Long Half wit Poems
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“Life is too short to be serious all the time. So, if you can’t laugh at yourself, call me and I’ll laugh at you.” - Anonymous
Silliness is not a curse, it's a blessing if you care to know.
To be serious and smug is what all fake people like to show.
To be light-hearted and silly billy is not a sin, blunder.
Seriousness is malady best killed before life's asunder.
Silliness helps you break the ice and lightens life's many burdens
Prudish approach inevitably makes you miss all the guerdons
Life itself throws silliest of problems have you ever noticed.
In love matters, you've no idea even the remotest
And if you take silly matters seriously life becomes hell.
It's from certain foolish experiences I can simply tell.
When serious becomes silly, and silly becomes serious,
You're inviting troubles in your life and it becomes tedious.
Experience says silly behaviour can be rewarding too.
If it's not overdone, beyond measure, and you are truly you.
I've heard humour and silliness are natural, free, stress-busters.
Laconic, but timely silly jokes can be happy life's thrusters.
So, do not underestimate what appears a silly half-wit.
Despite appearance, he's the happiest soul you care to admit.
Persona Non Grata
She was persona non grata.
But, very blessed to not know it.
Her loving words, but a naive sonata,
Unaware, she was thought of, as a half wit.
Down God’s sunny lane she looked.
Tears rolled down her summer dress.
But, she realized, just cold-hearted people.
Conceited and mean, cause ugly distress.
God in His heaven, sees what they do~
Let no man or woman, ever downgrade you!
7/25/2024 poem 1
Psalm34:18~ “ The Lord is near to the
brokenhearted and saves the crushed
in spirit.”
...Duncan pulled free and sprinted, half-mad,
tears streaming as he made his retreat,
he’d never imagined hell this bad,
and didn’t much care if they were beat.
All he desired was to get clear,
to run himself far away from here,
but as the boy ran his panicked sprint,
lines of provincials marched up to him,
a commander grabbed him, smacked him hard,
said, “Come on, lad, we’ll yet win the day!”
Forced him to march back into the fray,
but as before, they didn’t get far.
How Duncan survived this next attack,
he didn’t know, nor how he got back…
’Twas a beaten army marching south
along the wooded shores of Lake George,
there great advance turned into a rout,
without getting in sight of the fort,
the French would still control Lake Champlain,
and Duncan asked if he was still sane…
One thousand British casualties,
due to that half-wit Abercrombie,
Duncan wintered down at Fort Edward,
and troubling thoughts came to his mind,
he tried, but no reason could he find
for putting all those lives to the sword,
so that a king he’d never chosen
could claim more land, and taxes from men.
Was that what his life would amount to?
Was this the reason he’d come to be?
He did not see how it could be true
that he lived to fluff some king’s glory.
Was that the same reason the French fought?
For the power that their Louis sought?
How could it be so many were damned
to feed the vanity of one man?
The pride he’d felt for his soldiering,
blew away like thin clouds in a breeze,
in not much could poor Duncan believe,
all certainties of old now fading.
He wanted to run away from this hurt,
but knew he would hang if he dared desert.
The next year Abercrombie was gone,
and Lord Amherst had taken control,
his leadership promised a new down,
he’d seized Louisburg, was much extolled.
In July his army did sail north,
the French had only a meager force,
so small that they left their forward lines,
and fled to the fort to buy some time.
Amherst did not make the same mistake,
he took his time, and set up a siege,
the French knew they would not be relieved,
so they fled north by Champlain’s great lake,
but not before a great flash was seen,
they blew up their powder magazine!
CONCLUDES IN PART IV.
An unsavory man from Montreal
squatted in dim lit cafes
writing of the pain of love
a charlatan
he was the darker lovely dove
he inhaled the smoke of Satan
he sang to the devils army
purist of evil
his grave a urinal
to be used, over and over
his words knelt like prayers
and rose like knives.
Thinning morals
he possesses zero virtue
just a shadow
of the fires down below
he sings for the child killers
the thieves and robbers of the land
he chants of love, he means rape
for those not of his blend
his wishes burnt under
hidden flames of hostility
He may dress in rags
he may play the victim
in the end though
he will burn your flesh
a sacrifice
then he will call you his fool
he sang for genocide
not for the goyim half wit
Dead, he is dead
angels he will never see
Possibilities
Feed not your ego with self-encouragement
In an artificial world, if given the chance
To ineptly spout, however impotently,
And cull not vanity, but bide your ignorance.
Imagine not a yarn where perched on a throne,
Stomping your foot signifying authority,
Salivating on things you could change but won’t,
Is seedy attention-getting and foolhardy.
Clothe not in disguise your greedy ambitions,
Justified by half-wit pride and intelligence;
Ashamed, you’re not a beauty of consequence;
Shun the crowd in persecution of innocence.
Dream of possibilities placed before you,
Exploring adventurously and witnessing truth.
Choose friends keenly, filtering out cynicism;
Be yourself, reaching for the stars and succeeding.
My god, red bra, orange pants, and green socks, I’m making love to a traffic light.
Get on with it.
