Long Indicating Poems
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Thru deliberate seductive
liaisons, ploys, and underhanded gambits,
I tendered illicit, explicit and complicit shenanigans
blatant actions to foment coital adulteration.
Ofttime these discrete liaisons found me removing
linkedin metallic keepsake symbolizing union.
Years elapsed since this spouse pledged his troth,
he sported husbandly marital vows courtesy
monogrammed nondescript ring.
Impossible mission prevails to locate complimentary
jeweled tokens bespeaking our joint monogamous fidelity.
Yours truly beset with genuine disheartened woe
no matter public affections, he never doth show
thee above stated guilty admission signifying
mine absent overtures
(indicating even marginal wedded bliss),
the missus posits as wanting from me,
a common garden variety generic Joe Schmoe.
Self awareness heightened
within mental cogs and wheels
as if of a sudden hindsight brought
into sharp focus think barely audible
high pitched squeals
nsync with and accompanied by newsreel
silently displaying story
(solely my viewing pleasure) of mein kampf
metaphorically yours truly blown to bits
while hoisting myself by own petard
vigorously spiriting and
pitching me head over heels.
Regale thee dear reader,
I strive with utmost zeal
plus cathartic to expunge, (albeit poetically)
my pathetic, quixotic,
and reasonable rhyming spiel
hoopfully mine lame literary endeavor
won't upset any spur of the moment meal
thus tis wise I beat a hasty retreat
before ye sic on me Achilles heel
versatile scouts i.e. English language
verb boss and noun sensical police,
yours truly here expert escape artist
dog gone hard to grab hold,
cuz I trumpet art of making the deal.
Proclaiming high fidelity to wife high wed
she already with child (our first)
into holy matrimony we did nervously tread
"quod erat demonstrandum"- Q.E.D.
"what was to be shown" courtesy yours truly
this once upon a time
(about two and a half dozen
Earth orbitz ago) time newlywed.
Now he frets and experiences woebegone
as testimony scratching out
yet another one of his plaintive,
quirky, somber, ridiculously shown,
herewith I attempted to communicate none
previous endeavor ever considered exemplary
yet I diligently, honorably,
and literally try to hone
elusive talent hours daily
hermetically sealed, and sequestered alone.
We were (Leong, Peter, Anna and I) eating at a popular Italian eatery (outdoors) and the check arrived - I swooped across the table and grabbed the check from the waiter. Peter whispers, “You can’t pay for everything the entire weekend.” “Why not?” I say, “It makes me happy.” “There’s no reason to,” he says. “I need a REASON??” I snort, which always makes Leong laugh. “Have you MET me?” I say, shaking my head dubiously. “I’ve met you,” he pronounces, “and you’re a NUT. Thank you,” he says, indicating the check exasperatedly.
Peter’s transfinancial: a rich man trapped in a poor man’s body. He has taste but he exists on a grant and a meager stipend. We’re just friends but I’m holding a bag and he’s not. Besides, he needs a new laptop - badly - and shouldn’t be squandering his grips on me.
Greek-life is on the rise. Maybe it's because those groups offer planned social events or because, with COVID winding down (covid smovid) there’s more going on. There’s a pressure here - to be your most authentic self - to be top academically, socially - to have your calendar filled out. There’s a frantic nature to it. I’m being lowkey rushed for a fraternity (for next year) but I love my roommate situation and I think I’d druther stick with this set I love.
Which begs the question about social time. Should it be methodical, relentless, super planned out? Super planned interactions can seem transactional and not easy going and natural. College social life is so different from high school. College life is so much more charged in every way. The range of people you meet, the broader perspectives, the available options for activities.
I find myself in a search for balance. Private time vs social time. Before covid, you’d go to school and then you’d come home to your room, where you could just hang out. It was a self-care place.
At university, a dorm room is less of a “home” where you can be alone and spend that healing time. You never know who's going to be in your living room and what they’re up to. I get claustrophobic when my door is closed so I rely a lot on noise-canceling technology.
