Long Harmlessly Poems
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Most restful sleep since... being in utero
Courtesy restless leg syndrome
spouse called me expletive rat fink
ousted me out the bed with plink
as lovely bones almost got extinct,
whence consoled self singing ditty
Skidamarink a-dink a-dink
makeshift burrow of pillows nsync
shuteye analogous to grateful dead,
Elysian Fields I did drink
yours truly fast asleep
found repose within eyeblink
awoke rested minus
knotted knobs entire body kink
metaphorical twisted human pretzel,
yours truly did not shrink
though disabled to walk,
hence mobility regressed
circumscribing me ambulatory
range to crawl and slink,
no matter paralyzed
(albeit temporarily), I think
above mentioned rectifies
Quandary whereat legs
shimmy and shake
keeping the missus awake
she requires daily at least
twenty four hours
of beauty rest to slake
lest she renders me into
chopped liver and/
or skewered beefcake
nuttin I divulge "fake,"
courtesy this corny flake,
who years gone by
a scoundrel and rake
straying against marital fidelity
triggering psychological earthquake
present crisis pits less at stake,
thus forgive wordplay
much more age
appropriate than pattycake,
perhaps slight hyperbole
thee only literary gambit
up figurative sleeve,
me ain't no magician,
nor gifted with holiness
able to walk across lake
thus harmlessly,
kiddingly, purposelessly...
cavort, frolick,
before darkness, when I
unduly forced to betake
self and disappear hoping the morrow
will find most bushy tailed wideawake.
Thoughts about
The games in life, that one plays for his / her audience, are games perceived
- usually – by the recipient and sometimes by an observer, but to the player,
it is not a game at all, it is life’s essence needing to survive, to know.
I have no answer, nor am I the answer, I am just the lender of an ear,
to hear, a shoulder to lean on, to cry on - at least I think ?
all I have to offer is a helping hand, a willingness to listen.
Beyond that, you have the answers, you are the answer.
----------------------------------------------------------
Oh !!!, to once again touch some of the personalities
that walked into and out of, leaving flacks, specks, stardust
upon my moments, became a part of my reality in days long ago.
Those life’s experiences that are not, but distant memories
drifting in and out of my memories hoard, past my minds eye
---------------------------------------------------------
Daydreams, revere and their dreams of, have become buried
beneath layers and layers of film, film that has been deposited
upon them as the years, once flowing freely, have become stagnant
pools, filled with life’s, death filled experiences, - doubts, self-doubts,
insecurities, fears – experiences that once allowed the poisonous
debris to harmlessly drift by - during those days of one’s past -,
not to get caught up in, become a part of the all that settles upon,
weighs down, dampens and distorts the light into and out from
so that these stagnant pools only reflect – like smoked mirrors –
ghostly apparitions that are but black and lifeless.
B. J. “A” 2
June 22nd 2002
'Course as a grim teller of tall tales,
(albeit poetic) reasonable rhyming
quasi roundelay I readily admitted to feign
cuz, stringing words together with
pride and prejudice plus
sense and sensibility, jocularity,
and conformity I dissed deign
(spoiler alert) iamb, trochaic,
dactylic, and anapestic metrical reign
jest your ordinary garden variety
dollar short day late dime a dozen
penniless citizen banker Abel and Cain,
yet mine mean mien blithely, daringly,
fatuously, ludicrously, nauseatingly,
pretentiously playfully urbane
many (if not all readers)
will coon sitter
yours truly harmlessly insane,
whose feeble attempts
to wax and wane
oft times falls flat (splat goes Matt)
as if dropped out plane,
without a parachute
instantly recuperating while lain
supine (winded, but...
none the worse) asthma brain
suffers concussion, confusion, contusion
actually, immediately, and unexpectedly
knocked fluent German speaking ability
within germane guy verständlich?
If ye really comprehend
trademark non Turkish gobbledygook
then explain (using
language of least familiarity),
but best to commence
with eye catching hook
impossible mission
apt lit pupils (mine)
to evade even momentarily
riveting, spellbinding,
and transfixing look
courtesy ingenious way
with word ye snook
cored me and took
wind out my sails.
Nor could I breakaway courtesy automobile,
cuz 2009 Hyundai Sonata
would not start... yea for real,
thus finding me ready to yoke
neck (think gibbet) each heel
dangling as body goes limp
blessedly, finally, happily
ridding me of any/all hangups,
one less goo goo gaga born this way
poker face cards for him to deal.
UNGABLUZUM describes this schlemiel!