I can’t, where do I start.
What does it matter?
It matters a lot, if I start with your bra, do I stop, or do I drive on knowing three penalty points and an eighty pound fine are coming my way. Do I start with your pants, amber gambling, if I start with your socks, then that’s it, I’m away?
Well, what do you expect me to do.
I expect you to dress appropriately for the occasion, I mean, Gok Wan couldn’t fix you.
Well, if we’re in an insulting mood, I don’t like the tiger pants you wear, especially as tigers are nearly extinct.
Oh god, did you really say that, I’m going out with a moron, 0.5 wit.
What does that mean?
It means you’re a half wit.
Well, I was going to get naked, and put my duffle coat on to get you excited, but not now.
Just what every guy wants, a naked girl in a duffle coat.
Some guys would die to see me naked in a duffle coat.
Do you know, you’re right, I've now got this fantasy in my head, put on an orange hat, and wow, pelican crossing.
Get knotted, and I tell you now, that’s the only action you’ll get tonight
Well, in that case I’ll just have to create a fantasy
On he went with it, hallucinating vividly while she stood there, unarmed and furious.
Hell, she was already horny, maybe she could save the situation. She looked down at her pants.
You know, you could still drive, if you haven't already crossed the line.
His eyes opened quickly, as if trying to catch her lying. He considered it...
Lose the bra and the socks
Lose the tiger get up
Both coming halfway, they now stood in the bedroom, one more naked than the other. Still a little insulted, she went on to caress his member.
He, too stubborn to show his pleasure, gazed at the ceiling, feigning boredom.
Furious, she slapped him across his face with a high-pitched shriek, picked up her things and walked towards the door, getting dressed on the go.
Realizing he had gone too far and that he was now all up and running, he tried to change her mind.
BAM went the door.
She'll call.
Sleep still ain't shhtt
It's like my eyes n brain js quit
Maybe it helps sometimes..a bit
But my very own reality is soooo much more than legit.
If I never had to sleep,
I swear I'd stay running in circles
Kuz, honestly
I dnt see the point in any of thiss
Every single fkin person on this planet
Is fabricated from 100% plastic
I know u think I'm being a lil drastic
Or dramatic
But I'm no half wit
You couldn't understand tha half of it
You'd be too extra with all of your calculus
But to be honest..
all ya gotta do is put a tiny flame to their skin
Watch them crawl and twitch n triple blink in tha fastest second u could ever pretend to think
People heard the phrase knowledge is power
But tha issue is most are too lazy to truly devour
all of that information that they encounter
js by clicking some buttons into their browser
Unfortunately that laziness kicks in when their brain feels a tingle
And they skim thru the pages, only looking
None of it ever sinking in
Dumbed down..held back
Not even close to being able to
Completely interact
On the level our brains should be at
witch’s cauldron had bit of a hiccup today
ghosts and goblins laughed about it a bit
Halloween humor lives beyond the fray
Dracula’s ghost appeared with a happy hey
some of the warlocks and wizards had a fit
witch’s cauldron had a bit of a hiccup today
a whisper left my arm hairs straight up in a way
who was this entity? Was I now a half-wit?
Halloween humor lives beyond the fray
My feelings were macabre, peace now at bay
Scared now, I found a cubby into which to flit
witch’s cauldron had a bit of a hiccup today
A low growl left me without anything to say
teeth marks in my arm resolved my grit
Halloween humor lives beyond the fray
my ashen face was probably a mealy gray
this cave like place was dimly drably lit
witch’s cauldron had bit of a hiccup today
Halloween humor lives beyond the fray
A map's a guide to find a world
Knitted by angels,plain or pearled,
And though you need a map as guide,
Keep your own eyes open wide.
I spent a year caught in a map
Until I found a big enough gap
I crawled out through this exit slit,
So here I am,like some half wit.
Words can act like heroin,
You live so high ,where I have been.
But onto earth I gladly fall.
The air, the sun, the rain is all.
My senses are my lovers long-
My ears,my eyes,my skin my tongue.
The winds caress my naked flesh,
To dwell on earth is all I wish.
I'll live with mice and birds and plants,
I'll share my food with miscreants
I'll keep my words inside a tin;
And only, now and then,go in.
I'll live with cats and spiders three.
And like a wild flower grow quite free.
I' ll give my words to those who hear,
And eventually I'll disappear
Earth to earth then ash to ash
When soaked with rain I shall disperse.
My atoms wing like butterflies,
And to the Flower I'll fly,disguised.
0
[this was written to celebrate July 2nd, the halfway point of the year]
I've been called...
half pint
half wit
half awake
...and half a dozen other half-baked
semi-insults that I have
half a mind
to half-heartedly
ignore
I'm somewhere in the middle now...
mid-career
middle class
middle of the road
excess baggage in my midsection
dodging a mid-life crisis
I woke up in the middle
of a good dream
Told my friends I ran a half marathon
"so, you couldn't finish a whole one?" they joke
as I half smile
for some reason I half expected to be
half the distance to the goal by now
though the roadmap keeps changing
I'm happy to be
halfway to somewhere else