A dorm room can seem like those covid lockdown days - there’s little or no separation between academic and private space. I’m just unpacking some thoughts. *shrug*
Slang:
set = click/group
grips: duckets/money
holding a bag = flush/monied
Top shelf cologne exhibits sensual tail of peacock
Entrances my senses at our eleven a.m embrace
Eyes shut, my erratic stamina borrows comfort
Curled into leather front seat, chest inhales safe
Our waterfall guffaws cascade in establishments of stature
Grilled salmon, staple lunch, gregarious wine supports us
Role's novelty and glitz incessantly scratches my rapture
Unorthodox allure makes mockery of standard formulas
Indirect looks from diners, behind raised glasses, warped
Solid gold arrogance declares benefits blatantly displayed
Society fears breaking the mould, glued to ordinary course
Our acquired theme sustains disdain for lifestyles staid
Ocean boulevard grandeur sees counterpart meshed potential
Sleek topless travel exalts unfelt mist, road gloss moisture
Your life thickened fingers amorously grasp my thigh's tender
I agree to be owned, an ornament connects material pleasure
When the Polstar slows to crawl of steady tiger, stealthily slips
mid afternoon into carpark of your harbour side apartment
Disparagement wedges beneath my ribs, not having envisaged
aerobics of limber mayhem, loosened make-up, not just yet
Smug expression hugs your face, read in tight lipped pressure
I assert my plan to showcase new swimsuit may now be ruined
"Absolutely promise, gorgeous, there's no chance you'll regret."
My climbing premonition messages a gem of genuine
Ponytail splayed against mirrored wall of elevator
Ardent kissing's conclusion resurfaces your chivalrous
Door barely closed before I pouncing kitten paw you
Your flailing indicating a spare key cut for me, erroneous
"My doll, my dear desirable, the key is incompatible."
Mysterious grimace molests your face, causing me to frown
"Did the rum with lunch rupture your remaining brain cells?!"
Fatherly pats of my arms speak a decoy which confounds
Journey up two flights, could it be... heart in throat
Silenced keys caress sweat sodden peeled open palm
Your anticipating stare burns my back, unopposed
Oh, justify me - yes! - the door complies on demand
"Neighbour, do you like it?" superfluous inquiry smiling
Floating eight stories above glint of yacht metropolis
Invited by windows handing out reviving hold of horizon
Violent screams likely deafen you, interjected with frantic kisses
The pen is mightier than the sword, but our power of speech comes from The Lord
W.O.R.D.S = S.W.O.R.D.
Words are my existence, they take me to where I need to go
carefully chosen, because from my heart they must surely flow
wanting to express my inner self, requiring a very special tone
hoping for an opportunity, to move those with hearts of stone
Just how to break down those walls, and convince minds so secure
that to reach the truth of a matter, preconceptions they must ignore
a reality exists, yet unforeseen, and by closing your eyes you will see
how this beautiful world awaits, to be everything you want it to be
My words are from another world, a hidden part of me from down inside
this key that I hold is mine to share, or maybe choosing never to confide
bringing you to my inner world, poses a risk that I might be willing to take
sometimes overcome by fear, causes me to hesitate, lest it be a mistake
Preferring to maintain my anonymity, I keep a safe distance and out of site
residing at a humble station in this world, my heart yearns to remain contrite
the breath of life that G-d has given me, a power to freely speak these words
yet I know that all that I speak is captured, returning to G-d as a flock of birds
As words are weighed and investigated, indicating how we spent our existence
nothing remains hidden before our Creator, in whose hands rests any deliverance
whether gaining passage to eternal light, or leading us to our ultimate retribution
everything depends on the noble act of repentance, this the only viable solution
How to repair the pain and tears having caused others, if we were only willing to pay
since nothing stands in the way of a person's will, "where there's a will there's a way"
the power of words is well known, some have used them to create, others to destroy
but since we have been given free will, we’ll be judged by those we chose to employ
As is clay in the hand of the sculptor, so too is the wonderous power given to create
but so many are blind to this fact, only realizing what they lost after it's much too late
words are our final destination, an eternal foundation we ourselves have forged below
rewarded by a meticulous divine calculation, basking in the Almighty's heavenly glow
Cruel fate nixed our sites set for buying a hoagie
Yours truly and the wife
tended to some errands,
which included going
to the Limerick,
Pennsylvania Citizens Bank
for me to rectify
an erroneous address
indicating I Matthew Harris
purportedly and presently domiciled at:
96 West Miner Street
(and whereinthehellis)
Coaldale, Pennsylvania
18218-1017
which address listed after viewing
online banking screen
indicating Good morning,
afternoon or evening,
then scrolling down
to sought after preference selecting
either checking or savings account
then clicking on View
Statements in Document Center
subsequently choosing
timeframe, account and type),
while the spouse
patiently waited in a hot car,
(slightly more comfortable
than a cat on a hot tin roof)
then going to ALDI'S, GIANT
(the latter place
to dump off paper for recycling
and making a beeline to purchase items
in the clearance section),
felt sorely disappointed,
when a series of unfortunate events
(even Lemony Snicket
would have been dumbfounded)
occurred when earlier today
and last least on the agenda
found me headed
at the Royersford, Pennsylvania Wawa
for what I envisioned being
a mouthwatering (yellow) "submarine"
or just "sub" the general term
for both the bread roll and sandwiches
made with it in both the USA
and other English speaking nations
and lastly Wawa
right there in Royersford
felt jinxed cause we
(hungry enough to eat a horse),
could not purchase
(what both of us imagined to be)
our delectable aforementioned sandwiches
which DID NOT
find me being thee unsung hero
(regarding a damsel in distress)
actually courtesy using the EBT
(electronic benefits transfer)
SNAP food card declined part of the sale,
nor could I access (withdraw) funds
using a recently issued debit card
farcical indicating expiration date,
when the spouse gave me a dour
facial recognition expression
(and she feigned pouting like a child),
cause her husband
could not head back to the house
at Pooh Corner
with aforementioned treasured commestible
already finding us salivating
like Pavlov's dog,
which dude (who looks like a lady,
with sweet emotion,
especially after washing
and drying my hair) came back
to the car empty handed.
