Long Indiscriminately Poems
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One Month Into Winter 2019 Elapsed Here...
Within Perkiomen Valley, Pennsylvania,
thus far marginal snowfall
yet...the Furies of old man winter
huffs and puffs...with gall
unable make headway
against invisible firewall
shielding this area
of the keystone state haul
in tandem with the spirit
of Saint Peter, Paul
and Mary (Southeastern -
tri county (also)
encompassing the suburban hall,
sans Spring Mount Mountain King -
an egg gree us fellow - quite tall
simultaneously straddling Bucks,
Delaware, and Montgomery),
and much as I revel,
when blizzard conditions rage, a Saul
ting self importance of humanity,
where meteorological conditions
hurl a wicked frozen curveball
forcing fatuous, egocentric brazen arrogance
into unassuming (ruff) atoll
shape shifting paradigm,
viz dogmatic couture of modesty call
out depravity, immodesty, pomposity,
et cetera, vis a vis,
when "she" declares marshall,
law yes only when might
of Mother Nature tempers
trumpeting one donning
guise of cloudy meatball
unfortunately indiscriminately
striking havoc overall
mindful, honest, decent... folks
swept up in maelstrom, which pitfall
could cause loss of life or limb,
this teetotaler inebriated,
fascinated, and captivated,
and linkedin to thrall
dom wielded by volcanic, tectonic, climatic...
of phenomena take (measure for measure)
an indifference to scuttling
hominids beef four all
lose well that ends well,
asper scrimmage maul
ling the accouterments of civilization
then...deathly still quiet doth befall
after unleashed forces exhaust
and expend blistering might
temporarily silencing madding crowd
to standstill, and eventual faint crawl
courtesy of a wicked atmospheric drawl!
Clippity Cloppity
Emily Davison
confronted race horses
losing her life
dissident suffragette
indiscriminately
committed sabotage
chaos and strife
Hickory Dickory
Leonora Cohen
hunger strike ends with the
cat and mouse ploy
campaigning for justice
legitimisation
Scapegrace to magistrate
ending in joy
1 / 28 / 2021.
During the 1913 Epsom Derby, Emily Davison threw herself under King George V horse
Anmer. Dying from her injuries 4 days later.
Leonora Cohen in 1913 vandalised a display case containing the Crown Jewels in the
Tower of London. Defending herself, she was released on a technicality. After another act
of vandalism, she went on hunger strike while in prison, but was released early. This was
due to Lord Asquith's cat and mouse act. Giving prisoners time to recover, preventing
needless deaths while incarcerated. Leonora was trampled on by a mounted police horse,
during one protest march. She died aged 105 , serving as magistrate for 25
years and receiving the O.B.E. incidently she was born in the city of Leeds, where I too was
born and bred.
Don (ta) Ask Me 'Bout Exacerbation Of Trumpeted "FAKE" News
written September 19th, 2018, and following words still ring (more true) today – exactly six years later.
The then forty fifth prez
of United States of America
best get sent packing
to Lake woebegone
forced to coexist amidst University
of Pennsylvania Dutch
men in breeches
(May Apple lie)
swampy netherlands awash
with bipedal hominid
sucker punching leeches
where within every
whirled wide webbed
nook and cranny
Nietzscheism reaches,
and survival of fittest
iz basic credo,
and dogmatic ethos,
analogous to an apprentice teaches
a most frightful distortion of facts
and make up mistruths
indiscriminately bandied about
said alarmist blatant LIES
blithely stated with dangerous clout
appearing oblivious and totally
clueless without a doubt
punctuating with doubt Thomas
pettifogging questionable details
FALSE exclamations
generating fear with mindless
ignorance exaggerating protocols
as he doth emphatically flout
begetting, engendering,
and inflicting emotional gout
nothing accomplished by
hash tagging him a "LOUT"
and more opprobrious affect
would ensue anew
undeservedly praising him,
whose animus toward
Democrats would brew
but no matter what (tick)
tack toe taken,
he got nary a blue's clue
about vital issues,
which lack of insight
even Scooby Doo
would agree, heck the Americans
may as well install an emu
with more positive
forthcoming results,
cuz dis dope head like hellacious,
ludicrous, pernicious evils
in Pandora's box flew
his every actions
destroying essential glue
that sets this country apart
approximating Democracy, where hue
mans comprise melting pot,
whether Eskimos (er...
rather Inuits) in their
(fast melting) igloo
gentile, heathen, or Jew
experience limitless
pasta billet teas
applying their new
dill (aptitude) reaching
titular status of parvenu,
especially trumping proper, "P's"
and most every "Q"
before Wharton peer review.
