Long Indiscriminately Poems
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April fools' day - ordinarily all manner of tomfoolery abounds
Written/updated since last year
unlike any other
when out of this world
outlandish accouterments
people did wear
hermetically sealed
of even faintest tear
to avoid contamination
against coronavirus pandemic
air supply difficult to spare
when wing and prayer
soul saving amazing grace
frankly against scalpers, marauders,
and fraudsters steeling
themselves to profiteer.
Pandemic straps tightly
plied girded beltway
unlike any other All fools day
in annals of recorded ("fake") history
western civilization tapestry doth fray
April first two thousand and twenty four
neigh, no time for horseplay
what with coronavirus (COVID-19)
boarded ship of jilted fools
(think *****sapiens)
barred courtesy omnipotent jackstay
furloughed workers analogous
grumpy minions lay
dwarfed by unfortunate global events, née...
germinating, jackknifing, and wreaking havoc
Mother Earth nonchalantly toying
(indiscriminately) regarding humanity
as bestrewing bajillion biohazards berserkly
bequeathing bedlam child's play
just desserts, she doth understandably repay
man/womankind flicked as flotsam and jetsam
vile treatment diabolically heaped,
jubilantly loosed, maniacally pitched
upon her terrestrial firma oy vey
she chokes, gags, laughs raspily yea
rebuffs, refuses, and renounces further abuse.
Nevertheless toothless gumption, albeit feeble
fighting spirit, her survival instincts assail
cumulative environmental destruction
triggered casus belli expelling deadly toxins,
when Gaia doth exhale
since onset of global interregnum
(think virulent spreading poisonous Kudzu
like wildfire biohazard)
since world wide webbed disease
brought grinding halt
consumerist paradigm in lockdown,
nonetheless within brief interim
noticeable clearer air to inhale
amazingly enough postal system...
intact voila... uninterrupted delivery of mail,
the daily highlight experienced
among people emotionally crippled
pasty faced and pale
finds quivering Captain Kangaroo
plus good n plenti proud primates
each dancing and quivering
like a captive dang gulling quail.
The humid air sweats streaming curls down the toddler’s flush cheeks like Fusilli hot from the stove. The golden ringlets cling to her forehead, bouncing like Slinky’s in front of her, blue-agate, eyes. The backyard’s sounds-bat cracks and wise cracks-surround her. Squeals echo from the mounds of loam behind her new house. The homes out back form a red, yellow, blue, green monopoly board configuration.
The sand box she sits in is full of scrap two-by-four blocks. Using a naked purple-haired troll doll, she attacks the pine-block castle, tumbling the battlement. A plank spans the puddle
(created by the leaky green garden hose). The barefoot tike, troll in hand, starts across the board toward the moonscape of mud mounds; where her sister and friends run screeching armed with rotten tomatoes. She almost makes it before falling in and running mud covered to mother.
Polish Catholics, Italian Catholics and Irish Catholics, lived side by side with English Presbyterian’s and we errant, runaway, Jews. The scent of tomato paste, knackwurst and borscht wafts through the same soupy air, where we play King of the Mountain. Big Boys and Plum tomatoes flew indiscriminately through the August air like missiles. The only thing which stopped the action was the distance ringing bell of the Good Humor truck, here on Cherry Tomato Alley. Here where each new neighbor had transplanted themselves: their children, their gardens, their sprinklers, and their cars to fulfill the American dream.
First Published in Melancholy Hyperbole Spring 2015
Divisive, abusive, hollow and torn,
Our politics broken through anger and scorn,
More pointing of fingers, of turning one's back,
Is this the new norm, our thorny new track?
What happened to thinking before all those tweets,
Like manicured gardens torn up by rough cleats,
The skill of debate, of viewing both sides,
Bridging that gap from all which divides?
Conviction and Passion bedfellows at times,
Are often the cause of unspeakable crimes,
Opinions do matter but where the heart rules
Indiscriminately steals the most precious of tools.
Reason and empathy, knowledge and tact,
Not impulse and odium and that's a firm fact;
One road may be windy, the other dead straight,
But both may yet lead to the very same gate.
A viewpoint reminds of an infant just born,
It develops and thrives if loved not forlorn,
Tended and taught by the many not few,
For that kernel of light to shine brightly through.
