Long Feebly Poems
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Why look to the heavens, in skies yonder
Simply ceasing striving, enter silence
Be still awhile and on this point ponder
Let’s consign lower mind to decadence
Then soft attention harks divine cadence
Blossoming in heart, beauteous love hues
Feel oh hermit, our heart’s innate vibrance
God’s here now within, so what’s our excuse
Man stands against man, all hearts asunder
Why did we choose the path of violence
Animal urge, dragging us down under
Were we not born free, in pure innocence
Desire indulgence caused soul’s disturbance
Feebly succumbing to ego spawned ruse
Listening not to voice of our conscience
God’s here now within, so what’s our excuse
Live life in astonishment and wonder
Feel scent of love in each breath’s ambience
Shifting to heart, choosing love touch tender
Bliss bubbles burst forth in effervescence
We reclaim thus our soul’s luminescence
Standing erect, as with bliss throbs we fuse
When comes alive, our heart’s inner sentience
God’s here now within, so what’s our excuse
Divine aligned, we shine in full brilliance
As love in love with love, God is our muse
Upon Him let’s place, our full reliance
God’s here now within, so what’s our excuse
23-January-2022
Unbeknownst tummy why, (around
about 2200 hours October 5th, 2018),
a slew of forgotten incidents quasi
lee linkedin, and questionably
nsync, though lightly browned
with Alfred Lord Tennyson's,
"The Charge of the
Light Brigade" - ("found"
via Google search), nonetheless,
said decades old reminiscences
and remembrances, viz
early father forcefully
came barging unstoppably,
and furiously galloping
out of the blue - painfully crowned
ning me noggin like
a crash test dummy
on the prowl akin
to a frenzied blood hound
tearing at light speed - unbound
(defying laws of physics) just now
forgotten instances I feebly
try to expound
inexplicably purportedly
buried in a “mound”
long forgotten everyday details,
when all my (deux than
young restless) children abound
did with limitless energy ground
me with fatigue as the world turned,
two beautiful hearts lovingly pound
ding with oblivious innocent bliss,
ah such ordinariness unwound
recollections roared back resound
ding lee - into my mind
with out a sound
re: collections long since past
suddenly didst rib bound
did (mainly, when thee and the Punim
spent time at playground
as young little girls),
who oft times found,
ye or Shana clamoring
for this dada to push
both of thee simultaneously
on the swing or merry-go-round,
or later on during that evening,
or another occasion found
the three of us
laughing (ho...ho...ho...) as we played
one or another round
of Mancala, Uno, Scrabble,
Sorry, (where this papa clowned
no matter, he got his game pieces round
lee sent homeward bound),
those supposedly forgotten
days of yore suddenly rumbling
within thy inner sanctum all mound
joyless deep under ground
came barreling thru my psyche
analogous to a class 5 hurricane
like gang busters
lashing out and drowned
at my whole being.
I Wait With Bated Breath...
(yes...yes...yes, this rhyme
resembles a recent one of mine
from a previous time,
yet appropriating wands zone writing
haint no crime -
at least not yet!)
Okay bull heave me you,
at this moment
alm completely unaware
what the a muse zing
genie of poetic
inspiration will bring
possibly shelving what Calliope
holds in store for me,
meanwhile now
with impatience it ching
visa vis to discover
what this Earthling,
(albeit modest) will be amazingly
graced with, meanwhile aye fling
haphazardly, indiscriminately,
and jocosely blitz
krieg feebly attempting
to contrive ingenious emits
poetic prestidigitation in fits
and starts, sans "FAKE" wits
as this humble
human imperceptibly orbitz
around mister Sun,
(which about bajillion years
from now suddenly quits)
shining foisting misery,
where Nyx knocks
(paddy whack give
my dog a bone...) divinely,
knowingly and spiritedly visits
(believe me you) this trumpeting
stupid moron loser
forever doth taint
after this moment
(no need tubby saint
lee and suppress any quaint
gut wrenching chortle)
at what aint
no farce), nor literary feint
yours truly painfully,
sorrowfully, and verily avers,
he now lacks fire and fury
(as if nettled by burrs)
nonetheless, which ambition
dust hanker mink thinks furs,
and foremost (Tom
morrow i.e. purrs
sues tha owl mighty,
where fame posthumously spurs
me amidst pantheon
of great writers
which dream dashed
into a million,
(no...no...no...not
bajillion this instance,
though good guess) pieces
abysmal silence replacing
(palimpsest like),
mine over imagination whirs.