Unorthodox nonestablismentarian epitome
Describes celibate bent aegis.
Mein kampf illustrates gravitas.
Underdog muted lest intimidation
think bully brandishing fist in my face
threatening to buzzfeed me
a brassy knuckle sandwich.
While breezily reading Judy Bloom,
(whose material geared
toward young adult)
book titled Blubber - published in 1974,
(which year found yours truly - me
undergoing amazing transition
classified as puberty)
bemoaned childhood's end - id est mine
interestingly enough romanticized boyhood
livingsocial within Lake Woebegone
(way before Garrison Keillor
named said fictitious town),
purely swiftly tailored
harried styled fabrication,
although that first decade
found torturous growing up years
more so courtesy
self exclusion from reindeer games,
thus during lunch or recess
(two most favorite classes)
bullies turned me into minced meat
taunted and teased
a severely socially withdrawn boy,
who never shared emotional agony,
he internalized verbal slings and arrows
eventually physically succumbed
from brickbats indiscriminately
lobbed at painfully shy
once upon a time happy go lucky lad,
(with a button nose),
when he whiled away days of his life
as the world turned
first at Lantern Lane
for about a half dozen plus years,
then at 324 Level Road
for approximately
one third of present existence
unbeknownst to him
that psychologically dark shadows
lurked within the outer limits
of the twilight zone
haunting corporeal essence
attached to those lovely bones,
now saddled with excess adipose tissue,
especially around belly of the beast
housing hunger artist
starving for knowledge,
and peopling his overactive imagination
with exemplary protagonists
blithely thwarting incendiary threats,
cuz of natural born defense against
gunning character assassination
courtesy fearsome imbeciles
hell bent on nasty, short and brutish fiends,
who did their collective bidding
vis-à-vis cut throat leviathan,
who overshadowed and locked in
propensity to live free and clear
analogous to unfettered noble savage
cannibalizing yours truly (me) as fancy feast.
Soul asylum salvation sought
as if survivor of mental health challenges
akin to foreigner trying
to sidestep gingerly self annihilation.
This morn I woke before the sun
The sky was dark and menacing
Just like the man who yesterday
Shooting his gun indiscriminately
Those innocent lives he took away
A massacre after a bright sunny day
Mass killings are now three hundred and seven
Of innocent souls who are now in heaven
In days now totaling three hundred and eleven
These evil creatures instigating Armageddon
There is nothing I can really say
but wish they’d take those guns away
On this deeply sad, traumatic day
My thoughts are in the USA
I send my love and hope and pray
that you will all keep safe today
Written after another mass shooting headlined our News Bulletins
9th November 2018
The glory of America,
now heats up
with agitation poised
to strike on the brink
sans legislation incites humiliation,
which goads desecration
as fete accompli chink
in armor of Democratic rubric,
constituting capitalistic
ethic, generic iconoclastic,
and jingoistic logic,
nor budging an inch
when mandating masses
swallow his drink
what huff huck –
this belligerent, dominant and
fervent hellraiser doth
bungle in the jungle
decreeing tacit Marshall law
fast as a shutterfly eyewink
as his cosmic crotch grab
doth put Venus under his sway
with his Mercury hill temperament
pitches the orbit of planet Earth
tubby comb out of balance
infected by hiz anti Jew pitter
damnations, excoriations, fulminations
Huzzah sing how whiz derriere
didst Sat urn simultaneously
crushing crucible as an Uranus
indiscriminately plopping
two hundred fifty pounds of flesh
doubling down humming
his favorite Neptune
that dost affect Pluto hoc crass sea
repeating a self coined motto –
I yam almighty, therefore no fink
simply commandeering the reins of control,
a one man military intelligence groupthink
hut triad and true dyed in the wool
rip pug in ant guise zing rogue
rejoicing tuff fool, governing and hoodwink
king the die hard fans of dictatorial,
linkedin and monarchist ink
cube bus thriving on
wielding indomitable aggression
practiced in the Art of the Deal
incorporating an unanticipated jink
iron fist rule reigning down
vis a vis pro pens heave lee
and prop hen city
flashing hiz seal of approval,
which scribbled signature
doth not smooth arctic monkey
serve hay puzzling kink
boot his frenzy to bulldoze
catastrophic, formulaic, and illogic
spells these United States
of America will become hell
in a handbasket worth repeating
with nary a trace of the grit of link
kin, the sixteenth president,
(whose ruggedly pioneering frontier existence)
found him steady and strong,
plus soft hearted as pelt o’ mink
the epitome of this forty fifth
elected commander in mischief.
