Long Hunkering Poems
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June nineteenth one hundred and fifty years ago
Juneteenth hint: three hundred
and sixty six days
after eighteen sixty four.
Major General Gordon Granger
led the Union Soldiers to Galveston, Texas,
to announce the end of the Civil war
and the freedom of all enslaved people.
Jim Crow sat perched
over the event horizon
waiting in the wings,
which brought darkened
(non-sheltering) skies
not only for the hot pocket
of suddenly emancipated
persons of color,
who would subsequently experience
immense prejudice
upon their embarkation
as (no pun intended)
"masters" of their own selves
while attempting to eke out a living
dirt poor, yet resourceful
hunkering down on plantations,
which property eminent domain
of federal government,
(a political entity
characterized by union
of partially self-governing provinces,
states, or other regions),
whereby said body electric
codified, fortified, and indemnified
manifest destiny, a phrase
coined in 1845, the idea
that United States destined—
by God advocates believed—
to expand its dominion
and spread democracy and capitalism
across the entire North American continent.
Though institution of slavery
supposedly rendered null and void
at the stroke of a pen
(courtesy Abraham Lincoln)
well actual legislation
passed by Congress on January 31, 1865,
and ratified on December 6, 1865,
the 13th Amendment abolished slavery
in the United States.
Nevertheless merciless abuse
heaped upon the *****
despite their legal status
being Granted leeway
to persevere life, liberty
and pursuit of happiness.
Recognition as equal brethren
among collective soul of American
fraught with bitter aversion,
condemnation, and ejaculation
of physical and verbal violence
against people of color,
whose melanin enriched complexion
birthrights rendered hidebound
severely limited
inalienable rights as declared
in Declaration of Independence,
now still utter abhorrence
regarding treatment
of those proud enterprising people,
whose once storied
African past left in tatters
leaving sparse threads
woven together by diligent dogged research
nsync with twenty first century technology
to allow, enable and provide opportunity
to stitch together a more complete tapestry
and spiritual fusion with shackled ancestors.
No sooner than we set foot within said domicile
attestation to so called gentleman’s’ agreement with guile
initially infrequently, but incessantly as time elapsed Isle
never forget (nor will spouse forgive) with rancor and rile
ceaselessly besieging, bruiting bare-knuckle skirmishes
for us to remove ourselves and personal belonging with vile
lent vitriolic wrath from the day we decamped
within hoity -toity Mainline –
our matted unwelcome would endure for quite a white.
* I * S * I * N * G
With hindsight and accumulative less cloudy fifty shades of gray,
an irrevocable clear er voyance viz summoning forth would lay
an irreconcilable rift (rivaling the Mariana), and constant nay
saying presaged an emotional price to pay
whereat we deterred sale of vintage crystal balls – our stay
purported prevented sale of precious heirlooms – oye vay
in tandem to estate sale divvied up, cuz we whar in the way.
* I * S * I * N * G
Analogous to Little Red Riding Hood, we could not see
blitzkrieg, cannonading, incessant strafe carpet bombing re:
bloody onslaught from the generation of elder vipers que
endured feeling trapped by memorabilia meant nothing to me
* I * S * I * N * G
Warfare found us hunkering down within said tract housing unit,
a fusillade fired off re: porting volleys of character assassination
bombarded this unfortunate civilian clearly implicated to whit
for being a non jewish schlemiel inducing endless economic
denigrating calumniations – fulminating against this “twit”
we decried wicked, vicious, unwarranted abuse would not quit
with no defense against slings and arrows, a plague round
of ceaseless, ferocious, and insidious pilloried that pit
pendulous injustices for each of our **** (emphatic branding
per diem me own scrawny gluteus maximus to git
the hell out – eventually hiring a lawyer with eviction edict!
Form:
The biscuit is sitting on the plate waiting for a humongous date; the sardine is screaming in the can while she waits for the unfaithful man.
He is out dining and casting lot with a dollar fifty and his head wrapped up in a frock with beads in sheet and two dozen shilling wrapped around his feet.
I cannot remember the last time I saw such a fleet, hundreds of cars lined up one behind the other driving down the street and curious onlookers meandering around the corner leaning on the big boat that sits proudly in the middle of the street, with heat hunkering down at a hundred degree Fahrenheit.
The crowd began to swell and the people began to inhale a peculiar smell; the procession moves slowly through the street and I could feel my heartbeat drumming from a distance.
There was no sign of mourning yet the mood was somber, there was no sign of celebration yet the faces were restrained; there was no sign of happiness yet the emotions were subdued and so the minstrel took over from the stony heart beat and people began to scream and shout in the middle of the street and the procession drag along.