Cuz while ya steel got
moxie, don't nix chance if only a dot
before death finds
flesh rotting alot.
A self-actualized fringe benefit
as I racked up
orbitz round sun -
with increased measured,
(albeit neglected) ragged, and
shot thru tattered (turn shroud) -
regarding chronological yardage
brought to my dimming wattage -
sputtering third eye blind, sans
hindsight surveying extensive
emotionally frenzied groveling with
a lifetime penitential wreckage,
whence urgent critical (update)
foisted upon formerly entrenched
hermetically sealed voyage -
sequestered self wrought fallout,
viz long stretches of
time irretrievably gone with the wind
found me averse toward
commingling with village -
peopled within sin king
precincts of Lake Woebegone
joyus kneaded livingsocial
natives, now visa
vis (nee this past
and present atheist)
discovered the healing power
of powder milk biscuits,
when accommodated within Norwegian
bachelor farmer vicarage),
qua pained obligation now
imposed kickstarted mandate
to pay dying wage
clearly written along,
the sub weighted psyche walls
(over time) easily read
across my wrinkled visage,
where former cumulative
years of existence
pitched yours truly
figuratively teetering upon
precipice of abyss gave vantage
written in telltale creases
countenance spelling umbrage,
against me - asper tonnage
schlepping psychological Matthew
Scott Harris "baggage,"
wrought from decades
worth of uncultivated tillage
cuz n'er did I gather rosebuds...
during prime mortal teenage
stretch, thus present
day agonizing suffrage
yawning chasm miserably houses
bleak (Dickensian) testimony,
sans recovered anorexic
(NO...NOT... NEVER
bulimic), but feebly
endured desultory stage
punctuated quasi (moat)
towed riddled rattle trap ship
of state into deadly scrimmage
defies propped up
moxie succombing unrelenting
weathering, unforgiving savage
nasty, brutal and short sabotage,
wherein futile - short
changed growh opportunities
forfeited developmental stage
opportunities introverted
vehemence doth rage.
Bully me you, I exemplified archetypal scapegoat
Even as old (dish) married
(spooning) curmudgeon,
who receives social security disability
linkedin with social anxiety)
chose the fork less traveled
aye pucker with sunken cheeks,
(especially without dentures)
and raspily suction toothless mouth
drawing reminiscent guffaws affecting
attempt impersonating plumber
(think unclogging toilet)
please support your local bummer
back in the day one
long haired pencil neck geeks palled
around with another
hirsute nerd - Roger Kummerer,
(who both of us graduated Methacton
High School class of 1977),
and yours truly readily
admitting, alluding, and attesting
without shadow of doubt
representing the dumber
than rocks of said beastie boys
bandits, donning particolored pachyderm
gabardine garb getup trumpeting,
especially as Mummer
on each New Year's Day
with bare ass tuchus
excellently imitating courtesy said orifice
(as chief motormouth) sound
of combo motorboat hummer.
Ah... the joys of amazingly aging gracefully
happily recalling never being
beat into bloody pulp dully
imagining dimming sense and sensibility
before (appearing gratefully dead)
lifeless body dumped into gully
nonetheless all the while fully
maintaining conscious, and forcefully
summoning forth latent powers gleefully
choking living daylights masterfully
delivering just desserts upon Tom Viglione,
whose plaintive laments truthfully
resonate as blessed music
to ears unaccustomed hearing pitifully
sounding long overdue comeuppance
forever disbelieving wrongfully
perpetrated injustice
witnessed impossible mission
fueling an ordinarily meek lad
only in his dreams, he envisions zestfully.
