Long Germane Poems
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Oodles Of Google Doodles...
visually delicious as germane strudels
the following cooked years ago
courtesy me noggin awash with noodles.
Yours truly crafted remaining poem
around 27th July 2018
idea arose within me cerebral dome.
...As poetic theme came to mind
in a Serge without a waiver
thus, I took a virtual Page
from Google LLC to slaver
with little effort
in an acceptable
rhyming rant and raver
about said American
multinational technology company
that rode dot com bubble,
where other startups did quaver
specializing in Internet-
related services and products
rolled out amidst
much fanfare palaver
though odd, how such an obvious
idea hit me like figurative brick
over thine noggin
upon instantaneously espying
Lyudmila Vladimirovna Rudenko
Soviet chess player, and second
women's world chess champion,
from 1950 until 1953
when bitta bing bitta
chitty chitty bang bang
that eureka momenta did click
mental wheels and cogs
as if...an oil derrick
hit a mother lode, thence subsequently
inducing automatic flick
as latest feted persona grata
gets done up in bold face and/or Italic,
nonetheless a commendable
spontaneous fantastic burst
of inspirational magic
commensurate with mine
modest prolific quixotic
of course, I WON'T applaud
idea de jure as terrific
and puzzle over, how such "a ha"
brilliant idea did not occur to this -
Ok la home ma sooner
ushering world wide
webbed trumped "FAKE"brouhaha
sooner to the mind
of this humble caca
Louie, who admittedly
feels tidy bowl flush with
goo goo Lady gaga
(tony the TIGER FEELING great,
a mild euphoria if gifted
as lottery winner)
over the top smugness -
unaware of jeering ha ha ha
within dark internet arena,
where the much maligned,
loathed, and feared Jaw
bar wall key (jabberwocky)
dwells ready to pounce
outsize egos hated
like an incorrigible outlaw
hmm...perhaps cognizant
ex post facto, I set
a deadly faux paw
forever remembered as
ornery oaf forced to eat raw
bits (hexadecimal at that!)
sucked in via last turkey in straw
that broke the camel's back.
Casting All 'My' Gods Aside!
Let us cast Gods aside if false praise buys salvation,
our actions make Grace less germane (bring us blessing),
and pride (I am ‘saved’) means I judge those who aren’t!
Let us praise God who judges the righteous, the sinner
with Grace, raise “Amen!” when ‘His Truth’ helps the soul’s heart
acknowledge God’ IS’ (when man’s dreams all devolve)!
*
Let us drown man held ‘truth’ if demise lifts the Nation
of Life buoyed by fathers’ blood gifts, confessing
who stands on strong shoulders won’t share the full brunt!
Let’s get honoring God’s not a menu for dinner.
It loves what gets served! It’s by faith, we’re ingrained, part
of plans for His Kingdom, though God’s ‘dreams’ evolve. (1)
**
**
Let us question all ‘truth’ that shows glints of self-serving,
and Truth that’s convenient to what the flesh lusts for,
not ‘Truth’ that “I AM” (in fact “IS”), died for Love!
Let us dwell less on death, though it’s part of the package,
death’s vision’s refinement, its lenses add color!
Death’s win? Tooth extraction. All done! Life goes on!
*
Let’s bear witness false pride is the death of deserving,
deserving’s a gift, and not earned but a favor!
Give praise to God’s hand that put’s on ‘human glove!’
Let us credit the Bridegroom who doesn’t take umbrage
that Paul dreams just pride in Christ’s Love means (Paul’s) humbler
than those far less blest (as he waves his baton!) (2)
Long Tooth
April 13th in 2021
Poet’s Notes:
(1) Life on earth evolves, is not fixed. Therefore, if God is real, He must evolve
as well! QED. What human mind can forbid God from changing? That is vanity
most high!