A view of the ragged woodland from
The window:-
Slender branched trees that shed
From high above to low below;
The faint, mauven peaks
Smattered with barely visible
Scatterings of drifted snow;
Across the matted undergrowth
A bronzed carpet of copper coloured
Leaves
Whose rusting hue,
Momentarily ignited by stray
Sunbeams weakly smouldering,
Briefly refurbished -
Deceives with all the colours of a
Rainbow...
From vibrant red through to shy
Hints of indigo;
Those vague outlines indicating
Receding hills;
Here, arising, long ago, every waking
Dawning,
The creaking structures
Of groaning and imposing mills;
Soon a slow thawing that quickly
Spills
Into the trickling replenishments
Of many gushing and silvery little
Rills.
Enchantment gripped me!
And I found myself wistfully
Thinking...
Maybe, perhaps, maybe, somewhere,
Just behind where the great
Flattening Orb
Is now rapidly shrinking,
That I might, by perchance, find,
If I did so hope to bravely dare,
To happen upon a hidden and
Sedentary way of life up there?
That, forgotten, has turned its
Back on the social conflicts
Plagued by the curses of ingrained
Vice;
Encumbering a soul with its petty
Squabblings,
Imposing upon with demands and
Avarice...
When placing unnecessary burdens
On a honest bodies daily call
Of grinding toil and wearisome
Strife!
And still stood,
With hands outstretched upon the
Painted sill,
At the waist half-bent,
Now troubled by quiet mutterings
In an inexplicable sorts
Of self-imposed discontent,
My staid consciousness almost
Unawares,
As, momentarily distracted,
I hesitated, and, unseeing,
Inattentively stared...
Until...
A ragged chapter of cawing Daws,
Loudly jabbering overhead,
Suddenly wheeled -
And upwardly soared!
Whereupon, in murderous haste,
Awkwardly fled
When laboriously stealing away
Back inside the stubbled fields...
Thus causing me to slowly straighten;
Whilst, with a singular heartfelt pang,
Liken a moorland mist slowly rolling
Over
That indivisibly conceals...
Drew shut the sullen curtains, which,
Heavily embroidered with indeterminate
finality,
Dejectedly hang...
Each draped aside of the cold
Reveals.
When was the beginning of time, and how long is forever? Beginning implies that, before then, there was 'no prior'.
God has neither a beginning, nor is there an end of life to Him. When, What, Why, Who, Where, and How are 'Forever Questions'.
God created humans at a given time and in a given space. Created in 'a forever state', only disobedience could alter such state.
They in turn surrendered their right to 'a forever state'. This right to 'a forever state' could be restored Through Christ Alone.
In a sense, we can hitch a free ride with him to 'a place called forever'. Forever speaks to me of a time period whose period is unending.
Yet, in a larger sense, the two words, forever and period, should never be allowed in the same sentence. Oops.
Forever implies there is time without an end, with a timepiece that has no winder.
Forever implies that there is nothing indicating to me when or if 'this is over'.
Before the beginning, there was God. After forever, there will always be God.
12152017 PS Contest, After Forever, John Lawless
Saturday is native to weddings and ceremonies
Of anxieties – patterned in coarse sputum of rain.
My friend Bonsy and his wife filled the calendar
With the uselessness of time, levelled against waste
As indicated by the clocks of dew-coated pavements
Of our yawning city.
Next to this was the arrangement of formalities which
Came with the attainment of stress. They haggled
Between themselves, the celebrants. Oh well, they haggled
For the benefits of the church from which the organ must
Sound, to welcome them – aisle-bound – among a congregation
That suits itself with the accoutrements of churchdom.
And the wedding proceeded amid the glare of the gentle
Sun, into whose ears the dulcet voice of the red organ
Poured. A postman once said to me, ‘If all posts bore
Wedding invitations, who would attend and who wouldn’t? ’
To which I turned my arms up, helplessly indicating my
Thoughtlessness to such questions.
