Long Humpty dumpty Poems
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I also feel blasé today February 19th, 2024
Linkedin to being lax,
and shirking house cleaning tasks,
which negligence cost us
(yours truly and the missus)
a golden opportunity
to relocate to Hillcrest Village
in Boyertown, Pennsylvania
another HUD subsidized property
under the aegis of Grosse and Quade,
one of the larger residential
property management firms
in the Delaware Valley.
Physical unwellness
(insync with racing heart) arose
because Kathleen Bergen
the new property manager
here at 2 Highland Manor
voiced absolute zero positive feedback,
upon taking lock, stock, and barrel
of appalling living conditions,
her blistering vocalization
(from wuthering heights)
translated as a foregone conclusion
against our hopes
pinned on moving into
two bedroom apartment
referenced above topmost lines.
Said plummeted disappointment
(courtesy blunt admission
out the mouth of
(humpty dumpty sat on a wall)
frumpty recent hire
identified in a previous poem
as new warden)
verbosely predicated upon
gross appearance of living space
immediately dashed cautious optimism
citing unkempt state
within no crater than
moonwalking unit b44,
whereby we wished to skadaddle
far away from obligation
to be mindful of rules and regulations
codified within a binding lease.
Unlikely home ownership
will ever come to pass,
nor the lesser prospect
to rent more spacious domicile
larger than a one bedroom apartment,
no bigger than a bread box
den me and the missus,
(a hen pecking spouse)
might befriend Bugs Bunny,
who might guarantee
adequate sized rabbit hole
constituting large enough wonderland
receiving stamp of approval
courtesy Alice in Chains
subsidized lodging money back
plus additional warren tee
granted by Mister Michael Fox,
who took me back to the future,
when the pace of life
plodded along at leisurely rhythm.
Only within outer limits
realm of twilight zone,
where dark shadows
inch along edge of night
(while two thumbs and index finger
belonging to separate good sports
grab hold the furcula
(or wishbone) structure
formed by the ventral fusion
of the right and left clavicles
and the median interclavicle
silently mouth invocation)
holds at bay, the inexplicable phenomena
moored, harbored, and docked
awaiting lucky recipient,
whose merrythought bestowed
upon he/she, they/them.
Most imp potent and salient playbook page...
'bout fluffiness of hair after washing
Now get ready for...
yup intelligent persiflage
determining if potty "talk" gauge
correctly calibrated courtesy this sage.
Beats out global warming
by a long stretch
most important commander
must set example you betch
chore life no matter
if miserable wretch
survives impeachable offenses
enough to make me kvetch,
especially four more years
yours truly will once again become
bulimic anorexic wretch.
Versus important crisis
of planet Earth,
where Gaia's bountiful
nature woolworth
analogous wharf resplendent
docks side of ships berth state
housing electricity generating
mined resources inevitable dearth
warming chill folks
courtesy homey hearth
reminiscent during inchoate
fetal nine months
in utero signaling imminent birth.
Quite understandable reasonable,
non negotiable, inviolable...
blah... blah... blah
scalp itching blather
particularly to prioritize
orange-blond hirsute fullness
upon rinsing sudsy shampoo lather
as expressed by this
post baby boomer
pencil neck geek father,
who attempts to walk poetic feet
across cyber sea
miraculously to slather.
Trademark seedy nonsensical
farcical gobbledygook,
perhaps posthumously printing
bestselling blank paginated chapbook
ghost written by Trump
titled Art of the Steal
detailing head and shoulders how to look
suave and sophisticated all business
swiftly tailored harried style shook
White House disguised himself as rook
key "Fake" incognito president
recruiting apprenticed bartered bride
slow vacuuming trophy wife crook
cow hoard milching, kickstarting,
inciting, generating... donnybrook
coiffing pompadour resembling
forefathers windblown periwig.
Nope not even one hair
mussed out of place,
as if teetering fountainhead
supporting Atlas shrugged
top heavy topples
and crashes scattering
bajillion easy pieces everyplace
analogous to humpty dumpty
each and every last vestige
vanishing without a trace
exiting out cloaca
subsequently intently watching
toilet bowl royally flush
clockwise if within northern hemisphere
heavy enough to sink submarine
haint no reason yours truly might gush
even if abominable ballast
saves queasy passengers
plummeting thru aerospace.
