying, self efficacy so low, what to do? I don't know!
People do this so much better,
Heart still racing, face sweating
Non stop fretting, forever regretting
Everybody knows, cognitive overload
Short term-isms vs long term gains,
Refrain, hold back, don't do that!
Don't call them.. what would you say?
You can't say those words, total dismay
Stop it now, enough damage done
Heart racing, painstakingly debilitating
Beating faster, approaching disaster
She looked at me funny, although, that was ten years ago!
It was a silly thing to say, nobody got it anyway!
I've definitely spent too much money
Have a drink - stop the overthink
Numb it out, dim the shout
Not going to have time, I can't be late
thoughts re-group, consolidate
Move out the way,
pushing thoughts to one side, no where to hide, missing my stride
Am I mentally unstable?...No, normally quite able
Damn it, forgot the birthday card
How could I forget when I was remembering so hard
Heart racing, anxiety overtaking
Energy is decreasing, thoughts requiring releasing.
Confidence - an easy task, smiling - just a mask
Need to sleep, mind too deep
Deep breathing, count to ten - not working, count again.
Same time tomorrow? why yes of course!
Powerless to stop the overthinking force
Therewithal, profluent life ettles it's while.
Thitherward, from Death's bleak campanile
Grim antiphonals serenade.
A capriccio, the slashing swipe of the reaper's scythe
will serenade.
Stringent Death forthwith anoints the mithridate to
Life's cantankerous and rankling ado
Hither now come, anon recondite Azrael, neither protend
nor annex this throttled contretemps.
The antiphonal of the reaper's cavalier scythe
Shall now serenade.
Awhirl, like kerfs demarcated
Years, bollixed, muzzy and brattled
shall holus-bolus expire.
No retaliation to death's gloomy surcease
No ingenious riposte to the reaper's final cleave.
Bootless now to don the amulets,
squeeze the jujus,
Kiss the talismans,
clutch the periapts or
Attire in steely cataphract.
The serenading of the reaper's scythe,
it's efficacy shall blithely cleave.
Bedim mine eyes from life's assailing
Bedim mine eyes from life's poltroonery
Vocabulary: barghest-a goblin fabled to portend misfortune; monody-funeral song;
antiphonal-chant; protend-to protract in time/lengthen; riposte-n. in fencing, a quick
return/thrust; brattle-v.-to make rattling or clattering noises;
cavalier-supercillious/disdainful/haughty; muzzy-hazy; attaint-v. to condemn; rankle-to
give pain/nettle/gnaw; contretemps-untoward accident/hitch; throttle-v.to
choke/suffocate/strangle/stiffle; bollix-v.-to bungle or botch; holus-bolus-adv.-all at
once/altoghter; mithridate-antidote against poison; cataphract-suit of armor for the
whole body; poltroonery-n. cowardice; a capriccio-musical piece characterized by
improvisation; ettle-to intend/to prepare; campanile-free standing bell tower; kerf-a
groove or notch
Azrael-the angel that helps souls from living to enter the afterlife; recondite-not
easily understood/abstruce;
periapt-a charm worn to ward of evil; juju-object believed to contain magical powers;
contretemps-disruptive unforeseen event; protend-to hold out or stretch forth
A different weapon conceived in Wuhan
A Poisoned Jab?
Don't ask me.
The sky is no longer brilliant with the tint of Truth
A strange world this,
These covert crime overlooked by justice.
communism seeks dominance by invention,
Pollutes the air, subjecting all to speculations,
The Marxist shuts her door from investigation.
A gas inhaled needing a cure,
The media accomplice for dictators.
Pharmaceutical rushed to the lab with different names,
A greed controlled world.
opinion censored to stiffen logical thinkers.
disputing every solution to offer their Greek gift,
And the guessing of bourgeois with synthetic substance.
in less than a year,
human experiment called a Vaccine.
no time to observe efficacy.
