Long Gambit Poems
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How Can I Compensate...?
Just between myself,
and cosmic force
this good fella agreed
to dedicate, postulate,
validate, et cetera,
what virtue thine parents fostered,
(like a beach house child),
sans within this sole son
they did breed
allowing, enabling, and providing
nonestablishmentarian
beliefs, dogma and/or creed
dance clearwater revival,
and oft times did
substantiate ethical paradigm
with convincing deed
this keen awareness,
(viz 20/20 hindsight)
awoke of late
(maybe last half dozen years)
where family members of origin,
(NOT tubby confused
with Oregon) did exceed
asper basic concerns
dealing with a warm
hearth and home freed
the requisite responsibility
of me to support (or try)
Matthew Scott Harris, where greed
(yes, this truth must
be bluntly admittedly stated,
no matter adult
responsibilities shirked)
yours truly flagrantly
did not heed
and thus at this near
three decade orbitz
sol hymn lee cycled
round the sun indeed
a sincere pursuit spurs this
expressed objective keyed
via this 2009 MacBook
Pro Laptop lead
ding me towards pro active
game bit (gambit)
under_scoring NO need
nor ulterior, interior, or exterior
hidden agenda,
and matter of fact
accepting (NO MONEY
down or up), no
Apr, May, June...
(absolutely) nothing,
within whatever capacity,
I (mutter hoof act)
help at reo speed
wagon dog gone Mutt and Jeff,
and if nothing materials
aye thank ye taking thyme
to peruse this wacky weed
(for reed dull.)
Sam, Sam, the drunken man
Hiccup, hiccup, stagger
Sprayed by the skunk again
Stench replaces swagger
Uncle is a rebel
Standards sinking lower
His Lust rings the death knell
Evil hands him over
Hiding in the closet
Moving from the shadows
Twist the truth to posit:
"Counterfeit their credos."
Urge grows ever stronger
Evil, even bolder
Acts are growing wronger
Sin the grim slave-holder
Sam, Sam, I know your plan
Play up victim chatter
Play down the bogeyman
Censor subject matter
Uncle is a front man
Paid to shill and tell lies
Lots of circus but no bread
The simpleton complies
Mocking moral wisdom
Bucking discipline's yoke
Twist the honor system:
"'Love your neighbor,' a joke."
Your debt is piling up
God's wrath, boiling over
Closer is His shake-up
When judgment takes over
Sam, Sam, you feckless man
Your gambit won't pay off
You shortened your life span
Your dying branch sawed-off
Uncle is agnostic
Paganish and profane
Justice is sarcastic
His rulings are insane
God's kindness towards you
Will no longer remain
Vengeance is overdue
Consequences are plain
Cut from His olive tree
Due to your unbelief
Uncle's owed penalty
Acquits God's faith motif-
"Faith is not a Schemer"
in this two player game the stakes are high
players can do so much worse than to die
marriage is no more than an impulse pact
love is more a phase than a lifelong fact
do watch your partner closely note her tell
miss it and you will find a cheating hell
the loss of love trust wins you a stalemate
it’s always best to start with a clean slate
it’s never about the placing of blame
both game players must have the same endgame
take a life decision, gambit or stay?
make the best decision “En prise” the day
slight caution may lead you to hesitate,
the end result: a love loss by checkmate
-updated July 2016-
Gambit
Gambit you were such a friend
twenty years we had together
filled with the fun of your antics
like the time as a kitten
you jumped on the table
and sniffed a burning candle
you leapt up high and sideways
in shock and nasty surprise
every hair of your body on end
You hated it when I sang
and would get in my face
I knew if I did not stop
you would bite my nose
just like you did Rita's
one time when she was crying
which only made her howl the more
you ran our lives with military precision
food on the table right on time
or you would let us know you were not pleased
The black scourge of the neighbourhood
you intensely disliked the other cats
but also you hated it if you were alone
a special bond you shared with my dogs
to them you were always kind once they
knew their place that is, too boisterous
and your claws would inflict a scratch
as for the birds you hunted them with glee
often taking them out of the air as by they flew
Our twenty years together were not enough
I still miss you and your own lovable ways
Gambit dearest Gambit you were and are the best
unique and a tyrant you ruled my heart
fearless and bold you now await me in paradise
written 07/17/2014
contest Animals Alive
To the Circuit of Energy permeating the garden, sustaining the canopy permeate
Washing through with waterfalls, cascading rivers, and upwelling springs the fermement
Was magically darkened when Eve took her classes at Satan’s grove
Where one tree (or gate or pedestal) stood, and the devil appeared like hand in glove
To capture her attention, draw her away from her programmed obligations
Little did she know that the devils deal would lead to abnegation
Of her rightful role as a helpmate, swquaw and poets wife
To rule as co-creators, in innocence, with her husband – Adam – and without strife
Although the invitation to new knowledge might have raised her curiosity peaked
‘Perhaps’, she thought, ‘only to have this new experience’ would raise her from meek
Humility. And give her new insight into helping her man: new insight new skills
How was she to know that the tree of good and evil would not fulfill
Any decent role in sustaining the garden, or giving of strength
Had she known that she would be banned from paradise, and removed a full length
From the easeof leisure, the peac of pleasure, which passes all understanding
What a tragedy then, when she engaged the devil without comprehending
The consequence of taking that fatal action, to partake
In the fruit and lust of the wicked tree: when after she began to fake
The full collapse of her station to assist the 1st Man, her original matrimony
She had, perhaps unwittingly disrupted her union with man, and sundered its harmony
With the role of Adam as a spokesman and poet was now broken
The life from before, when he merelyspoke and observed had become a token
Memory. Speech itself a vestige of what life had been when it was perfect
For Eve had introduced vast new knowledge through her dalliance when the devil depicted
A fuller knowledge of all the trees of the garden once fecund
Now all that once gave life in full, a mere second
To Eves infinite question; to probe the everlasting and to question
From what source, and what deep came the gall of God’s order not to mention
The mercurial things that she had seen in Eden, the sweet lull and whisper
And perhaps her fall, the devils gambit settled the mist-in-her
Out into the garden I would go,
To smell the perfumed daffodil,
When I would begin to throw,
My feelings in full intent and will.
