Long Idiosyncratic Poems

- - Chapter 2: Adult Responsibility (With Some Breaks) - -     

By ten years old, no weekends off, 
Or Saturday cartoons, 
Although I did have cash to spend, 
I felt my...

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- - - Chapter 1: Early Days - - - 

My father was a rich man, la, *
Though schooled in poverty, (1)  
As such he seldom raised his head, 
Displayed humility.
The center of the...

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Stricken with anguished nausea

Written three years ago tomorrow, 
yet superimposed (likened to 
emotional palimpsest) upon 
mental state of yore
recent post traumatic stress 
triggered courtesy war
torn legally tendered greenbacks, 
where enemy bonded, heisted, and netted 
mine...

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Every January first of the new year...

finds me (a doggone muttering Homo sapien)
to give pause for reminiscences
and to take stock (sh lock and barrel)
about mein kampf in general
and previous three hundred
and sixty five days in...

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I.
You can always tell by the eyes
When they’re starting to go
You’ll fall for a few of their lies
Before you begin to know
And you will just defy it
(But they know you will never go)

They’ll glide through...

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Existential crisis still encompasses mein kampf Valentine's day 2022

The following lines written disjointed fashion
attempting to mimic strategically 
moving pieces erratically on chessboard
ideally yielding ultimate resultant checkmate
opposing men captured for the queen to use.

Jurassic throwback terrible...

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Jinxed jesting jejune junior jobber...
just jabbering gibberish (A - J)

Again, another awkward ambitious
arduous attempt at alphabetically
arranging atrociously ambiguously
absolutely asinine avoidable alliteration.

Because...? Basically bonafide belching,
bobbing, bumbling, bohemian beastie boy,
bereft bummer, bleeds blasé blues, begetting
bloviated boilerplate bildungsroman,
boasting...

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He’s called the Eulogizer
He reluctantly accepts this moniker as our elder
A name for which he feels disdain 
Since it conjures memories of unspeakable pain
 
He's lost a father, mother, sister and son
His nights sleepless realizing...

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A walk in wonderland.
    Sun kissed shades of green.
        Ferns as delicate as Chantilly lace.
          ...

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The nanosecond bad a** to risk romance

Twenty first century technology
allows, enables, and provides
instantaneous virtual unconsummated love.

Within the course of a texting or sexting session
one lovelorn lad (or grown man)
can fabricate a faux impression
with the young...

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I have waited for the New Age--that Tranelike return to my Mediterranean Sundance Always and Forever missing the  journey of the Caravansary of old.
Hence, Only Time and the touch of the Rio Ancho, its...

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Dearest Poets of All Ages,
Welcome to the unique magic of poetry!
I may disqualify myself by saying I don't like using the term modern as it usually implies that we are smarter, more advanced, better than...

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I just wanted to thank Poetry Soup for, well, for being, for existing as a format for poets to share their hearts and souls. I can hardly believe it's been 6 years (gulp!) since I...

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On Friendship

To silently support and hold your belief
To hold you up when you are consumed by grief 
To embrace you for all of your idiosyncratic forms
To exist with you beyond the societal norms

To be born...

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Free Verse

I live not far from humankind the cradle that is of
what and where we are all coming from Johannesburg
so they say and going to one human race of every colour
no need for power domination...

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The first cut 
of roses 
are in bloom 
and I will 
see them soon, 
very soon. 

They float 
in a bowl 
of Arctic ice-flow; 
regarded highly 
by the local Wal-Mart 
feng shui 
masters. 

Made to...

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Petrified pottery ponders plots. Ploys play putting purring. And a frantically fraternising pickle arch can glow on many a skyline at dusk. In many hues. Many dusks many arches many hues and many hues mean...

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(In an Idiosyncratic Form, a Combination of Sonnet and Ghazal)

No one can describe you aptly. Men like you are few and rare.
The languages we people speak mirror our worlds everywhere,
Reflect our own good and bad...

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In antediluvian times, so pluviophilian
Red and gold adorned the grandiloquent pavilion.
With circumlocution's mellifluous elocution
Yellow frankincense sparked a yuletide revolution.

Colors of Christmas idiosyncratic and bright
Symptomatic of joy a quintessential sight!

Black's defenestration led to white's sequestration
Blue myrrh,...

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Sometimes I can’t decide whether or not
these words are saving me,
or if I’m wasting my time -
circling around the same clogged drain. 
Damning myself with the filth of what I’m trying
so desperately to rid myself...

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On our walk along the beach this morning
among the roar of the waves and those sweet saltwater smells
we hunted as we are want to do…for interesting shells.

We never know what we might find as the...

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"I can't decide," she said,
"Whether you're an aesthete
Or an athlete,
A poet or a reprobate."
                      ...

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Offenbach to boyhood, I pined nostalgic
Tale of (H)offman woe (mine)
linkedin, speedier than quick
brown fox jumps over the lazy dog,
fast as fired ballistic
soon after conception, when

yours truly a mere embryonic
nudnik, nonetheless I venture
to advance hypothesis fantastic,
and...

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(27/02/2012)

Do you know how to make wrong things right?
Just sprinkle a bit of propaganda on it
And let’s wait for it to be absorbed
The taste will affect how you burp

Propaganda can drag you to your zero
And...

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Written: January 20, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker 

Quote: “There is no sickness worse for me than words that to be kind must lie.” Aeschylus,

Line of inquiry: 

truth imbibed
awaits assimilation
we feel it in...

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