(2) A fantastic thing about the Bible to me is that while it’s literal translators
fail to embrace that the Bible is not rocket science, but poetry meant more for
children, their efforts do not stain the Bible itself. Despite the temptation of
priests (and parsons) to elevate Biblical disciples to Sainthood, the Bible itself
makes it clear over and over, in so many unique ways, that no human comes
close to saving themself by ‘right’ action in God’s eyes (His Justice). Grace was
always, and will always be, the only salvation for human souls, I humbly suggest, even before Christ’s birth. All are Saint's in Christ, before and after the flood!
Father now journeys
into afterlife destination alone,
October 7th, 2020 mid afternoon
with Earthlings ministration did attone
where night envelops his lovely bones
rendered devoid of any groan
courtesy Roxanol (morphine)
and Ativan finding him prone
to experience painlessness, and no
his dying wish, plus last will and testament
won't include burial and/or headstone
cuz, he wants to integrate and did intone
cremation as ecologically friendly option
scattering ashes to parts known
someday... yours truly will too
succumb to the dead zone.
Stark reminder to live fully an urgent yen
to live life fullest between now and when...
ever yours truly exits
stage door left, perhaps ten
twenty, thirty... eighty, ninety, one hundred...
additional orbits around sun
a remarkable human phenomenon
(me) courtesy mine burning ken
bequeaths modest minute man
near accursed immortality longevity totaling even
score of years counting (crows)
and father time among his brethren.
Distress unavoidable which mortality doth bring
nevertheless, tis impossible mission
to eradicate pain and suffering, which doth sting
consolation assuages grief, viz prayer
and buttressing coping with spiritual wing
profound absence augments biting zing.
Biological reproduction begetting offspring
lodging within uterine abode
subsequent in utero development
regarding accretion embryonic node
biological algorithm doth automatically encode,
nevertheless longevity invariably affected
no doubt courtesy lifestyle mode.
Random crapshoot luck of the draw offspring born
genetic blueprints also decree existence transient
parents emphatically teach progeny
got no choice must inform
daughter(s), and son(s) ineluctably forsworn
demise bound with birth certificate presents horn
of dilemma conscious the next generation
granted only so many Earth orbitz around sun.
Once grim reaper deftly
communicates I must bid adieu
eternal hasta la vista to kith and kin
please don't shed a tear for generic
germane admirable bad company crew
member, albeit healthy as an ox
never got the flu,
an atheist doubting thomas
though genealogy records
incorporate many a cynical Jew
at least one legendary antiestablishmentarian
gleaned within mine purview
shunned, ostracized and banished to Xando.
Autumn In The Air - Hooray
Respite from punishing
heat wave - yay
which above line,
could "speak" volumes,
and be a stand alone poem
offering readers
a reprieve nsync
whence roasting, sultry,
and torpid unpleasant
weather since yesterday
boot such brevity,
would disallow
me to extemporize,
but more importantly today
this intrepid word
smith doth "say,"
he would never
wanna miss trodding,
the formerly (golden
in their heyday now sketchy),
sections of said roadway,
now where digital electronic
rustily hinged, abandoned,
and gated haunting quay
a throwback, when
private manned schooners
(shaped like a beer stein),
perhaps headed to Uruguay
could ply outlying
waters of cyberspace,
why... just yesterday
when my troubles
did not seem so far away
versus this present opportunity
to risk live and limb
(and Kong like wrath
of my reed ding fans)
while getting way
laid "traveling as
Wilburys soul survivor
foreign ancient groupie,"
the dangerous, derelict, and dicey
dubiously dotting dilapidated,
dark corners information
super high way,
thus yours truly
doth not heed,
but flaunts like some cray
zee (NOT RICH, NOR ASIAN),
but rather some gray
beard (grizzled), curmudgeon
figuratively gnarled, toothless,
and weatherbeaten lackaday
lay about good for nothing
mellow flew wuss depraved
('cept mebbe "robbing"
precious and special time
of some bachelor
farmer from Norway)
all the above
essentially wrote for naught
merely (as diversion) to comment,
how this September day wrought
ascent o' fought
(a scent oh aught) tum caught
me wear'n a corduroy
long sleeve shirt since...aye taut
a "FAKE" hungry
Grimm gimlet eyed trumpeting lout,
germane Don apprenticed
how to become cannibalizing
(without accountability) fuhrer,
(and lastly rendering enemies
into sweet tasting sauerkraut),
this while learning das dialect
(tickle) Matt speak,
(which took me a lifetime),
this preceding the
quirky invention of the umlaut!