And the church bell pealed.
It grew with the muscle of Doppler Effect when frayed nerves
Become inured to boiling cold like the one we all were witnesses
To, that blustery, unendowed Saturday, when Bonsy married June.
And the minister pronounced every word of conjugation with
Care, peering into the eyes of the couple and the rest of us sinners
Who listened with the attentiveness of cats on matters relating the
Rape of pious mice.
The organ rose and fell in one voice swoop, massaging the pride
In one sinner after another on this ceremony of whimsical gales,
Now sweeping the face of the town; this union of bone and flesh
Draped in dark suits and flowing matter of whiteness, white and
Whitish whiteness of white.
‘I DO’.
The church winked.
‘I DO’.
The holy house hummed.
The organ belched.
Outside, Saturday wore on like before... oh, no, not like before,
When it would have lain prostrate to its own fouled weather of
Extreme bride bliss and dancing confetti.
My friend’s wedding went on on the blustery breath of July rain.
Dark and fussy, the clouds, jealous of July, frowned their faces.
Rain spat gently. No thunder spoke.
Lightning came only through the lone eyes of cameras.
got what he wanted at my expense.
Said crack fast talking
hacker and scammer
pulled figurative wool over my eyes
going incognito and speaking a clipped
English mien his disguise.
He appeared (rather sounded) genuine
after yours truly experienced computer snafu
(the Macbook Pro essentially hogtied
courtesy virus that disabled any activity)
even turning the laptop off then on
only wrought frustration to boot.
An out of state Apple computer
technical support person impersonator
(imposter invariably linkedin
to aforementioned fraudster -
most likely brother in arms)
answered telephone number
provided on the screen.
Admonitions against sharing details
about case in point, whereby cyberpunk
donned many hats to convince me
serious computer virus,
malware, trojan horse, et cetera
counterbalanced with voice on other end
affecting sedulousness to "listen carefully"
and carry forth the following commands.
Yours truly trustingly,
passively, meekly, et cetera
(though feeling jittery)
carried out the repeated instructions,
which charlatan inveighed against
speaking softly (in retrospect,
I ought to have carried a big stick),
indicating (as if held at gunpoint)
to headout off to the Trappe branch
of Citizens Banks and withdraw cash
all the while recording verbal dialogue
with small, medium at large criminal
(the scam artist(s) in question).
Upon retrieving legal tender
(quite a wad), thee next entrapment
entailed driving to closest ATM machine,
an MP gas station/convenience store
in Collegeville to convert
high denomination bills
(a considerable number
of money crisp Benjamins)
into bitcoin cryptocurrency
then hightailing back to where I live,
an assisted living facility
named Highland Manor.
Finally, the schmegegge script
(incorporating ejaculations that
questionable hacker convinced me
to swallow hook, line and sinker)
alluded to strong likelihood
scam artist lurked in close proximity
to above named banking institution,
which divine comedy bumbling
Ace of spades, an inept card shark
anagram name (Meg Found)
left as crypto clue told.
It was a dream portraying 'PRELUDES'; not a nightmare of a pre concluded judgment. Defined as an introductory performance or event, the word PRELUDE speaks volumes. This dream was about 'power grabbers and politics', but more.
As I recall, I assisted my son in the purchase of his first car which was a PRELUDE. However, I wasn't thinking in terms of introduction, because that car was indeed the main event. But that's another story, because I don't really know why The manufacturer so named it.
Back to my dream which had answers that did not involve a well made small car. In my dream, there were elaborate plans and blue prints drawn up with anticipations, clever and subtle. There wasn't suppose to be a reprieve to raise the heads of compassion, mercy, and restraint.
The experts had dotted every "I" and crossed evert "T", or so the power brokers thought. The would-be losers were deemed laughable and assigned words like archaic, and out of touch. Staples like unity, compromise, common ground, and diplomacy packed their bags and left town. Detente is a powerful word that describes strained relations between opposing nations, but now
that same word was relevant to loss of civility between people within their own communities.
Things were moving from bad to worse and people in the know were indicating that present events and conditions were PRELUDES of worst things to come. In the midst of all the changing, there were prophets of doom and prophets of hope. Both prophets were surrounded by very dark clouds, but
in the midst of the darkness, there was clearly seen a myriad of rainbows associated with just one of the prophets.
I felt peace as that prophet looked straight into my weeping eyes and said, "Not all is lost; there is still hope". I then awaken from my dream and gave thanks to the God of mercy who always seeks to avoid judgment.
092521PSCtest, "P" Contest, New or Old, Constance La France. 3P