Long Inadequate Poems
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CONTAMINATED
Contaminated
Don’t understand it
Fell in sewer, can’t stand it;
Live and dead rats raccoons;
Walkin, floatin
Dirty, polluted waters
Manure other unspeakable sources
Don’t understand it
Contaminated
Harmful bacteria on food
Food poisoning
With bacteria, viruses
Chemicals or poisonous metals
Such as lead or cadmium.
Contaminated
Something unpleasant
Is harmful if spreaded on
Ends up in food, in our lungs
Land dirt, grasses
Air, animal/human skin
Even breathe in can happen in one of three ways
Physical spiritual condemnation
Contaminated
When items such as hair, glass, plasters, dirt, insects
Other foreign bodies are present in food.
Usually visible,
Contaminated
Most time hard to live with
Variety of mechanisms.
Inadequate hand washing
Mouth to mouth
Touch to touch
Body to body, yuk!
Body to inanimate objects
Contaminated?
4/2/18
Mamma, what a lovely angel you are
Before I came into this world you carried
Me for nine gruelling months,
Morning sickness and throw-ups
Is what I gave when you conceived me
And innumerable kicks from within
Unmindful of your pain
You prayed for my well-being
When you gave birth to me
You weren’t spared excruciating pain
You took that in your stride to give me life
Those were the happiest moments in life for you
Moments you had already experienced twice
But that did not diminish your thrill of
Becoming a mother all over again
You wanted a girl, I came along,
And you took that stoically
After two boys, you were justified
In wanting a girl
But that did not diminish
your love for me
I was left bereft of a sister and
blamed you
Inwardly, foolishly,
for not giving one to me
In my infancy, I made life
difficult and tiring for you
You took that as a challenge
and gave me the best childhood
a child could ever get
Yet, which child is satisfied,
I asked for the moon
In my growing days, you were
my source of boundless energy
Yet in my failures,
I always took refuge
in blaming you for my lethargy
You took my selfish behaviour
with a wry smile
And put it away assuming it was
an adolescent’s innocent guile
It was not as if you pampered me
and didn’t spare the rod
Whenever you felt matters were
getting out of hand
You took control and spanked me
to show who’s boss
And when I sulked, you smiled
and offered me candyfloss
As a young adult, I began
to understand your sacrifices
How dame luck connives
and throws life’s unfair dice
You helped me conquer
my every weakness with flair
And taught me the value of
dealing with people fair
You were always there when
I needed you the most
Now, that you are not there
I feel inadequate and lost
I am learning to live and cope
like a hapless child again
Hoping time heals and I shall
my confidence regain
Mamma, I salute you
For the way you restrained
And sustained me.
May your soul rest in peace.
E is the beginning of EXPENSE, the acrostic series.......
Expensive…Imagination caught my eye…I couldn’t afford losing you badly,
even if you’re worth is worth a pair of decent-looking shoes, but what are
really made of in the inside? Slip your feet inside my shoes for one moment in
your life…for all my life, I was left with a mystery with absolutely no clues…do
I have to find my way out of my solitary dorm? The ghosts are jeering at me
and intimidating me again and again and again and again… scaring me out of
my boots! No one gives any hoots! Untangle me from the comforting shell of
fatality – a story let to tell! You’re only a phony fool, in other words, a
worthless, inadequate tool! I’m climbing the Mountain of Gracious Glory,
gaining back my alienated ambition – I know where the wicked wind flows –
it flows in the land of milk and honey…it sweeps something grand into my
brain and seeps inside of my wobbly body altogether…it marinates in my brain
signals and I receive thoughts of endless sensations and luminous notions!
Deplorable Reality’s strategic tragedy stings like billion’s of buzzin’ busy bees
out of their honey dens or hives! My noggin is runnin’ wild in circles and my
mind is whirling like a seething storm that’s body-quaking me…controlling me
like a steel-made robot…these particular pangs of regrets makes my guilty
conscience overflow with low self-esteem and anguish…lamentation has fallen
upon us all! We all must stand tall…remember to brave & hop over our
obstacles optimistically and assertively like a horse during his training for the
biggest race he has ever trampled into! Do you have any clue what I’ve been
through? My notions that are spinning around in my brain is like the
vegetables, water & the spices, mixing well & swell into a stew, restoring
peace to my verse…Is my life a gift or a curse? Deplorable Reality’s strategic
tragedy stings like billion’s of buzzin’ busy bees out of their honey dens or
hives! I’m climbing the Mountain of Gracious Glory, gaining back my alienated
ambition – I know where the wicked wind flows – it flows in the land of milk
and honey…that’s where you and I will flee!