I was obviously hiding under a rock
Out in the hills
Amid my animals and gardens
Happily and merrily going harmlessly on my way
When the great cancellation began
And suddenly every slight innuendo and reference
To some historical moment
A moment which could possibly have offended
And caused great hurtful harm
To those so inclined
Was deemed hateful
Instead of just ignorant or silly, funny or crude
At first in my oblivion I didn’t take it seriously
It didn’t seem like my battle to fight
But you know, hate is just the child
Of fear
And fear can get a society to agree to anything
(10/28/24)
Softly, she lobbed the serve across my heart
it fell harmlessly on my arm
Intended not to tear me apart
only a harbinger of harm
Her game gained traction soon enough
darts and arrows whizzing ‘cross the net
Stung my forehead where I once was tough
her ringing accusations captured the first set
My counsel – my coach – gave me his advice
not to fight fire with fire, which never works
He’d seen it fail not once, but twice
wouldn’t let me look like a jerk…
Alas and alack, to no avail, as a forehand smash
won her the trophy, the kids, and all my cash
III.
But I had a much higher purpose now,
damned or not, I would serve the True God,
for thirty years I served with my brothers,
upon a humble path I faithfully trod.
Maybe I wasn’t a miracle worker,
though I saved lost pilgrims in my time,
age etched lines in my brothers’ faces,
but it had no effect upon mine.
The abbot swore newcomers to secrecy
about the truth of my vampiric fate,
and I guess I believed I’d just go on
serving an eternity in this way.
But one day as the sun started to set,
I looked out upon a terrible sight:
A small girl running, screaming in fear
as a wolf closed on in for a bite.
I hesitated for just a moment,
the sun was high enough that I would burn,
but the terrified cries of a five-year old
were not something from which I could turn.
I sprinted out with unnatural speed,
instantly my skin erupted in flames,
raced past the girl, thrust my burning hand
to the wolf with jaws of snapping rage.
The fire seared both myself and the beast,
with frantic yelps of pain he then ran off,
I staggered back, my pale skin burned to black,
bits of flesh had flaked off and were lost.
I made it back to the small gatehouse
and I collapsed in the shadows within,
the abbot ran close, with my fading strength
I weakly tried to say goodbye to him.
But he just looked down, said,”We need blood.
Run to the chapel and fetch me the wine!”
A brother raced off, returned with the jug,
made no sense to my greatly pained mind.
He filled a chalice, look to the Heavens,
said,”Lord, I know that I am no priest.
But if he must die, let him drink of Your blood,
let him take part at last in Your mercy.”
I felt this would be a fitting way to die,
burned by the holy blood of my Lord.
But when I drank I did not feel the fire,
in fact I didn’t feel pain anymore!
I didn’t see it myself, but they say
that the charred skin beat a fast retreat,
and through the haze I managed to feel
a deep breath and a steady heart-beat!
When I sat up the sun came through a window
and it fell harmlessly upon my skin,
I felt true hunger, thirty years overdue,
by His power I once more was human!
They said In Him All Things Are Possible,
and I suppose I am the living truth,
strangest of all I still looked a young man,
blessed with the power and passion of youth...
CONCLUDES IN PART IV.
(buzzfeeding, kickstarting, needling darn noggin)
An effort to recall word, phrase,
musician... indigenous tribe...
most frustrating literary
endeavor to das scribe
aggravating enough to sub
bourbon spur teetotaler to imbibe
and/or nsync, whereby soul searching
devil's advocate demands bribe.
Lil brokeback Engelbert Humperdinck
(born Arnold George Dorsey) bent edict coercion
(think sexual mores)
scaring stripes off blushing zebra
bunched unencumbered vice pliable straw
aforementioned pablum admittedly "fake"
birthed within cerebral tenderloin
of impractical joker,
whereby fifty plus shades
of gray matter (mine)
chafed and rubbed raw
prevarication playfully did overdraw
and tax poetic license writ courtesy this paw
poor putz offal declension
sprouted within mum maw
noun tent to verb (bull eyes - red) to draw
flak, but merely to harmlessly entertain
so accept apologies (mine)
verses calling strong (lanced) arm of law.
I (garden variety poetaster) reckon fair game
media personalities grist for rumor mill, though lame
explanation given (funny first and surname)
adopted by supposed "finest middle-of-the-road
balladeers around," who co opted his stage name
from authentic Engelbert Humperdinck; selfsame
prodigy circa 1 September 1854 –
27 September 1921
German composer, who wrote, I gently exclaim
the opera Hansel and Gretel - a Grimm fairytale
actually frightful saga - read countless times
setting me boyhood imagination aflame
with mailer daemons, who haunted dreams
(mine) 'course in retrospect material tame
compared/contrasted with current pandemic
analogous as if mother Earth -
a metaphorical dame
experiencing long overdue reprieve, cuz shame
on *****sapiens belching pollutants
at any price to garner fortune and fame.
