Long Homegrown Poems
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Impossible mission, nonetheless
eschatological, diabolical, critical...
dire straits betokens armageddon.
Come Tuesday, November 3, 2020
mandatory voting obligation to oust
horrible malevolent commander in chief.
Spanish and English writing on border wall
bespeaks impending apocalyptic windfall
weapons of mass destruction concomitant ashfall
brinkmanship ticks doomsday clock, hence the call
muster civilians and military troops coup to marshall
tuckered bands overthrowing pathological
megalomaniac haint your
homegrown garden variety apprenticed screwball,
Née commandeer of human abuses free world oh God
this exclamation ejaculated yours truly house atheist
runs ruinously, reprehensibly, rampantly roughshod
scaring out bejesus within winkin blinkin and nod
land of powdermilk biscuits and raw bits promises
to become ground zero predicated boneheaded clod.
Atrocious, cantankerous, egregious,
grievous, ignominious... dispensing
most every venerated, ushered, touted,
sacred, revered, pronouncing
progressive amendments dead
on arrival blithely shredding to tatters
hard won reforms since Fred
Flintstone days of yore shelving
codied, ratified, sanctified... shed
jeweled important legislation,
plus Russian musk cows to wed
Putin on the ritz.
Blasphemous, cantankerous, deleterious...
execrable folly... doth seed
subsequently begetting and breed
anarchy, chaos, hell, plus helps
foment pernicious, ominous,
noxious, malodorous... misdeed
pitting one against another creed
internecine warfare, where liveried
troops don and trumpet
(auld) alternative energy
fighting gear powering, i.e. ac/dc freed
one or more dirty deed
done dirt cheap reducing at lightspeed,
the hard fought/won democratic
inalienable rights purportedly guaranteed
by United States constitution,
(though oft times bias, i.e. reed
anti semitism, charade, facade...) heed
trample equality, morality, universality...
making mockery (attested bleed
courtesy flagrant historical extant bigotry,
chicanery, depravity... greed).
Hence, I step off figurative soapbox
dodging any lobbed missiles or rocks
no surprise bullied by same jocks,
who tormented me during high school
probably tattooed, pierced, and bald of locks
unlike yours truly, he sports self
as aging pencil neck geek
wearing non matching shoes and socks.
This Citizen Banker
safely in his compound doth attest,
sans donning his typical
gabbling and trumpeting ways,
while legally tendered,
currently being cents
less lee swept away
soul fully - bellow
wing from my chest
(with fortissimo, the
whirling wide webbed
watery tidal swells
rivaling the peak
of Mount Everest)
reef furring to being
nearly reduced to poverty
hence, essentially buck
king the tide while washed out -
since day short and dollar late
circumstances force me
to cash worthless buffalo chips
astutely as you correctly guessed
from deep pull horrible
United States economic situation,
where option non
existent against invest
ting, nesting, and squirreling
financial resources jest
accessible for wealthy people
to sync investment portfolios
region of popular tax haven,
viz Cayman Islands lest
hefty costs accrue
keeping scrupulously stashed re:
sources untouchable,
where Uncle Sam canst
access ex cell lent
healthy maturing outlook
king monies, and understandable
at rage against the machine
if rainy day funds messed
up, but solvent versus
debts drowning oneself
unable to stay afloat,
where declaring Chapter 7 bankruptcy
doomed to bobbing
within a sinking boat,
and where pointless
to pull out all the whistle stops
including abandoning resorting
to heroic measures
while additionally futile
to shed tears and emote
only kidding self to seek out goat
tam ma Buddha, nor will
I resort to gofundme
(cuz ma last name NOT Kardashian),
but matter of fact lee
roll with the figurative punches
feigning tubby Jew Dee
or an incarnation
of Muhammad Ali
during his ready for prime time Box
sing rebellious jabbering
left fist out fox
sing prize fighter un
defeated champ with mox
see, his champion modesty
oozed muscles like rocks,
a bankable one man
Gibraltar with precious
mettle to the core,
not wanting with his pugilistic,
yet homegrown genteel
ringing true mark
solid core state athletically valued
bankable bonded stocks.