Part 1: The Event
Back in younger age days,
Going to grad school in Boulder, Colo, was no fun,
Lots of course work, research work, little time to socialize,
Professor had to meet his grants timeline,
One nice Saturday morning, a few grad schoolgirls,
Called and invited me to go to Copper mountain ski resort,
How can I resist such a social invitation,
I was ready in the morning dressed up in my winter gears,
We hit the road, within couple of hours, we were at the ski resort,
Went down to rental shop, got fitted with skis and matching boots,
I had not confessed yet to the girls that I was still learning how to ski,
We went up the chairlift, I was helped at the top by attendants to get on my feet,
The girls were good, they took off on their skis down the slope,
I started down slowly on the slopes, till I reached a junction of treks,
I started one way, changed my mind to take another trek,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall, no one dared to lift him up,
I was buried in the snow with face down, till an older gentleman came by,
Turned me around, took my skis off, called the ski patrol,
By the late afternoon, girls came to the clinic looking for me,
Advised me, I should have stayed down, and practiced on beginner’s slopes.
Part 2: The Hindsight and lessons learned
I was on crutches for a month,
The diagnosis of hyperextended ligaments was not true,
I had knee surgery to get back hopping in a few weeks.
The lesson I learned, is never show off, know your limits,
Fun can await on some other day,
There was human temptation at that age,
To impress the girls, maybe make a girlfriend,
One girl would come once in a while,
Bring food and consolation for my well-being,
She gradually disappeared; I was back to work.
Now in hindsight, it was a great lesson learned,
People like the winners, not the losers,
Exceed in your effort, show your talent where you are good,
Research is hard work, like poets writing poems,
With only a few readers and good comments,
I found solace in my effort and kept myself going in life.
Pretend not to be master of all the knowledge needed,
Talk to the juniors and experts, if help is required,
Assuming that you can do it all on your own,
It is inviting trouble to a bright future.
Boyhood was a one-night stand,
So brief and unforgettable,
Full of dreams,
Sweet —like a rooftop party,
Wild and loud,
When the world several feet below,
Full of envy, shouted at us,
“Come down quickly!
Quick!”
Boyhood charmed me and
Did not harm me
It was a different time,
A different boy-game
All was different
Including the falsehood of the time
Fibs were crammed with the essence of joy.
Mawkish, they strengthened the walls of
Defence, by pulse or by slush —
One gave way for the other to flourish.
And I saw things the way they truly were,
Either red or white;
Nothing like reddish-white
Or whitish-red.
Just red or white.
Plain.
Pure and simple.
I didn’t mix colours except when I was painting
With brush and colours on drawing paper
White with the innocence of dawn
Watercolour streamed with tears
Genuinely shed with common bliss.
Our loudest poem was Twinkle,
Twinkle, Little Star
I’ve never ceased to wonder how they twinkled
In the dull eyes of dinosaurs!
And there was Humpty Dumpty,
Our dear friend.
Santa or Father Christmas,
Called and addressed according to your own side of
The pond, possessed the redness that charmed us
And the whiteness that froze us with ecstasy
And with the dynamism of Sunday school songs
Oh, his beard! Mammatus clouds so full and rolling!
The outlines of trees back then resembled the clusters of
Overgrown clouds laughing their senses off
Above us foolish little masquerades
A scene of a flowering act.
With our eyes we saw it all
Just like the serial films we saw —
They all made sense —from Gunsmoke to
Bonanza and Hawaii-50
We saw all with grey, tiny eyes on grainy television
Screens, elevated boxes of palatial balls
Those days smelled differently —
With the fragrance of natural love
And the beats of honourable music
And we scribbled figures of maths on
Each other’s back, symbols of agricultural tools.
Oh, the arrangements of the planets,
Beginning with Earth,
Our darling Earth,
Since charity must commence at home.
Politics was far from us
So was double entendre . . .
A one-off incident,
Boyhood is a museum —
You take nothing with you while
Exiting it.
I drive back to it only on the reference gear.
Hey I'll travel into that computer the one that sees everything..' I will get to know even
more about what's going on in this place..! Ohhh..' there's lots of pulses in here, I think
I shall travel down that hook up there right to where it ends, and see what I find..' OH..I
I can see lots, lots of people on a green bank a big river.. And a quiet reflective feeling all
round, hey they are holding eggs lots of them..' and that youngish man there what's he
saying? hey that's better the volume just went up. It seems...as if.. Yes I am in a camera
lens..' Oh he's speaking again..' So a man of the Pharisees: Nicodemus..' came to Jesus
by night, Rabbi he said we know you were sent by God because no Man could do the signs
you do unless God were with him..' I tell you truly Jesus replied no one can see the kingdom
of God unless he is 'born again' how do you mean teacher Nicodemus questioned.? how can a person be born again?
In this world? Surely one cannot re-enter into their Mother to be born and by now being old..'