Balanced and just, open to thought,
Opinions conceived and not merely taught,
An untenable vision, an improbable dream?
It takes but the thinnest of wedges to open a seam.
October 16th, 2018, A Day At The Market With The Missus
Oft times zee spouse
lingers at select
supermarkets (Landis, Redners,
and/or Wegmans) without me
(figuratively) taking
all the time in the world
allowing this mister to reflect
alone (imaging tubby
a Norwegian bachelor farmer)
toying with this, that, or the
other writing project
sitting facing this
Macbook Pro laptop
within this one
bedroom apartment
comprising a quite
satisfactory unit, sans
Highland Manor Apartments
in the heart
of Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
reveling in solitude meditating, reading,
or trying valiantly to connect
continuity of words,
always pleasantly surprised
at finished product
(predominantly, asper
hashing out a poem)
with unpredictable captivating aspect
letting thoughts flow as they
may burst asunder
quickly keying
thee elusive threads,
albeit unconcerned
making a typing blunder
mainly focused on
barley distilling, coalescing,
and brewing alphabetic dunder,
when over zealousness
frequently setting wing
to literary creation, which
smug modesty, nonetheless
finds this scrivener to sing
(unwittingly premature
silent ejaculations)
joyus rapturous threnody,
whereat ring around the rosy
abruptly ends caused by
renegade doppelganger quisling
shell shocks yours
truly wear re: eyes
mimic pinball ping
experiencing short lived
(dramatic beaming effusion)
to plummet giving
little attention to proof read,
versus when I indiscriminately fling
an unpolished epistle of Matthew
riddled with glaring mistakes,
aye suddenly feel
embarrassed like a damned ding
bat reprimanding myself
and wrathful madness doth bring!
Our own hagrid (in the corporeal essence of marital relatives) heaves livid rage
like real life harry potter dementors dead set on wreaking havoc
mainly from the zison matriarch in a mental and physical decrepit stage
attributable in part to her four score plus years on a depression riddled life
but mainly on account that her least favorite son in law lacks any income or
wage.
Venomous rage spews forth like a smoldering volcano about to explode
threats to vacate the premises likened to toxic emotions
that bear down like the sword of Damocles or how atlas bore earth as a heavy
load
which chronic onslaught of fiery livid (red hot poker) rage
sets the entire collective family psyche in an awful tortured soulful mode.
Animosity brewed and festered for well nigh going into the eighth year
scant mutually agreeable resolutions prolong this debacle
at the corners of our ability to cope do rent asunder and tear
and last shred of sanity that remains whereby nightmarish demons leer
like haywire bots with maniacal grins their trademark flair.
Wrath batters and assaults without merciless cessation lathered with blame
that we supposedly bleed dry this elderly octogenarian dame
criticism and insults indiscriminately hurled burns like hellish flame
no matter both myself and spouse experience inherent weaknesses
any explanations describing efforts to reaching goals accepted as lame.
Angst permeates while hopelessness drips from every cell
dealing with malice (from blood kin no less) with no salvation this place we dwell
synonymous with living among the dead in I did believe in hell
whereby these retaliatory barbs tossed like hand grenades pell mell
because the old lady this ramshackle house she wishes to sell.
If anybody who read this help us please
An affordable rent such a deal this guy would cease
as a permanent place to live our plight t’would appease.
After waving fire is cast at stability
After scorched wood cracks its last cry
After last ash touches down, tranquility
After light of dusk waves its goodbye
When the ashen remains settle out
When rain of twilight washes away
When days turn months born of drought
When a survivor returns to his stay
Then the broken parts are collected
Then volunteers help to rebuild
Then a newer chapter's directed
Then victim can again feel fulfilled
It was fire who made all that he wears
It is inferno that wants him to perish
It indiscriminately burned all his shares
It is those who followed he'll cherish
12/06/2020 03:41 PM.
Imagine a long and winding line
all the way to Jabip
upon the handle of small grocery cart
envision mine white knuckle grip,
as the misses commandeers
moseying up and down every single aisle,
whereby an electrocardiogram
would indicate spiky sinusoidal blip.
I experience social anxiety
and feel like screaming aloud,
particularly when series
of unfortunate events
finds your truly
within onrushing madding crowd.