Anchors Aweigh...
destination unknown
for this Earthling
stardate: February 26th, 2022
At sea since time immemorial
I relish being alone
upon oceanic expanse
yours truly doth bemoan
me gal Sal (one among
numerous female confidantes),
no matter, she easily
mistaken as a crone
magical powers keep
her manning far aloft drone
as surveillance hovers above me
(to intercept encrypted
communication maintained
courtesy bluetooth earphone)
the two of us sol survivors
I feel like a foreigner since
global thermonuclear war
bombed webbed wide world
into pulverized power
vaguely similar landscape
to age of Fred Flintstone
and Barney Rubble
recurring memories redolent
of yesteryear, whereby I groan
though simple living
such as me and the missus
did Potschke coaxing homegrown
organic fruits and vegetables,
though, I attest we did
get violently angry with each other
and unwittingly cross interzone
where brickbats exchanged,
especially after she discovered
an illicit extramarital affair
between myself and Joan
since kindergarten her I known.
Weather beaten cap'n,
and watertight bewitched craft
time tested since maiden voyage
(circumnavigating the globe
back in the day of my youth),
I ranked tough as a pitbull,
when severely pitted
against raw elements
of swiftly tailored,
harried stylish nature
against leathery faced
reptilian skin, hard drinking
(actually as corked
poetic convenience - vermouth
arbitrary bottle of choice
if for no other reason,
than to rhyme
with the above line),
and tobacco spitting, while
colorfully swearing as an uncouth
Furies (of Agamemnon)
fighting (tooth
and nail) Pirate,
where rickets, scurvy,
and thrice unconscious,
currently ample proof
could not forsooth
bring me to Davy Jones's locker,
cuz I never wanna
get relegated to an underwater
whale schooled booth,
this raconteur can nonchalantly,
glibly, and blithely attest,
with braggadocio, despite
no warm welcome will
ever greet mine tinnitus
pained ears, I can plainly
imagine acrimonious retort
upon me behest
his far more'n lifetime
bobbing (like a sponge)
square pants float
buoyed atop crest longing e'en for
(carping, caviling, hen pecking,
or shrewish) wife.
I am a homegrown girl but I have traveled to many places around the world. I am a home-grown girl and you can find me on the map with just a single dot. I am a home-grown girl in search of my permanent soul.
I love variety, I value diversity and I cherish honesty. I have an invisible soulmate but we have never gone out on a date, I love it from the depths of my heart and I would do anything for its career to take off. I want its dreams to come true because I don’t have much ambition to parachute to the sky. I am just a home-grown girl with a deep message bubbling up in my soul.
If you look into my heart, you will understand where it starts; my heart has two ventricles, one on the right and the other on the left and they pump blood into my body that keeps me alive and put my adrenalin on a ride.
I can cook a fifty-course meal in one day, and I would still have energy to cook a pot of curry and invite Hallie J, Sarah M and Jane S for dinner and still find time to shoot the next scene after supper.
My brain is wired in a special way and for this reason I will never go astray. My brain has a left side and right side too, from which that miracle always comes through and, it has never deserted me and you.
The ventricles in my heart sometimes collide and sometimes I have to go on a short trip to examine what’s in the precipice. The left ventricle wall is the thickest heart walls and absolutely nothing can pass through if destiny binds me and you.
Sometimes I stare at the wall and wonder where to start. Is it at the Texas border or the Great Wall of China? My heart has a three-layered heart wall made of connective tissue, endothelium, and cardiac muscle but layer one and two cannot function, if the muscular middle layer myocardium doesn’t function. It enables the heart to contract so pay careful attention to what the heart is saying to you.
I am a home-grown girl but my Turf is not here, it belongs to the rest of the world. It lies beyond the horizon in the quiet hills of demparades, a town full of beautiful people from all color race and creed they speak different languages from every nation. I am a home-grown girl and now it's time for me to face the world.
You didn't roll a wagon up to bring an apple pie.
The neighbors haven't come from miles to raise a barn up to the sky.
We didn't have to ring a bell to call your buckets to a fire,
'Cause when we had three surgeries, our hearts you did inspire.
Big homegrown chickens delivered in vans
And well tended veggies from your very own hands.
You spread your wealth with lots of love,
Always showing to our hearts the spirit of the dove.
The girls' Christmas dresses you made meant so much.
Our year was filled with your own special touch.
You handled, and cradled and poslished our kids.
Reflecting to them that their precious and His.
When that very last cent just couldn't be found,
You quietly gave and got us around.
Your cars, your time, your patience and laughter,
Have hellped us stay focused on what God is after.
He loves us and wants us to always draw near
And just like real families keep "bending" His ear.
Keep telling our heartaches and singing our joys.
Keep giggling and playing like small girls and boys.
We need to snuggle up close and hear His heartbeat,
So we can help those who live in hurt and defeat.
It is to God's family they need to belong.
For only in Him can the weak be made strong.