Another Day...Another Accursed Blank Screen
Ma wink'n and blink'n
mind nod yet awake,
nor insights keen,
asper ho hum usual, this
(day-glo bull leave
me you) after noon,
(October thirtieth
two thousand and eight teen),
mine myopic brown
marbled occipital orbs
fixate upon a
lone blinking cursor -
hooping such intense stare
will magically glean
a divine comedy,
or even mediocre
shaky spear writ tragedy, none
the less letting thoughts
glom (cess) pool like
into some elusive essence,
finding me madly chasing
(feebly, lamely, queerly
and ridiculously
likened to a teen
age paramour) intriguing,
nattering, and wordlessly
spellbinding notion
all the way to Abilene,
perhaps metamorphosing
into a topnotch
poem (ska lean),
swiftly tailored harried
style even out rivaling
the best newsy
Lake Woebegone fabulist
(formerly Nordic European)
scribes, that juiced might earn
me some crisp
legal tender green,
yet impetus to write,
NOT predicated on ram
ping up checking account,
which primary queen
tis essential money source
of mine to pay bills
appears extremely lean,
and thus apologize if
any hint of desperation
(PULL EASE pledge to
Matthew Scott Harris charity)
seeps extemporaneously typing
this poetic expression,
when financial resources
picked bone dry clean,
and me fanciful
thoughts cannot help
wishing for miraculous
intervention tub bring,
a raft of smiley faces
tomb eye gentle mien
such as receiving
an anonymous bajillion
dollars donated (tummy)
from tennis scene legend
(in her own mind)
aery Billy Jean
King, whose near
exhaustive earnings -
at least compared
to thy germane mein kampf
(accrued during - her mist
starry re:us horse sing around)
straw berry fields
forever hay day
with tangerine trees,
and marmalade skies
completing tennis
(tense) backdrop against
engendered match with
the late Bobby Riggs.
Yours truly does readily confess
the following poem crafted more or less
approximately a year ago,
when coronavirus (COVID-19)
wrought havoc creating global mess
when panic against collective temple did press
a feeling of melancholy and world-weariness.
Along luscious green acres banks steep grade
(in close proximity to
Petticoat Junction) naturemade
Perkiomen Valley watershed,
verdant landscape displayed
yours truly, (a garden variety
proto human) arrayed
solely donning birthday suit,
whose fifty plus shades hair gone grayed,
i.e. one infinitesimal measly mortal
whiles away hours, laid
back days of his life as
the world wide web turns
comprising second decade
of twenty first century
civilization, where
coronavirus veritably waylaid
furlough afflicts populations feeling betrayed
entire fabric *****sapiens staid
threadbare existence now best describes
chock full of endemic ennui proliferates,
where vast majority of people afraid
to leave their houses lest COVID-19 played
greater havoc, whereby society already upended
unemployment factor at record high since...
Great depression witnessed
courtesy somber parade,
ninety years ago benchmarked
from May 11, 2021,
an invisible oppressed heaviness weighed
down the madding crowds
aghast how stock market trade
hit rock bottom making paupers,
ill fate clobbered breadwinners
circumstance none could evade
October 29, 1929 haint no charade,
when Black Tuesday hit Wall Street
bitta bing bitta bang bitta played
bitty bitty chitty chitty bang bang
linkedin with irrational exuberance portrayed
American economy supine splayed
versus March 11, 2020 characterized
coronavirus outbreak as pandemic
by the WHO subsequently signaling
Trump cited "fake news" and not dismayed
to expedite drastic measures
none would impede golf nor Mar-a-Lago
leisure him sipping lemonade
acid test tee zing 'bout quaffing electric kool-aid
without getting his doggy dimples in a bunch
he grudgingly complied and obeyed
purveyors (governors) and Anthony Fauci
complete United States government shutdown
approximately mid/late March 2020
which undertaking generated brisk business
grim reaper experienced
(still does) protracted heyday.
dodoitsu series (rhymed)
Winter is taking the reins
speeding past days of autumn -
Jack Frost smears the windowpanes
forefingers and thumb.