Jesus then answered again saying unless a person is born of water and the spirit he cannot
enter the Kingdom of God..! the young man seemed most ernest in his manner, the people
listened intently..' he put down a book? Bible Dumpty could read as he peered closer that he had been quoting from; and held up a large egg..' and said today we celebrate Easter this egg symbolises
the 'new life' you can have in Christ..' This is the time he laid down his earthly life in order
that we can live eternally in heaven with Him..! Dumpty felt full of emotion at these words.'
the symbolism of the egg especially moved him, he thought of 'being born again' of being
'Humpty Dumpty' once more..' as he watched a lot of the people went forward to the man..Saying we will accept him Joe.' So they must know this man Dumpty reasoned' This seemed to really please Joe!
and so they accepted this 'Jesus' still others went into the water and another man plunged them
deep under..' then he raised them up to cheers from all, Dumpty saw all this with
mixed up feelings..'
He thought he had best go back to the Owl; and enquire more about
these things..'
Before Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Before Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
Before all concerned attempted to fix him
Before they all failed to make him great again
He was first an exported idea from the old country
Such an idea was anathema where Humpty was from
So Humpty succeeded far above and beyond expectation
In reality, Humpty was an idea whose time had come and
no one, but no one could stop Humpty from being the greatest
because he was, in essence, a great gift to a world of power mongers
So Humpty crossed the high seas and beat a trail through high weeds
He eventually explored and fought his way west from sea to shining sea
Similar to the Great Alexander, he conquered until there was nothing more
to conquer except the great outer space where he dreamed of living someday
But time was running out on Humpty and his people grew restless and self-centered. Having grown weary of lofty and noble pursuits, his countrymen eventually rebelled and turned against Humpty, against traditional values, against the Church, and even against the God of their fathers. He was stripped of his constitutional rights and sentenced to live out the rest of
his days sitting on a high wall on which there leaned a broken cross painted red, white, and blue. Humpty's family and friends were forced to move away, leaving him all alone and surrounded by foes, fools, and pleasure seekers. Puzzled, weak, feeble, and fainted, Humpty finally fell off the celebrated wall to
his death. After Humpty's death, it seems that the masses all of a sudden saw a great light that arrested and captured them because their hearts were broken over the demise of Humpty. They prayed and labored feverously to restore Humpty to life again but to no avail. Humpty was gone. It was too late. In Humpty Dumpty they had what the whole world longed for, but they gave it all up for a 'mess of pottage' (pride, pleasure, greed, indifference.........)* Sometimes it's too late to acknowledge that which we once ignored.
06242018PoetrySoupContest, The Mystery of Humpty Dumpty, Faraz Ajmal 3P, *Genesis 25:29-34
You don't see what I see.
You don't feel what I feel.
The truth is quite evident,
It's not concealed. The
Burdens you have are
Not light. Your own battles
You're trying to fight. You
Will be brutalized until you
Won't make a sound all
Because you refused to
Leave town and you continue
To clown around. On your
Menu, there is a three course
Meal, first of lies, of profane
Speech then you getting beat
Into a shameful defeat all
Because you refused to
Answer the call. Tonight
You'll go down for the ultimate
Fall. Like" Humpty Dumpty
Sat on the wall, Humpty
Dumpty had a great fall
All the king's horses and
All the king's men couldn't
Put Humpty back together
Again. It will be Rotten Rodney
Stood on the block,Rotten
Rodney ran his mouth
Nonstop, Rotten Rodney
Saw a gun cocked, and
Then his jaws locked,
But it was too late to stop,
Rotten Rodney got thrown
In a luxury car headed
To South BR, with mouth
Taped and arms roped
Together. The change
In weather begins:
It goes to raining cats
And dogs from sprinkling.
They throw you out
Of the car in a secluded
Area and start beating
You like a thug beats
Pussy until you scream
Louder than a multi-
Orgasmic ho and twitch
Around on the natures
Moist muddy floor, and you
Beg for them not the beat
You no more unlike the ho.
Rotten Rodney rolls down,
A steep hill as boulders,
Bang his head and he's,
Literally dead. The gang
Of about ten dudes don't
Feel that it is enough
Bruises or blues for the
Wannabe OG so they
Begin taking turns
Stomping him, blowing
The scent of pine on
His wounds, pouring
Liquor on him, pissing,
And pooing on him.
Firing a gun near his
Legs so a series of
Bullets ring through
So he won't be able
To move and groove
Back in the duffy city
Of BR. They load him
In the trunk of the
Luxury car to dump
Him in a ditch near
Gardere another
Rough part of town
That is how you
Rotten Rodney
Tonight go down.
12-29-10
Form:
You refuse, refusing the salvant call,
laying there in fetal position,
enthralled by my hex of vinegar and scrawl of liquids release that just seem to pour out of me organically.
Hissing in Wormwood's frequency dwelling, Hollywood "your signature home" learning-annex-auxilliary.
My park and recreation facility.
Reserved, this space taken.
A dump, next to unopened salve
and not knowing your own, side-bar-by-law$.
An unlived, contrived existence, of litigation before dawn.
So shine on, shine on,
Dear: ) (Newton Star blink out before the gravity of
persistence, taken aside, the watchtower of your keen eyed media straddle, beacons a distress
call, to your final hour.