Kindred in bound twine,
inseparably free by fiber,
torn by the heat from dual flames.
Chase and kick outward,
indiscriminately,
spiral—undone.
Bystanders are able to face blame,
even though disconnected from incident.
A Bastard those still may be,
if the case is taken up for them
like it wasn’t for our sake.
A landfill of waste,
a place where grace spoils
under a soil of turmoils thickened
by crude oils.
The semi-conductor to
man’s moral coil.
Unchanged by full or semi-sweet molasses mixtures.
Only taken on tour
and touch torch to name,
shining in a spanking light.
Change.
Limos stretch far past
The Vanishing Point.
Ethereal Limbo.
There, in decomposition,
In their lair.
Laughing down at the idea of fact,
which he protests to thee,
threatening its way
past thy door threshold.
With sand kicked up,
irritating the corneal scale
embedding deep within fine carpets
oriental pattern's detail.
Are we less superior to ourselves than realization?
Our temporary shell, our salt, our generation.
Our streamers flutter like snow in Antarctica.
longing and valid expansion, made of mica.
Striving to liberate us, it rips apart its body.
Once again, envisaging us embody.
Systole, diastole, adventure indiscriminately.
The wide open oozes a scent of love imminently.
Shimmering between each of the drumbeats.
Summer, you are the windlessness of such feats.
We ate, kissed, cuddled, and then supped food.
A day's total is a unit of measure for what you lewd.
Need and desire exist in an interdependent reality.
We bury our bodies as a sign of our mortality.
The fate of our remains while wearing the shell
The land utters us the title of a spare body smell.
Synapses are memories, and we are waiting.
In order to cross its boundary, there is no gating.
Written: August 09, 2022
Docs words repeated over and over in his head,
“And then I’ll cease to exist, I’ll… be dead.”
He shivered as he lit up a smoke,
The news seemed like an April fool joke.
He looked back through the glass door,
As he watched his son of ten, playing on the floor.
He turned away when he felt the pain under his vest,
From the cancerous wound that protruded from his chest.
It made his world begin to indiscriminately spin,
His legs shook violently as if his spirit tried to break out his skin.
He dropped heavily to his knees
And looked up saying “Not yet, God please”
“Give me a little more time with my little one,”
“To explain it to my son”
A white light for a split second flashed around him
From a flying object up high that shot out this beam
He was stunned for a short while
Then suddenly felt his chest and began to smile
The cancer was removed from his chest
“I’m healthy and strong like the rest”
He turned to tell the happy new to his son
But instead he didn’t see anyone
Opening the door, he called for his son and his wife
Suddenly he was hit by a man carrying a knife
The intruder was a soldier or that’s how he dressed
As they wrestled the knife plunged in his chest
He screamed, “Please don’t hurt my son John,”
The intruder’s eyes showed that something was wrong.
And what he said was stranger still
He called out “Dad is that you?” which gave him an eerie chill.
The intruder said “But how can this be?”
“You went missing 25 years ago you see”
“One minute you were smoking out side the next you were gone,”
He gasped for air as he lay dying on the lawn
The stranger looked up “Please God, I can’t loose my father all over again!!!”
But this time there was not light
as the
life
began
to
drain….
I fed my pride by killing loves, seeking refuge in the cold of my gaze,
And I accept the sentence of winter that embraces my soul with icy claws,
A jester to many, an inspiration to few, I was an actor on the gods' stage,
I comported myself both fearfully and nobly, seeking a truth hidden among the stars.
I crawled on my belly, I flew through the sky, never asking for permission,
My dark side, with deadened mud, has always supported the white,
Those hungry for grace tore themselves away from me, without accepting the bitter cup,
It's in vain to be an angel or a well-paid devil, when elevation is my only decline.
Good for healing wounds, bad for being condemned, only I know the secret of each wrinkle,
Only I am accountable for how I've been wisely alone, happily foolish,
I waste time too easily and gather money too slowly, forgetting the cost of passing years,
Yet I always offer the coming years a home within my body, indiscriminately.
Only not to be asked by the hasty for any dues in exchange for the halo of a saint,
For I lack the state to change myself, nor to suddenly say no to love,
Too worldly while young, too caught in revelry, for the passing years to darken my nature,
In time, words will be found about who I was, good words, misunderstood meanings.
I carry my burden with silent pride, for only I know the price of each step,
A squanderer of love and time, I lose myself among memories like a traveler without a destination,
In a world that asks nothing more of me than to be myself, to love and to fall,
I remain a dreamer dancing on the edge of time, without regrets, without pause.