You who have no house to own,
too proud to seek charity,
you choose your path all alone
that’s a guarantee.
Your attic room, where risks run
rowdy as the eastern winds,
barren refuge while you shun
warmer help from friends.
Churches serve a daily meal
without impugning censure,
Would a shelter prove to shield
Christian adventure?
God casts no smears. You must know
you are short more than your needs.
God produces once you show
you will plant His seeds.
Twixt four fingers and your thumb
winnow pangs of laziness.
Earn warm lodging ere autumn’s
freeze spawns haziness.
for Elly Wouterse's contest 3 Proverbs and a Quote
For my series of didactic "germane" dodoitsu, I chose three German proverbs, being influenced much in my life by my German grandmother.
-A poor person isn't he who has little, but he who needs a lot.
--Charity sees the need not the cause.
---God gives, but man must open his hand.
My quote from an international celebrity is from German poet, Rainer Maria Rilke -
“Whoever has no house now, will never have one. Whoever is alone will stay alone,” is from his poem, “Autumn Day”, translated by Stephen Mitchell.
https://audiopoetry.wordpress.com/category/poet/rainer-maria-rilke/
For word play:
“the four fingers and your thumb”, and “winnow pangs” of verse 5(6) play off of
“Jack Frost’s forefingers and thumb” and "window panes" of verse 1.
Word with two meanings:
Verse 1 – smear – v. to wipe or daub
Verse 4 (5) – smear – n. a slur or insult
double meaning proverb
A poor person isn't he who has little, but he who needs a lot.
poor person can mean poverty-stricken or a
poor person can be incompetent, inept
I used the normal 7, 7, 7, 5 syllable pattern of a dodoitsu but rhymed it ABAB. I really needed 24 lines to complete my thoughts, but I dutifully cut it back to 20 lines, adding it back in italics after contest was judged. Expanding on Rilke’s “Autumn Day” title, I took a different turn from his prayerful, more positive piece.
Soundlessly ricochet to and fro
hither and yon
roundly bobbing within squarely donned
talking heads of psycho killers,
one pyromaniac burning
down the crowded house
sparking magnificent conflagration
towering inferno emulating
caterwauling, kickstarting, ululating
(think) stray cats on a hot tin roof
nsync with 10,000 maniacs
intense heat and duraflame
long since eroding
weather beaten soul asylum
strip mining away
vestial trace, hence impossible mission
rectifying purposeless existence
imputed to passive self sacrifice
upon cusp of prepubescence
mystified, mummified, modified,
stilled, lulled, andhushed
obsessively grammatically fanatical
oftimes feeble efforts yielded countless
corrective editing measures
subsequently rendering lame
resultant deplorable effort
despite NON GMO gluten
and monosodiumglutimate free
diet of (hooked) worms
limply tethered symbolic constructs
analogous to dangling participles
scraping, plowing, etching...
imperfect triangulated Hollywood squares
across parched stream of consciousness
former luscious cerebral riverbeds
long since bone dry
millennium since onset climate change
courtesy global warming
blowing in the hot torpid wind
sands of time elapsed
accepted biological demise
forever linkedin with his forebears
birth/death repurposed cycle
activated, demonstrated, gifted...
integration, narration, reincarnation...
biochemical, geological, paleontological...
legacy randomly begetting me
epochal, integral, orbital saga
since time immemorial
fifty plus shades of once ashen gray
well muscled athletic human specimen
oblivious corpse good n plenti
petrified, metamorphosed, coalesced
bleached skull and crossbones
grown brittle when blazing sun's
rays generated aforementioned disparate ideas
jangled, rankled, and zapped
in tandem with bared tiger (no lion)
slapdash pell mell, helter
skelter, higglety pigglety...
germane blitzkrieg rained down above
leaving writer, tortured, mortified, and benumbed
without either sense or sensibility
nor pride and prejudice
perusing discombobulated chaotic
kamikaze lobbed muddlesome nonsense.