Pugnacious thuggish hooligans... although
decades long since elapsed, whereby hoodlums
jockeyed to rain one after another verbal blow
threatening introverted diminutive boy
who, no surprise did eventually,
albeit (stuntedly) grow
(as an aside resembled anorexic
Santa Claus ho... ho... ho...)
still wracked, impacted, affected...,
this punster, he haint Joe
King, but upholds valuable humor less or mo'
feebly, lamely, and quirkily aspires toward po'
whit tree linkedin with infusing,
(no matter ex post facto)
freeing mine unsung hero.
SHENIKA SIMS
going in circles in my mind
jumping over puddles
doing carwheels in multiples of three
thinking of you can't you see
my artwork has more positive themes
my heart medicinally skips beats so it seems
cannot wait to pack suitcases
go so many outfits, bathing suits, and...shoot....clothes to look through
i cannot believe this kind of love i feel for you
i feel like a trampoline with lipstick because i wanna jump your bones
see, you got me saying silly (edit) like that
i am thinking quite unladylike thoughts right now as a matter of fact
however you have been respectful and for the first time in a long time i feel like a lady
renewed, revitalized, and reborn....going in circles in my mind
MARTY KING
going in circles in my mind
got sam cook requesting cupid to draw back that bow
well miss cupid shot straight for my brain and woke me up
the first lovely vision i saw when i did....well....was you
while thinking of you, i find myself feebly attempting to skip rocks in a lake
i find myself jumping up and all up in the spirit making the earth shake and quake
i look at the clouds and see forms of arrows through hearts and people kissing
it took me about twenty some odd years to realize that it is you that i've been missing
while others were steadily moving, here in this dusty corner i sat
i cannot believe that i chose to do ridiculously senseless stuff like that
oh yeah, i am thinking thoughts like a dude, but i choose to sincerely respect you
furthermore, you have been so accepting of Me as My Self, and i have never experienced that as a man
renovated, recognized, and reborn....going in circles in my mind
THE SAVIOR AND I
The Savior and I are in troth:
That amidst a storm He never shall forsake,
And I His mercies shall ever seek;
All His love and grace both,
He never shall withhold from His child.
And the feebly I can I shall keep His word,
Finding in it His abiding will
To be His and serve him still,
Till I leave this alien world.
His grace shall be my goal
Though I from time to time shall fall;
With knees upon the ground
I shall ever request another pardon and round.
All those His name passionately called,
He allowed Himself be found;
His help he’s never withheld
From them that pray with unceasing sounds!
Most of the following
words (fictitious) quit
tuss cent shill, knit
head, (non adult tryst) pit
tee full (sorry excuse
for originality), rit
dunk yule huss, feebly
abominable attempt at unit
tarry yen rhyme for excellence,
benignly, essentially,
and honestly wit
less, worthless reading mitt
tear real - dashed off
(by this hare reed rabbit),
wall henna burst of
(playful tulles toy) warren peace,
aye practically spit
out (from inxs of carrot juice),
now dost daringly be hove
brave reeder to comprehend
this dime metrical kickstarter fit -
bawling contrived nada very tit
till late ting, nor
not so great English lit,
and moost unlikely tuff hind
posthumous fame,
worm ma obit
chew wary verb boss
lee probably re:nouns,
(this once upon
a time pablum child),
nor e'en garner this hare reed
ole Jack a one hit
wonder poetic laureate,
nonetheless this
(o' whar did me bunny go),
perhaps to Brit
tin endeavoring merely
to join United Kingdom
(and merrily) writ
for the underground
to test skill at
heart felt fabrication like me,
thus exempting bing
considered, judged,
and labeled tubby unfit.