Unfortunately courtesy divine comedy
one erstwhile indiscriminately
cast out obsolete player
creator endowed him
with his trademark shaky spear.
One hapless generic garden variety guy
plagued with panic attacks
accursed lifetime providence
hellacious interminable suffering
until permanent escape
quasi vacation deliverance regarding...,
when grim reaper doth
cometh and taketh me away.
Oh savior enshroud impotent mortal man
at long last terminating suffering
welcoming me into portal
I willingly surrender
and welcome release...
beckoning death be not proud.
Impossible mission to describe
how fast paced life in general
generates utter confusion
analogous to floundering trout
besieges mine mental redoubt
mental helter skelter all about
as if mine entire body electric
forced, kickstarted, subjugated...
to perform (yes folks) hokey pokey
mental gears and cogs
snapping, crackling, popping
inside tumbler like noggin
purportedly linkedin hashtagged
with schizoid personality disorder.
Onset of emotional paralysis
stops me dead in my figurative track
metaphorically wishing me to skuttle
back into hermetically sealed manhole
invisible among interleaved bract
where within mine secret cubby hole
I play knick knack paddywhack...
to idle away leisure time
as well as solve crossword puzzles
meditate (on the gift of a watermelon pickle)
while listening to natural soundtrack,
and self hypnotize courtesy biofeedback.
September Sun
The sultry summer wind softly whispers her name basking in the early September sun. Eyes aglow with limpid beauty radiating with relentless compassion arduously preserved and adamantly protected. Humbly healing hardened hearts resurecting passion with a single winsome smile. Gentle reflection elevates and eviscerates indiscriminately exposing souls with sensitive grace. Chrystaline elegance of early morning dew reflecting brilliance beyond ever before imagined. Deep discerning emotions generously disseminated as the sunhine dancing through locks of gold. A moment in time etched upon my soul with the blood and pain of my past gently floating away in the early September sun.
I dwell in a high-rise apartment dwelling
That faces a gigantic air travel bureau building.
A bureau building with a mega mirrorred front,
thus its frontage a gigantic jumbo-sized mirror.
In the twilight hours of violet dusk or dawn,
the entire huge apartment flats
reflected on its mirrorred walls.
One can see the reflections
of the whole neighbourhood
All the faces peeping in from their windows
All the people hanging around
on their balconies and terrace
And if doors are left ajar
whatever is going on inside
their flats reflected indiscriminately
on the travel agency's massive mirrors as well!
It is quite a sight to see
esp for idle peeking, prying eyes.
Folks thus have to be conscientious
about their doings in full view...
But at midnight if you chance to wake up,
the giant mirrors reflect a spectacular sight!
The moon on a moonlit night
or starry heavens as
diamond specks of light!
Thus a huge patch of heaven
itself reflected upon it
Novas, supernovas, nebulas,
ooh, the shooting stars in God's Galaxy
all reflected magnificiently
upon the mirrorred walls!!
Fine shine, O' giant mirror, mirror
literally on the wall
But I'd rather you don't reflect
my unveiled form at all.
For I prefer being the invisible
belle of the hall....
The Monstrous Past
I try to put the past to bed and tuck it up so it can’t escape
I say goodnight and creep away, but it’s always by my side.
I try not to look and hope it disappears, but it lingers and loiters.
And looks up at me and points accusing fingers
The past travels without a ticket or invitation on my back
It weighs me down; and in my ear, whispers, nags and torments.
I want it to sleep and never wake, snooze while I survive
But I can’t prevent its vindictive tongue spewing the past
Its targets are various and hit indiscriminately with venom
Attacking my nearest and dearest, but no one agrees or consoles
The past bubbles to the surface with all my prejudices
All the things I hate helps to feed my insatiable paranoia.
I’ve been hurt by words and actions in the past - I’ve bled
I can’t deny that many times I’ve felt lost and alone
But there’s no excuse for digging like a manic archaeologist
Unearthing the finished past as if it’s scratching the lid
But I do- It boils and burns in my stomach like a sickness
Then its poisonous volcanic fire explodes upward
I can’t prevent misdemeanours, however slight, being regurgitated,
And relived. Until finally they are subdued and controlled.
David Cox 28/01/19