Bedlam and mayhem in the mistress's boudoir
(Nsync with variations on a theme:
various and sundry
pseudo lurid fictitious escapades)
mostly I did merrily wet
whet madness aye ever did dream.)
The missus personal trappings
strewn helter skelter
every perilous step fraught
with danger analogous
riding as passenger
with death cab for cutie
'course thy quasi bohemian rhapsodic Queen
of denial feigns ignorance
attributes hazardous condition
linkedin with accident prone
little lord Fauntleroy's
double doppelganger, me
trumpeting pet husband,
her unrequited germane Liebchen
willing to risk life and limb
doting hand and foot
as proper husbandly duties.
He (ahem... me) exhibits drama
whimsically visiting slapstick pantomime
especially pretending to remove sneakers
pulling with all my feeble strength
off little feet of wife
half-heartedly struggling,
lamely denouncing marriage
nevertheless conveying jollity
regarding marital entrapment
er... rather unbridled wedded bliss
constituting fits and starts enduring
about two dozen years.
I reciprocated amorousness,
whether toward MaryAnne,
(his long ago coldly dismissed
sagacious enchanting first paramour,
(half a dozen years my senior),
whose astrological forecast
accurately predicted promising
acquaintanceship/relationship
potential soul mates
(two score years ago -
gone to naught),
which latter aforementioned humble lass
decried he fomented
incessant emotional grief,
he cruelly (albeit unwittingly)
doled out nothing
but lackluster lovelessness
attributed to identical zodiac signs (Capricorn)
(matter of fact shared same birth date
January 13th - six years age difference)
stubborn misconstrued perception,
whereby fancy free and footloose
selfish nasty short brute nevertheless
deemed himself undeserving of love - humph!
Addeneum: Approximately four decades
re: one quarter century after
aforementioned baptismal initiation
love stricken paroxysm
forty fifth president of United States
took (i.e. plagiarized) many pages courtesy,
cruel playbook authored
by Matthew Scott Harris,
back a small number of years thee diva of this domicile
exhibited an aura, charisma, enigma…devoid of any guile
boot of late turned a cold shoulder to me and I’ll
avoid denigrating, haranguing, and lambasting said dell lisle
la, whose avoidance behavior toward me – who goes a mile
out of her way to ensure our paths do not cross – noah din nile
per the above – well, perhaps a slight bit of hyperbole
viz this, mine swift tailored, harried style
per potpourri of puzzling perturbation evinced
by said olde world germane German dame we lease this duplex
treating us, as if we committed some egregious crime
subsequently forced to stand trial
viz aversion toward this convivial, frivolous and introspective chap
methinks said realtor/renter joined a coven den
where doe eyed zen of thieves
occupy teaching rubric of mean-ness while
taking appropriate and selective pages from play book of sarah palin,
which tension unlikely to cease for the next nine months till the deed
doth expire, where by this witch a taw hook cans ass (ours) will be freed
of renting a long and fostered, roach and fox infested, century21
from once salient sympathetic ear this now manifested Scrooge like greed
reminding us (essentially via cessation of any interaction),
how she once did heed
to our various and sundry travails – though neither myself nor spouse,
the latter whose vociferousness regularly exudes loathsomeness
toward key per, once a vouch saving storied angel without fail and indeed
wife tis not shy to vent where a plethora of expletives lead
rant and rave toward an impending crisis that will me send out an SOS
ever felt compelled to join Hemlock society or drown sorrows in mead
yet disappointment arises, when formerly positive dynamic now im peed
did by reasons unbeknownst to me,
who feels grateful ye chanced to read
my babbling of poetically irrational from a regular Joe,
who doth not sport Harris Tweed
nor (despite any immediate intimations)
doth newt smoke booze nor drink week.