For those who are sensible and those who are "not so"
God keeps on reminding us - we've not far to go.
So "press toward the mark" are the words i our ear.
Don't turn to the left, or the right, and don't fear.
Jesus is all that we ever will need.
But here is the message He wants us to heed.
It's "us" and it's "we" - blood bought and in Him;
It's sticking together through thick and through thin
We are His children, His friends and His Bride.
We stand and we wait, and by faith abide.
Always, forever, His glory's inside.
We are His Body; We can't be denied.
Although we are grownup, He wants us to be
Trusting and confident, knowing we're free.
He'll carry it all; both our burdens and us,
And longs, most of all, that we never be anxious.
He is our King; yet He's Daddy, friend too.
He made us; died for us; and will see us through.
Because of this promise and His love in you,
We are established, remain steadfast, and true.
For years, those homegrown scents have been stuck in my head. It's mother's home-grown and freshly cooked mustard and turnip greens. Neither jiffy mix nor Marie Callendar, but it was mama's own homemade bread. That sweet aroma of blackberry, peach, or apple pie was a little boy's dream.
I cannot forget those awesome smells after school of a pot of pinto beans.
I smell the smoke from the pits of daddy's homemade drill. I hear the sound of a handy device made for parching peanuts. Daddy is barbecuing burgers and ribs from a very recent pig kill. For years, those aromas arrested and captivated everyone of us.
And everybody in the community thought that daddy's meat was a must
My Multi-tasking mom cooked, washed cloths, and listened to a pastor preach. Smells of cloths being washed and dried out back by the sun are unforgettable. Mama always used tide or cheer for laundry, and Clorox was her only bleach.
My wife often speaks of how mother's homemade corn bread was irresistible. The aroma of grandma's coffee and mama's fried chicken? Most memorable.
02252018 PS Contest, The Scents of Baking Bread......, Sara Kendrick English Quintain, ababb, 3 stanzas; HM
One of the joys of summer are lightning bugs.Do you remember, as a child, chasing them on a balmy evening? They are so elusive. When you see one in front of you and go to catch it, it would be gone; only to blink just a foot or so away from you. Carefully we would put some in a jar with holes poked into the lid for air. Then we would watch them light up. Never leave them in the jar very long, or they will die.
Nature’s bounty is showing in the colorful blooming meadows.Grasses and wild flowers are a riot of color; there are Daisies, Yarrow, blue Chicory and black eyed Susans displaying their charms.It seems impossible to remember that the mere beginnings of all this abundance was only a few months ago.
July days are full and long. The water in the creek flows lazily, just like the cottony clouds that glide across the blue sky. Milkweeds, Honeysuckle and Hay scent the air. Hay has such an incomparable scent.It brings back visions of climbing up into the hayloft as a child. Playing in the hay, tunneling through it, finding “Daddy Long legs’” and the kittens that the barn cat hid there.
Blackberries are ripening in the berry patch For a time we did a lot of picking. We enjoyed many delicacies that we could prepare with them. Pies, cobblers, and cakes as well a s jams, juices and wine. Going to the berry patch was a welcome, relaxing activity after work. Most of the time it would be very hot there. Occasionally a snake would be sleeping on a branch nearby, causing me to move on slowly. I would stomp my feet, hoping they would move out of my way. Bugs and mosquitoes would buzz all around us.
Summertime is full of joy.The sounds of crickets and cicadas are the music of summer. There are baby animals., tottering around, growing up, discovering. Flowers gladden our hearts with their beauty. We swim in pools, ponds and creeks to cool off and refresh us. We can pick homegrown fruits and vegetables for our table.
And there is the toddler following a butterfly, calling: “Wait for me butterfly, come back here! You are going too fast!”
Can't seem to get ahead
Sometimes I don't want to even get out of my bed.
Hard surviving these days
Promising to change my ways
Slowly making my way from here to there
Do I even care
I don't even know
Where it is I'm supposed to go
Which way I should be going
No way of knowing
There are no signs pointing my way
No person that will say
That is the way to your tomorrow
Their opinion I did not even borrow
Searching for this land of no sorrow
Always pointing me in the wrong way
Sometimes unsure, so in place I stay
Trying to rise above the average normalcy
That is everywhere I see
Whom amongst us are truly free
From promises of a better future for all
Build that wall
Stacking broken words that are bound to fall
Just eave me alone
My heart's not made of stone
Just speak to us clear
Don't get us lost in fear
I need to be shown
My heart is homegrown
Clear my way
To a better day
Clear my path from the confusion
Left in a delusion
That all of this is okay
Are we better off today
Have we lost our way.