The time your nightwatch is voyeur
procured.
Humpty Dumpty asses with sulphur in their saltwatering laffy Taffy maws, fixed, agape, ajar."Give me some sugar baby."
Jezebellians, you shunned, the truth, when it was audio visually- bore.
Gored yourself on the posts of a grinding of mandibles and dripping blood upon the crucible stone and forbidden bindings.
No white night when a guiding light
doth shine on dead eyes.
No silver linings filling those cavities.
Only self, depravity.
Will be mouthed from the still-shine forever moored.
Uttered where windmills churn electro
Codes of algo-executionary tables
to turn.
Churning the butter of temptation
with pouting maid determination.
Mitigated, my starlings it is for,
the ungrateful scored.
Cookie cutter milkmaids of
factorized words.
Music for Nations.
A union of the snake said Plato.
Fall from the night.
As an Nova of unbeknownst, essence,
implode yourself of something more,
lost in the mire of the ignorance of indifference, onloaded to fill an emptiness void of frivolous showroom and commercials shined core.
Enjoy the aftermath in my garden.
Take another bite of my lore.
Rise, a new creation, in new age culturism,
the retro- reel of Humanism, of illusionary-fusion of pride and behind the scenes thrones.
Slavery algorithms,
my Holograms of flesh and Bones.
Burning out on the Threshing floor.
Writing my first Sonnet was like a pregnancy.
I knew I wanted to give birth to one
and took on the parental responsibility
knowing it wouldn't... or shouldn't take nine months.
There'd been no morning sickness nausea
but there were times when I wanted to change my mind.
"Too bad, kiddo," I thought. "You gotta see this through.
because you can't put Humpty Dumpty back inside his egg
once the shell has cracked and broken."
Determined not to have yet another unfinished poem
take up space in a notebook, I persevered
spoiling myself with ice cream, chocolate fudge slivers,
a few cherries, and a liberal squirt of caramel sauce.
I indulged myself with a reward after the first verse.
I've never liked dill pickles, so when I couldn't find
the right rhyming word for verse two, I didn't eat those.
Pregnancy or not, I wasn't going to suffer puckered lips
because my muse refused to be pregnant with me.
She'd have made a useless midwife anyway.
Said she'd be back when she got a birth announcement.
I suffered alone and pushed this baby out
with the same force a laborious woman uses to birth a child.
No epidural in the spine, although I did partake
in a bottle of wine during the entire nascence process.
"LOOK," I screamed. "After fourteen hours of labor
it's an eight-pound boy."
Actually, it was more like eight hours of labor
to deliver a fourteen-line Sonnet, and lots of anxiety.
I took comfort knowing this baby wouldn't need breast feeding.
Now that it's here, it will be reread a time or ten...
a line edited here or a tweak somewhere.
It will be mollycoddled, burped, and pampered
but not with the naked butt baby kind.
I'll sing it to sleep when I'm the one needing a lullaby,
and I'll be glad it doesn't cry for a two am bottle.
I won't worry about it getting sick or growing up too quickly
because ten years from now it'll still be my baby.
Birthing a child is difficult work but we both survived the labor.
and my firstborn is not crumpled in a basket, lying on the floor.
dialog with myself invariably involves others
we are all perceivers nobody escapes
no really and truly trust me on this
no manufacturing of childish evasions
maybe it is best to be born into a family
with family values
ablaze with comfort and sanitation
lost in a forest of memories
amusingly arrayed for shoppers
exactly like the TV version
fortunately I was in touch
with my inner juvenile delinquent
unlettered by any known normalcy
nor crazed by the expectation of gold
or even gold paint from a rattle can
our addiction to pleasure
is no Darwinian accident
we really do learn to act from movies
no really and truly trust me on this
our tune is a complicated little number
in several keys at once
upon your mother's pedestal is one
between cognition and reflex is another
in the keyhole universe
location location location
I may need an axe to free my thoughts
just so I can play dumb
when you know too much
you go for the guts
in a trail blazing effort to avoid
media suppression by the CIA
Clairvoyant Intelligence Agency
chronically in for interrogation
OK let's play who's more paranoid
if this poem is minus the above line
then it has been tampered with
754 million hand sewn Humpty Dumpty
nerve connections later
sutured like Frankenstein's test dummy
a bungee cord full of existential tension
I seem to be strapped to a microscope
plunging to new vistas and panoramas
recoil in horror from what you were
behavior can also be modified
by better info if you let it
how's that for mind warfare
pretty propaganda pretty pretty
for the young and the innocent
left screaming in a gas station toilet
wrapped in today's newspaper
comics section puzzle page
how long can the charade continue
when autonomous is still an illegal word
this is an audience participation piece
from the Federal Pencil Council
and for the terminally nostalgic
the night arched quietly above
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/