Siege warfare (trumpeting)
average joe biden his time
linkedin with aberrant behavior
transpires within me mind,
(not just today December 5th, 2020,
but everyday/365)
warrants depleting stockpile arsenal
constituting exhausting mental health
uprooting deep seated repellent pesky
daunting lost cause.
Overruled by irrational thoughts,
I feebly muster a lame duck
half quacked comeback
(think home team cheering at pep rally)
against analogous figurative agents provocateur
said nemesis bore down hard
upon sense and sense abilities
mine psyche undergoing
blistering, hectoring withering, et cetera
courtesy ghost of Emily Brontë
mailer daemons flitting to and fro,
hither and yon within wuthering heights.
Another necessity Emma gin)
awoke prided prejudice
to confront head on
beastie boy foo fighting (Irish,
no matter genealogy regarding
yours truly Eastern European)
mine talking head housing
private insane asylum.
Incomprehensible thought processes
chronically spin out of control
dictate mandate NOT to wash hair
until at least one week passage of time,
(an arbitrarily chosen number
i.e. seven days convenient block)
even if appearance looks unkempt, slovenly
grungy, et cetera as nirvana seeking guy.
Thus, I readily admit self held hostage,
whereby loopy thought provoking patterns
hopelessly, grimly, futilely find me surrendering
NEVER eradicating down battened ramparts
neurotic, lunatic approved, idiotic
mind mental chattering
babbling jabbering gibberish
housing concocted village people
dead set against shampooing oily locks.
Quite a tussle (think metaphorical hair pulling)
ensues within me scrambled noggin,
whereby pathetic psychotic pummeling
win knows scrimmage
scoring touchdown amidst
teaming muted brouhaha
allowing, enabling, and providing
harmlessly insane nettlesome
pesky skewed notions
ridiculous leeway to predominate
until yours truly USDA
qualified, hashtagged, certified...
as grateful dead among human league.
When I'm outdoors, I'm usually found
walking about staring straight down at the ground,
avoiding eye contact or even ear contact from they who surround me.
I'm not a people person obviously.
If by chance there happens to be a smile on my face,
I'm not really there, I'm in another place,
perhaps reliving a cherished memory
or enjoying the brisk autumn air simply,
but all of that usually comes to a halt very abruptly
whenever I encounter stupidity.
A baby with a baby smacks her baby right in front of me.
Mind your own business Kidster. Walk away. Let it be
was my attitude in the past usually
but such luxuries are now gone. Now I Can't Control Me.
"Witch!" I said aloud to the mommy baby's face
and then like a retard I asked her, "Which is the way out of this place?"
pretending that I was harmlessly mentally ill,
which isn't really much of a stretch for theKidster otherwise known as Bill.
She smiled and pointed me to the exit. I left her with a goofy smile on my face
still pretending to be a retard as I exited out of that place,
and yes I used the term "retard" which isn't politically correct
but I assure you, the retards don't mind. In that area they are truly blessed.
I hope mommy baby whitch will remember that split second
of being called a whitch for smacking her baby previously mentioned,
but more likely it will all too soon be all forgotten
and mommy baby's baby will have a baby when she's just a baby
and the cycle will go on unbroken.
And so this is the game outdoors that I play constantly.
The truly stupid ones always seem to find me
and it's a struggle to deal with them continually.
What's that I hear? Is that the wilderness calling me?
Silence.
For over thirty years he longed for a night free from the snoring that her sinuses caused.
Foolishly, he thought he could sleep much better if the grating sound did not echo in his ears.
Now he lies restlessly, unable to sleep in the silence.
Darkness.
The pillow he often placed over his head to muffle the sounds coming from the other side of
the bed,
Also helped shield his eyes from the glow emitted from the nightlight she could not sleep
without.
Now he lies anxiously in the darkness with the unplugged light laying harmlessly on her bed
stand.
Unencumbered.
His uncontrollable habit of wiggling his foot at night, which helped him fall asleep,
He consciously had been suppressing because the motion bothered her rest.
Now, free to wiggle in the empty bed, he lied motionless, too tired to move.
How he longed to hear the snoring he once thought he detested.
How he wished he could gaze upon the outline of her sleeping body in the shadows cast by
the nightlight.
How he desired to feel her elbow poke him in the side to still his gyrating foot.
The silence; the darkness; the freedom to move;
What he once considered long lost friends were now his enemies.
The sleep lost due to the sounds, the light and the restrictions on movement were a small
price to pay for having her by his side.
Now that he is free to sleep in peace – he cannot.
He misses her too much and the pain in his heart will prevent a restful sleep for a long time
to come.