What does that even mean
That remains unseen
Words meant to confuse
Makes it hard to choose
What is wrong what is right
Lost to the night
As our world comes crashing down
In hate it seems to drown
Their hate pulls into the lead
Making the world bleed
Lead or get out of the way
Who is here to stay
Where are we going
Is anyone even in the knowing
The pressure is growing
Step back
Hate is on the attack
The cork is about to blow
I have no wish to see that show
Lost our way
Are we here to stay
Hope not
Cause here we may rot
To the point of no return
Is this the future that we did earn
Dim as night
This can't be right
Is there even a cure
For a tomorrow that is so unsure
Close my eyes
Only time flies
Step into the unknown
Faith has shown
Stand tall
Don't become part of the wall
Sooner or later it will fall
Close your eyes
Forget the lies
Let your heart lead your way
Pride
Lied
To yourself be true
Is the sky really blue
Guess that is up to you
Lovingly lauded.. they marauded.. rightly applauded
Saffa gaffers did thrill
Willow wielding wizards of Oz
Yielding…lampooned..marooned..jaffas
Festooned spill just like Seville .
Must remember..the ember burning
Yearning of Temba Bavuma
Kept his sense of humour
Despite being the victim of flimsy whimsy
Many a nasty rumour
I implore you to ignore the tumour
That is Michael Vaughan…dim..grim
Pompous pig or obnoxious prig
Having a dig..more clickbait hate p**n
Unsung and hamstrung..stoic heroic
Temba has brung salvation for a nation
With no Cronje bung..
The only stifling snub
Hell bent pundits in pulpits scream
Not just trifling .. no defending the Saffa culprits
Blunder of sending a sub par side
Alright trite s**e team down under..
Only one man stood sentry…Aidan Markram..often ignored..
Even deplored…a national pastime…his crime
Not being as sublime as in his teenage prime
But such touch..much gumption & grit
Did his bit…hit a century
Sod the rest…now a cricketing god
Against the odds.. has always saved
His Test best for the Aussie conquest..
No longer a sinner…the match winner..
Only one other Saffa..biff Smith’s
Scored more second innings tons..
They did vanquish their perpetual anguish
Their hullabaloo..voodoo..ending
The choke complex.. the hex hoodoo..
No longer Bill Murray day of the groundhog
Finally went the way of the underdog..
So Aidan and Temba we will always remember when
You gave South African Cricket their own
Homegrown ticket to the 25th of December..
Has been glummer.. Gory…still got the bummer
Of no tests in their upcoming home summer
But this a story of glory
Not being woke…not about race
The colour of his face
In history Temba Bavuma with such grace
The best ever test run chase at Lords
Nabbed his place…as the bespoke bloke & ace
Who broke the finals choke & grabbed the golden mace..
It is not necessarily established as True
that all capitalist
and patriarchal red roads
lead back to EmpireBuilding Rome
Ancient Rome as original win/lose supremacist Home
unveils no more than an intuitive health preference
for global eco-political win/win consciousness
as both ecologically True progress
way to restore home
and Beauty's economic co-redeeming GreenWealth
of peaceful bell-curved
syncopating bicameral heart-beat
within healthy co-regenerative process home
In patriarchal survivalist competing climax
and in matriarchal thrivalist cooperative rest
and mostly in-between
with some middle mediating multicultural class
and polycultural healthy sass,
impassioned compassionate
ego/eco-nonviolent
win/win ecopolitically co-impassioned conversations,
history enculturing intelligent process
depicting depolarizing both/and
healthy progressive red through green
democracy roads
lead to EarthMother Home
In local communities
with cooperatively mentored hands
on both up and down hill
thrive and survive bilateral pulses,
best day ecological green commitments
and worst red days of egocentric challenges
Inviting further journeys back
through cooperative communication histories
concerning transubstantiated ecopolitical Trust
that all cooperative
and ecofeminist creolizing tidal rivers
ebb and swell
re-connecting secular/sacred
healthy seasoned HomeGrown
green wealth
Is cooperative
co-passionate Red/Green multi-paths
refined in disciplined Beauty
through all co-invested and matriarchally creolizing seasons
leading back and forth
in surfing green ecofeminist win/win Wombs
progressing
empowering
enlightening
communing
sacramenting
re-connecting
re-ligioning
Earth HealthyHome
Green integrity outdoor shines
enlightening transparent, red historic
inside hoarding, empirically specialized
military-industrialized vulnerable powers
of economic red-cultural privilege.