And somewhere in the dark hallway of parliament I can hear shouting and chatter, men and women in sharp attire crowd the rotunda with swollen faces and blistered lips. On the other side men without portfolio linger between the columns looking for votes that they will never have while the bid for speakership comes to a standstill and the man in the middle keep going around in circle and fail to the saddle horse.
The rowdy crowd watches with curiosity and trembling lips dripping with profound words cut through the heart ripping up the defiant men standing in the corner. They stood there all day wringing their hands and breaking their fingers and at the last minute a speaker could not be found and destiny had them bound. At last the casket reached the middle of the town and all the people gather around and Pallbearer hoist the casket and walked slowly and place it in the rotunda and so his ambition was backed up into a corner.
Can You Please Wait A Second...?
In steed of ye
mounting your stock
key high horse,
perhaps named Rock
Key, and head off...lock
stock and barrel,
who knows where,
now lemme seat chew wait
ma self, and quickly knock
out quick mention about
hour (meaning everybody
within the wide world),
and their webbed
warp and woof weave
courtesy of Father Time
analogously to a jock
key hunkering down
aiming tubby first
crossing finish line
at races, afterwards celebrate
with social feted outing, while
scheduling proctologist appointment,
et cetera, sans squeezing
late radio talk ad hoc
meeting, an
extemporaneous yet timely
lesson indirectly related
to bird dogging, i.e. migrating
fast as Glock
pistol can shoot, essentially
sound (garden) resembling
joyus honking flock
of seagulls heading
Southside Johnny
and Asbury Jukes,
and on Tortoise -
to sea dock
side of the moon
Pink Floyd attired as Teenage
Mutant Ninja Turtle,
whose schedule Nsync
with YES men hosting
showtime merely minutes away...
remember ring that char existence
enslaved to thee a bomb
been nibble atomic clock,
which device uses an electron
transition frequency went
sallying forth in
the microwave tent,
experiencing optical radiation pent
up ether, or ultra
violet region meant
for electromagnetic fervent
active spectrum, or Palestra event
of atoms comprising
Adam and the Ants
(as well all other matter)
linkedin to frequency standard for
timekeeping Strunk and White
element of style.
I feel my muscles
cord up with tension ,
can almost hear them creak
in the strain.
Lumbering over
I lean in close,
he seems
on the verge of passing out
face white as paste
and he flinches as my breath
smacks him in the face.
I reach down
and shove a claw
into his right leg,
that gets his blood flowing again
and his scream intoxifies me,
I snap my teeth
into his shoulder
and fling him against the wall.
He hit the floor
and I leap upon him,
sinking in my claws,
locking his corpse beneath me.
Lashing at him
with my paws
I dig into his chest
tearing away
the flesh
and snapping
the ribs like twigs…….
I pause…
to watch the heart
throb and convulse.
Blood dripping
from my now matted fur
I begin
by biting off his right arm
then grabbing hold
of the wrist
I tear off the bicep
with my jaws
mashing it with my molars,
and as it slides
down my throat,
Always watching
his expression,
I shiver.
With heart rate speeding
I rip away
the chunky part
of the right thigh,
pin it to the floor
then devour it
resting my torso
upon his.
I eat
into the left leg
hunkering down,
guarding my prey,
there is so much blood
I can feel the hair
on my snout
weighed down
like when you walk
in a heavy rain.
I stop long after
the heart
became still,
push my bloated body
off the remains
and lope away,
almost drunkenly.
And if
there was some one there,
they’d see
the grin of satisfaction
upon my face,
and me
licking the juicy chunks
from my snout
as I depart.
Stark realization, I harbor sacrilegious objection...
Against merry christmas premature blowout,
(or otherwise) ejaculation galore burnout,
hence I feel like the odd man out
neither yours truly, nor the missus
spends money and/or
time at checkout
avoid madding crowds like the plague
elbowing, hustling, jostling,
pushing, racing, shoving...
seconds before blue
light special closeout,
though neither of us
reformed practicing Jews, nor devout
mass consumerism capitalistic fallout,
we steer clear taking refuge within
our underground (arched)
all in the family bunker hideout
remain hermetically sealed
courtesy NASA tested grout
hunkering inside spatially
roomy subterranean getaway
created viz 3d printing
immediately after rollout
ready to take nesty plunge
steeply, perpendicularly, giddily... south
to go down rabbit hole,
where we carouse, cavort,
thermally heated cavernous redoubt
reaping efforts after donning
(MAGA) hardhats constructing roustabout,
whereby protruding innocuous periscope
allows, enables, and provides
mean ways to scout,
since Marshall Mathers Law
declared, mandated trumpeted
courtesy special ops stakeout
regarding our subversive
passive actions hashtagged illegal
if perchance discovered vis a vis,
we Americans express timeout
before changing role as seekers
playing wargames no matter
suddenly Nor'easter creates whiteout
futile search until spring thaw
melting snow exhumes
mister and missus Santa Claus
thank you climate change
regarding attributed drought.