Now let yours truly whoop
focus to address main intent,
(sans for quick
pick me up)
and nary drop of coffee,
nope not even one molecule
to fill thimbleful sized cup
I reach for bottle of Guarana,
(one serving of
coffee per capsule)
fo' this aging pup,
who attests that caffeine
(liquid and/or
encapsulated), the sole vice
(except for barbiturates, cocaine,
"FAKE" opioid, et cetera),
which overdose nearly found me
nearly a grateful dead – thrice
occasions, where
circumstances of Mus
self (Stuart Little reincarnate -
with an insatiable
craving for cheese
laced with Guarana,
Paullinia cupana,
a climbing plant
in the maple family),
which bean sized seeds
affordable at an acceptable price
many times larger
than puffed rice.
Eulogy For An Unsung Hero ©
The late John Sidney McCain III,
now flies with Arrow Smith,
Babbitt, and Jefferson Airplane
five days shy of his
eighty second birthday,
taken down (to his demise)
courtesy, sans metastatic cancer of brain
defeated by an aggressive
deadly linkedin chain,
yet still earns kudos
no matter 1967 USS Forrestal fire
(during the Vietnam War)
his life source did
nearly completely drain
though purposeless prevails,
asper absolute zero gainsay,
no rhyme nor reason
can even feebly explain,
when approximately
a quarter million young men
(oh...yes, perhaps
some women too) perished
at sea, on land, or floatplain
sacrificed their lives for nought,
zip, nada nothing to GAIN
(my bald, billed,
and bold assertion,
a mere minor tirade
subpar class 1 hurricane
non-veteran civilian personnel),
nonetheless afflictions by said
United States veteran and,
subsequent Senator from Arizona,
what posthumous praise me expresses
merely mildly silly putty,
piddly, paltry and inane
as anti septic (of danger)
such as books
for children star
ring Dick and Jane
does disservice, injustice offends,
(perhaps descriptive word choices
might smack of hyperbole,
my humble apology if in apropos),
thus a more app pealing appellation,
could be Citizen Kane,
whose corporeal being got lain
to rest on a grassy hill
adjacent to the main
starting point of his storied existence,
the burial plot (right next to
lifelong friend Chuck Larson)
amidst a plain
extolling grandeur and solemnity,
where grim reaper didst slain
of Arlington National
Cemetery in Virginia terrain
concluding mine poetic epistle,
that didst wax and wane.
Senescence concomitant
and best buds with malaise
despondency inescapable as
infirmity ages formerly young gals guys
though age just a "number"
father time not shy to apprise
every mortal wakes to the
inescapable truth that never dies
each living species mainly
one known as *****sapiens
allotted longevity not much
greater than highest
double digit which existence flies
at speed of greased lightning,
which passage of years
zip faster -- this strictly my
perception as one nears
cessation finally escaping
nasty, short and brutish
how to remain youthful lies
plugged by health
and fitness tricksters,
"FAKE" staunching
getting older decries
the science of biochemistry,
gerontology, kazoo whist tree, pathology...
though many consumers
spend bajillion dollars to disguise
and/or feebly stave off their demise,
oft times, yours truly (me)
doth not despise
the finality frontier, whereby body electric
ceases to function and this poet cries
against psychological torture of anxiety/
panic attacks linkedin to penuriousness
physiological symptoms
even with prescription medication
i.e. racing heart, chronically
sweaty palms, irritable bowels,
thus there ought not
be cause for surprise,
where salutary marital
bond bereft, when he dies...
finally free and clear
of Lake woebegone angst no lies
yet not courting danse macabre,
but occasionally sighs
pondering courtesy visit
qua grim reaper who allies
him/herself to every storied birth,
whose wish to live
long as Methuselah
an aspiration this
scrivener doth advise
against, no friends family,
nor lovely beau ties
remain, a near reality,
whereby alienation, I cannot excise
thus toy with suicidal ideation,
though ye might chastise
elusive joie de vivre impossible mission
to attain plus world growing
darker shadows along edge
of night with decreasing eye
cite, and gloomy prospect
Medicare maybe axed...
accursed fate eternal sleep
destiny or her her offspring
might hopefully exercise.