Thy delicacy evades description,
But I know that it does not,
Since thou art nature’s solicitation,
Evolution’s prime living pot.
So bold a plane will surface me,
Tender me until I cannot hide,
Playfully withdraw my sobriety,
Until I am able to myself abide.
With thee, I know humankind’s bleeds,
And from Wordsworth, king and pundit,
And my gratitude to him intercedes,
The bitterness of god’s gambit.
Sweet daffodils, thou givest memory,
As the master nobly concluded,
Because that moment thou didst vivify,
Is brought back whenever regarded.
~ Poetic Mind Renewal ~
Get busy and toss the mind junk out!
I know what it is like, to sink into a dark
cesspool of poetic funk.
Reading those who are soul crushers?
To put me down, or their other gambit is
to ignore me totally, poet mind shushes!
Go ahead, go for it!
The wise ones here write, they know prizes
are so very, very, trite.
You need another to tell you, your poem
is great?
I find that it so unpoetic, my dear mate.
You throw us a poem once in a while?
Even if you win howling recognition,
You are guilty of poetic malnutrition!
Pound those keys, show us what you've got!
The more you write is what makes you so
truly, deliciously hot.
Poets produce, they allow their pen to flow.
No excuses from a Muse named Joe!
Try all the forms you can.
That's what makes you a true poet, woman
or man!
Like Shakespeare, no, you need not be.
Being you in a poem, rings true for me.
Commenting over poetry, a dead end street.
I, personally, encourage you to think again as
comments though a tasty treat.. will never
expand your poetic expertise.
Some here have been writing for sixty
years!
Some, far less~ so what~ stop those tears!
9/3/2021
Could it transpire? To set a nation on fire.? Could Lowe drop
The boom.? If it happens? It must be soon.' In the cauldron
Of insanity in this un-normal and dystopian governed inhumanity.' Can the damo-clean blade be turned upon who
Had it made in turn? Strike the iron thats been made hot.' Be bold
And decisive and tear out the rot.' Show your mettle and
The people will cheer.!! Banish any doubt or shadows or
Fear.' Draw your battle line and raise a standard.' Trust the
People to know how big is the gambit..Its halfway to freedom now
Get ready to push.' In true leadership burn retreats worn out
Bridge.' Forward they are waiting.! for an hour such as this
From dissillusion raise their spirits, offer integrity and then
Go with it.' Ask for support lay the truth out that is the all.' Unite and
Conquer as its been done before.'
Un-certainty..' Events beyond Biblical..
Being prepared for you.' Fire
For for your desire, a black heat though.?
Coming from just where
( you do not know )
It is intense, with the energy; all the energy
Of lives you have sqandered, including the
Ones that collectivly you self-relinquished
Such will your future be.' The delivery in inevitable..The sender is satan, he in indentured to dispense you wages, this is
( the gift that keeps on giving ) guys..' or gals...? I does not really really ( matter! )
View it as 'gender-indifferent?' Though most malevolent he can't help it by the way ' he is typecast by choice..And i beleive he ( means well?) Well for himself
Anyway..' But he can't cut the mustard.'
his gambit is completely busted, a busy fool is he, gambling on hostage taking.'
Obstinate to the enth; hell, of all degrees.'
Talk about strutting your tail-feathers,
and using your assets to get what you want,
when calling card
is no gambit or bluff to flaunt-
In the crimson sky, read taled,
"Glinted Eye", air siren wails
like a little Banshee crossed with Harpy Eagle
getting squirrely-with drifting,
chasing a pantry, sifting.
Shifting winds Wings outstretched,
a dance of grace and the Imp aerial,
serial predator with eyes that see all.
In silence they hunt, in character
they are found like a-spirit bound
to dive and move to strike like lightning
that could take the keys from a kite,
deliver it to lost and found in a single pass
then bolt onto the earthen or serpent mound
for a snack o ripe.
Picking, the time and the place,
to descend from the cloud-face.
A creature of freedom, a seeker
in the wild, it roams without shame,
blame it on the shifting sands-
and Time's dial ectic ding,
turn of style.
The real shame is not to lay your eyes upon
those diabol feathers of fire,
their presence a chakraic idol that evokes
a primal sense of desire.
Bear witness and be thou humbled in awe from this majestic bird,
to hunt like a machine without mood or fear,
in the vast expanse of the open sky, soars above,
perseveres.