Under This Azure October Sky
Still cruising here,
Still hunkering here
under this azure October sky
Still breathing here,
Still suffocating here,
inside this hair dryer which covers my head.
Still surviving here,
Still perspiring here,
outside, in the mad hot jungle called life.
Still riding here,
Still traveling here,
through all these lingering avenues
of time-spent days,
the remembering boulevards of months,
the forgetting hi-ways of years.
Still moving here,
through these wild inexorable hours,
of devouring events and digesting memories,
of searching for the unobtainable,
somewhere, inside a forgotten chest,
containing nothing.
Still traveling here,
Still traipsing here,
into the busy peopled shops
where the living never look into your eyes.
Still digesting here,
Still listening here,
to the final words of the wise ones,
the superior ones, the dead ones.
Still dreading here,
the final breath, the final heartbeat,
the climaxing stare, the last look.
Still cruising here,
Still riding fast into the tunnel of love.
Still missing here,
old ghostly friends, some gone to the grave,
some gone the way of the day's druthers.
Still missing the dead here,
all swallowed into the breath of the wind,
digested in an instant of collapsing time.
Still riding low here,
Still kicking back here,
under this azure October sky.
At home, on Amazon, hibernating from pestilence and logic,
I searched for happiness in contrivances, wastes, and textiles.
No game, but hunting. I watched my only life sunk
into a Broyhill sofa, sometimes hunkering, sometimes sprawled,
anesthesia. When animated, my mind traveled like intelligence, careful,
over pasturages and badlands, that minute, and once upon a time.
Then there's this small pensive cry: Look up,
there are rafters that hold the roof in perfect wedlock.
I am husband enough to enjoy my sorrow. I broke the ground,
sowed seeds on how to move on from terrors.
It took a davit to boost me up, but I arrived,
one frozen limb at a time. Before my renewal,
every day, early morning, the birds would come and ridicule me
through the clear glass windows, blackbirds
because it was cold. And in my state, I watched a crow,
loud-mouthed, telling me I can't, then she laughed
with that throat-thing she does so well. I gazed
into her cruel soul through a red eye, blazing like eternal fire.
She beat a bug pitilessly on dogwood, broke its spirit
as she thought of pounding me, but fly away blaspheming.
I prayed to God and got up to lie down only when I'm tired
of work and life. Now, the sun stays longer in these parts,
and I'm seeing more of life and perhaps death.
She's a gal I'm espoused to for a prolonged waiting.
Homeless, destitute with nothing more then a backpack and cigarettes
down the rabbit hole she went, no linen tablecloths just stricken wood,
in a house of ill repute;.
She could not refuse the hunkering of a horny man who lived by threats
so she counted her bills and tucked them in her brassiere with a tear
She cringed when glass smashed and grinded her teeth when she was cold
it was a bordello made surreal by alcohol mellowed Johns who were so old
A bawdy crib, (bagnio del innocente) bath for the innocent...
a knocking shop that foiled the linen and gave shiners to young girls,
no one cared
in this disorderly place, where the stew was watered down with whiskey float
Then came the raid that brought everything to a halt,
in a gestalt moment she found freedom, perhaps her prayers were answered?
Down to the river she went for a bath and a rest,
it was then that she remembered her first time, it was incest *
The wild caged bird had no other place to hide but in this fortress
she slept for days on the grass beside a great big boulder, ,
all the wild animals in the forest thought she was a Princess.
They let her sleep, and fed her pine nuts from the trees. Until this day,
Gianna never mentioned the brothel to anyone, no even herself.
Feb. 20, 2021
There were many ingenious things that helped win World War Two.
Jeeps, Higgins Boats and Victory Ships just to name a few.
Other things were vital such as radar, C-rations and wrenches,
But the ungainly steel helmet won favor with guys in the trenches!
Though the soldier always tried his best to look meticulous,
That "pot" atop his head did make him look somewhat ridiculous!
Designed to protect the head as directed by Army ukases,
The enterprising American soldier found for it many other uses!
It was used as a portable sink in which to wash and shave,
And it came in handy as a bathtub for the occasional lave.
It made a great laundry tub for the scrubbing of his drawers.
(Heretofore, Mom took care of such mundane domestic chores!)
Hunkering in his foxhole to evade the dreaded Grim Reaper,
It became a useful shovel as he strove to dig a little deeper!
On numerous occasions in it he was served his meager chow.
It was used as a milk pail for milking an obliging cow!
To rest his weary bones the helmet became a comfortable seat.
For all-around utility this handy-dandy gadget couldn't be beat!
Oh! And by the way it saved innumerable lives along the way,
Since its sole intended purpose was to keep shot and shell at bay!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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