Scars can be stars to remind you how you have fought and won strong battles before
and give you strength to fight current battles
But they can be painful reference points
reminding you how you made wrong decisions before
and making you feel inadequate to fight current battles
It`s all about how you look at them
Birthday can be the happiest day in your life
reminding you that you are an year older
and one year closer to your dreams
But it can be the most sorrowful day
reminding you that you are an year older
and one year closer to your grave
It`s all about how you look at it
Criticism can be the ladder to your success
when it gives you the desire to prove them wrong
and stir stronger actions from you
But it can be the root of downfall
when you agree with the negative sentiments
and see yourself as a failure
It`s all about how you look at it
Six can be nine and nine can be six
a square can be a diamond shape
and a diamond shape can be a square
It`s all about from which side you are looking at
Everything in life has two sides
Choose the side that works for you
Where once verdant rolling highlands...
Spanned into infinite vista
far as these myopic eyes can see
now yellowing Whitmanesque
leaves of grass encompass field of vision.
Nary a dark dreadnaught cloud in sight,
nor unbeknownst if/when threatening storm
looms on horizon slaking parched land
delivering precipitation quenching thirsty terra firma.
I too experience vicarious dehydration
during bonafide dry spell
constituting theoretical string
hoop fully curtails weather beaten
flora and fauna
conceding blindingly bright
cloudless summer days
across disc (sky)
to amply liquidate shriveling assets.
Unbeknownst when spate of rainlessness,
(i.e. I pray for moderate soaking precipitation)
thwarting immediate indications
meteorologically signalling onset
regarding definition of drought.
Nothing more humbling
than cacophonous thunderstorm
nsync with jagged bolts of lightning
accompanying drenching downpour
analogous to downed wall of water
cascading from upper atmosphere
intermittently pelting landscape
albeit immediately, magically, quixotically...
transforming parched land (Highland Manor)
into profuse lusciousness
harkening Edenic denouement.
Impossible mission (this simple bumpkin)
(one local Schwenksville yokel)
(Civil War union soldier incarnate)
to forecast today/tonight
eventide of June twenty fifth
two thousand and twenty,
when Zeus will doctor
animals and plants courtesy
of requisite life source
also known as H2O,
comprising above mentioned
two hydrogen atoms
and one oxygen atom.
Ironic, how approximately
three quarters (seventy five sense)
engulfs planet Earth,
yet many environments
suffer inadequate deluges,
more so now with climate change
(global warming) increasing temperature
across oblate spheroid
compromising habitable places,
yet methinks coronavirus (COVID-19)
gave mother nature
much needed reprieve
cleansing heavily polluted urban areas
courtesy partial lockdown and restraint,
whereby *****sapiens
deterred, jackknifed, prohibited...
spewing noxious forth fossil fuel byproducts
encouraging, mustering,
plying, telecommuting, zooming
avast array of activities
augmented by virtual reality
technology supplanting mass transit,
thus diminishing deadly toxins
absorbed by all creatures
great and small.
O' it's written in books and songs,
That we've been mistreated and wronged;
Well, over and over . . . .
Buffy St. Marie
As storm clouds rumbled in the sky
and thunder clapped giant hands another child was buried
just another cluster suicide death
she was ten years old . . .
First Nation peoples of Canada live in all parts noted on charts
some in places isolated
where fruit, vegetables and milk is expensive
limited, and of poor quality
housing is inadequate and in need of repair
full of mold, and bug infested where babies die
some have no water or contaminated water
some have no heat or meat
sad when you think Canada was THEIR land
(o' we are restless and discontent, dissatisfied and want better)
but in the early history of this fine country
they where hunted, killed, starved and unwanted
and herded into reservations
into submission, becoming dependent and in time gone their
resplendent culture . . . but still proud and strong
shame on the government of Canada willing to accept refugees
putting them in nice hotel rooms and finding them housing
when we have people living in horrible poverty conditions
shame, shame on you Mr. Prime Minister
in my solitude and musing
I imagine a warrior on a high cliff looking at a vast land
he sits proud under a dark cloud
such is the shame as Canada is a wealthy and healthy
country and the needs of the First Nation go on and on . . .
these are truly invisible people
today the government is working to right the wrongs
some say too little . . .