Celebrities rushed for Jabs for the Camera
advertising to lure the hesitant intelligent,
The media invades homes with propaganda.
globalist compelling all by Force.
luring the greedy with a flat-out Bribe
Take vaccine and win a Million dollars, they say.
Close your brain as you wear imposed Mask
disfigured beauty stigmatized by unverified suspicions.
Suddenly the Origin of Corona are Okay.
Wuhan and the entire China are Covid free with closed door.
China dictates global economy by obstruction,
Just a Button from a Lab,
globalist becomes advocates for Vaccines,
denying you of Voluntary consent,
The first Jab becomes a second Jab,
Then a Third being conceived,
Oh! you still have it after the Vaccine they say,
Of what use is it then?
A question you must not ask.
Then they began a naming ceremony to confuse us.
Alpha,
Beta,
Gamma,
Delta they say.
From
censorship,
to propaganda,
Then shaming,
after that bonanza or Bribery,
gradually they take your rights away through cohesion and Force.
As china Laugh the world to stupor.
Is China winning a war without a gun?
Think! think! think again.
My dearest Cordelia: I scribe this letter now to you from domestic port, the embrace of our farewell still entrenched deeply in my mind. The morn is now upon the tranquil bay and the fishing trawlers have left their docks and marinas to seek bounty of Neptune’s great waters. I can see their outlines before the brilliance of the young days sun some distance away. Its light reflects a white sheen off the oceans body with the appearance of alabaster mosaic pieces on liquid sapphire. The bustle of the coastal city is already in full steam and the crowds of people move through the streets and algid morning air like the current of a river, every man and woman a drop with its own destination.
All of these things commonly taken for granted or a brief inconvenience in the banalities of everyday life; all of these things I feel I will grow to appreciate exponentially in the coming months. It has been decided that our nation will go to war, this I am certain is not anew parcel of information to you as the papers, zeitgeist and the common declamation of all mouths has all been of patriotism and glory for our nation. But I remain silent amongst all this noise and distraction because the thoughts I host are not of glory or heroism but of you; and one question. How chilling is time to old men the pilot the helms of this world’s great nations that it could make the disposal of a generation of young men’s lives or the prevention of the efficacy of our love a simple edict on a paper?
But fear not Cordelia not for me or our love for even though I am soon to be cast into the battle between the two chimeras of this world’s mightiest nations. There is nothing that will stop me from reaching our nations shores once again and with you building the bower in which the family we have dreamed of will grow and blossom. When I have won the war with this perilous world and all its unfair edicts Cordelia I will have your hand.
Yours forever John
Form:
Since world war 2, there have been more and more oversea scientific and academic centers and institutions co-established for united research and development, more and more trading and financial hubs and bodies set for cross-continental transactions through systematized logistic and settlement networks. In addition, U.S. has military bases and installations worldwide strewn for the holding of strategic points, prompt reactions and other necessary operations. Along with the augmentation of the aforesaid factors, international interaction and interpenetration across many areas have promoted a full-fledged system in accordance with which ceaseless traffics from every corner around the world shuttle and circulate day by day, year after year. Leaving these links and bonds unattended is tantamount to disowning these assets and the rights and duties associated therewith. Stripping away due duty and diligence from this system which has already registered American deep participation and its leading role will certainly incur worrisome contests, overt and covert, by and between insidious coveters and consequently place the entire world under a dangerous uncertainty. In sum, there have been so much interests distributed all over the world since 1945 that no latitude should be allowed for any form of resumption of isolationism, which is virtually little short of arrant abandonment in today's international political context.
Just for want of a nail, the shoe was lost. It's hard to imagine how the federal functionality fails or falters when in want of a good leadership; It's hard to imagine how seriously its normal course of action may be twisted, its planning and executive efficacy mangled and its morals and ethos corrupted.
Impacted by the monstrous mockery of the so-called democratic model of the free world, various extremisms began to bulk large both within and outside America the way hundreds of hydras ride the waves of memetic momentum.