I can see a canoe's drifting beneath a limitless sparkling blue sky
and fish are jumping and leaping
then, my vision fades into an internal night
and another child is buried because of no hope
the PEOPLE are discontent and restless . . .
__________________
March 30, 2018
Poetry/Free Verse/The Invisible People
Copyright Protected, ID 18- 1008-937-01
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
A truth in rage of insult furrows my mind
For it is only an offense given to me by myself
In the mouths of others far innocent than I
I feel the tears trickle down my cheeks
For I have surfaced into an ugly mistake
I am always inadequate in this brain
I try to shine like the advice of grace given
But confidence rarely rears its head my way
There’s a sort of shade blocking its way
A shade that darkens everyday
That very shade led me to believe my feelings are wrong
That I will never belong so long as they are not controlled
I must be careful—for the lines of love and lust run cold
I hate myself truly this night
And no one but myself will give me the right
The very right to degrade my every being
Because you are not seeing what I am seeing
There is no point
My lines run cold
Can I be so bold as to say
I still love with a pang of indistinguishable doubt
All feelings enter in
As my truth blurs and checks out
Your words pierce me so deep
I cannot describe the pain I feel
God it hurts so bad
It can’t be real
Much like the love I have come to embrace
The very love that links to your face
Tears don’t give it justice
It can’t be real
Much like the love I will never face
Being used…feeling helpless.
Being fake …feeling inadequate.
Being fat…feeling unmotivated.
Feeling letdown… being misunderstood.
Being taunted…feeling angry.
Being anorexic… feeling worthless.
Being gay…feeling emotions.
Feeling useless…being ignored.
Being alone…feeling neglected.
Being laughed at… feeling frustrated.
Being quiet…feeling small.
Feeling useless… being untrusted.
Being ugly…feeling separate.
Being abused…feeling challenged.
Being addicted…feeling worthless.
Feeling confused…being cold.
Being coloured…feeling different.
Being empty…feeling dejected.
Being unemotional…feeling hollow.
Feeling unfulfilled… being common.
Being sick…feeling magnified.
Being hungry….feeling urgent.
“But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
And torture a confession out of it.”
[Billy Collins: Introduction to Poetry]
I was headed to take a walk,
The weather was charming, quite a day!
I had the key, left the phone at home
And I decided for a little escape to nature.
I saw a vehicle stopped there, a face, unknown to me
She was asking, “Do you know where the salvation army is?”
I did not know, so many things are unknown to me.
She asked again, and I apologized for my repeated answer.
I knew not the word salvation, and I was never sure that much.
But I looked it up on the dictionary, it is a synonym for rescue.
And yet I was unsure, and it felt so inadequate, so inadequate to me!
The word salvation and the meaning of salvation altogether!
I recalled life in fragmented pieces, in laughter, and pain
Too much densely knitted at times, yet, nothing in vain!
In my memory, there are silhouettes of darker souls, suffering
Unknowingly induce the pain in the form of heartache, incurable.
And In the shadow, the souls still dance in dreams; in tears and smile!
I made a to-do-list, anxiety crept in, sneaking quietly in an institutionalized way.
Every time I saw this list, I began to tremble, feeling inadequate, worthless.
I refused to begin, because the list was taking up all of my time, ruining it.
This list stared at me from inside books, underneath lamps, beside my TV tray.
On the second day, I thought I could master maybe one thing on the list.
I looked at the first item and slammed shut harder than New Orleans in a hurricane.
I kicked the list from room to room, because it had begun to steal my hours.
It stole all of the happiness from my second day, and I allowed it, aiding it really.
I tore the list up that night. My conscious hissed at me, took a little bite. Ouch!
Today was the fourth day. I called people and promised them I would do the list tomorrow.
They will not make me accountable, but now I will.
My integrity will force me to do
All three things I have allowed to ruin seventy-two hours of my life.
I hate lists! I really do.