Long Insinuating Poems
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On the news today
The headline storyline was presented
and reported as follows
In Liverpool today some local right wing
protestors who's arms are up in flame's
replacing pitchforks for placards
Which was later retracted in place
of rabble of lawless youths one as
young as just age 15
Causing and terminating in a riot
and remonstrating outside a 4 Star
Hotel
Currently turned into a hostel or facility
to accommodate Asylum seekers
Because and due to according to official
press releases and reports
Misinformation being posted on social
media platforms
Which left the male only residents inside
traumatized and fearing for their own
safety and lives
So much so they do no longer wish to
stay as are now so fearful to even
contemplate leaving the confinement
of the building let alone venturing outside
Now it all depends on what and which
you as individual choose to be believe
As everything unless you were actually
there to witness it with your own eye's
and for yourself
You have no choice unless you know
someone who was actually there
But to take onboard the way it is
reported by the news media believing
they are holy trustworthy
Like in the aftermath the very next day
a reporter is stood outside interviewing
One of the Asylum seekers describing
exactly how bad it actually was and the
general mood and feeling amongst
those inside
With not a scowl but rather a broad
smile seemingly more than willing
actually happy to be interviewed
With what appeared to look like or
be a backpack as if he was just off
out for a morning strole to the shops
for the maybe daily milk or bread
Not someone in fear all dressed up
well prepared in expectations of an
impending fight
And granted that I did not see the
contents of hidden inside his bag
I'll have to rest my case
Otherwise I am in fear of falling into
the same category of what the media
do ever so well
Like insinuating presuming and making
things up as I go
And never letting the truth get in the
way when trying to embellish and
over egg a story
To live and forgive' to turn from hate..That insitant suggestion.' Raking your memory, insinuating that
All is fate..And every avenue, or road or track you might
Well travel.? Is full of twisted events in wait.' To steep
You still deeper in sorrow.' A heart of stone a dismissive
Mind seems the way to choose.? To throw away any hope
Of joy.' That way what can you loose? And in the deepest
Sense. Much of the above is true.' In this human world
We know..? Thats why we need to exit from such stony
Streets of woe.' Listen wisdom is calling.' As day and night
Fleet on.' Get you to the cross-roads; thats where she is
Standing strong.' Right where the skull is leering.' And darkness seems to win.' Fall now at the feet of Jesus.'
And be done with that burden of sin.'
Countless instances submitting poems
finds me racking
quite a hefty collection of rejections,
the responses lacking
disappointing voluminous vicious
venomous vitriolic backing
quite the contrary,
the prefabricated responses
unsuccessful at hijacking
my "FAKE" toothy gumption
(since I wear dentures) lip smacking
bite size packing
not exceptionally appetizing,
but definitely wanting
with more pungent acidity stinging
(albeit figuratively) painfully digging
into the essence of all bone marrow,
asper this humble,
who will brazenly continue entering
competitions until scathing
character ridiculed of course including
unsolicited yet denigrating
words clearly, definitively,
and flagrantly insinuating
this prolific entity among
basket of deplorables wasting
his precious energy and time crafting
ambiguous, horrendous, and
nebulous word mangling
poetic endeavors attempting
to garner plaudits generating
infamous, notorious, and
sanctimonious renown diluting
the medium, which
August pantheon replete
with posthumous scriveners
reputations eternally outshining
any facile, infantile,
and juvenile laboring
in my unbiased opinion
far more deserving
of a simple bland communique
devoid of any ripsnorting
flagitious, malicious, and
unscrupulous character assassinating
(mine), which continuously insipid sending
(to yours truly) said
tactfully gentle turning
down efforts requiring
nose to the grindstone painstaking
efforts, which witness shuttering
myself within this
mancave, barely surviving
on thin gruel necessitating
copious blood, sweat, and tears with
nary even a shopworn reprehensible glint
bombarding, condemning, and defaming,
hence such determination bedeviling diligence
to espy acceptably blistering
excoriating, and insulting
nauseating mean opprobrium
meted out to me
until such outpouring
of vindictiveness acquired,
I will continue logic bending writing.
Wherefore art thou to find (even trumped) critique?
You were mean to me in public,
And you thought you had gotten by with it.
Because I did not scream or rant.
On social media I did not throw a fit.
In other ways, I got you back
For calling me mean words, for insinuating I’m a hack.
But you have not figured it out yet.
I gloat in secret, running to my safety net.
You may figure it out today, or maybe not at all
But I have the satisfaction of standing right and tall
Because you were the meanie who made the bad moves
And I am the hippie child with the cool vibe grooves.
I have my admirers, my followers and such
How much time do I waste on you? Not very much.
Dinner by candlelight
Expect dinner by candlelight
The table is set in the garden
The flowers 'red passion of' exhale
a sweet smell in the air ...
Yes it is a little cold.
But I lit a fireplace just for us.
The flames contrast with the dark,
Magic seems to do to please us.
The musicians are the first chords,
Gay rehearse the songs that will touch
Today will be a lovely dinner, showered with kisses.
And embraced'll dance to the sound of
violins ...
Prepared for that special night
A good wine cooled there on the table
Along with cutlery willing to label
In the center two rosebuds highlighted
Another yellow red side by side.
Insinuating my desire and my passion
Already purposely scented flower essences
Then you get even more cute than ever
We talk about vague words unimportant
But our hands and our eyes banded
Could declare a thousand words
Gently yet ventured a dance
I now feel even more its fragrance and its heat
At this moment the taste of wine from my mouth
Mingled with the taste of my lipstick from her soft lips
Gradually refined our clothes before
They were left one by one there on the floor
Our hands were filled with affection and tenderness
Then our love was magically declared
Among the cushions of my couch in my room
At our first dinner by candlelight
OF CEIZAR FOR MY DEAR DUNCAN TE AMO
Sitting by the window of a moving train..
Feeling alone
She ponders..
As to why it must be..
Pointing fingers..
How can one know another..
He explodes in a massive fury..
Insinuating negativity..
Demands..
Insults..
Behaving as the judge and jury..
Judgmental accusations..
Harsh poisonous words..
Pointing fingers..
She had become an open wound..
Hurting immensely..
She had become a target..
A bullseye caused by his delusions of her character..
She stares deeply out the window..
Train moving rapidly..
Beautiful scenic views of landscapes..
On a warm spring day..
took her breath away..
Splendid visions..
Pointing fingers..
She feels alone
Pain..
Misjudged by another..
A victim of his delusions..
All..
While embracing magnificent scenic views ..
A stunning picture perfect scenery..
She melts into the moment..
She delves into the magnificence..
Captivated..
Becoming..
Being..
Suddenly ..
Only that moment in time existed..
There was nothing else..
Pointing fingers had vanished..
Melted away..
No longer existed..
Now she sits by the window of a moving train..
A warm lovely smile..
Glowing beautifully..
Natural beauty does indeed dominate..
(this written about a baker's half-dozen years ago)
this then stunning lithe oldest teenage niece, daughter of
my younger sister epitomizes a tall drink of water
(similar to the mother at same age)
What with her willowy young woman body
brimming with budding potential
for breath-taking beauty
enhanced by her quiet mien
expressing itself thru exemplary
artistic and literary flair
if asked to draw a character sketch anime
or wax poetic she would demure
modesty restrains her
acknowledging creative talents
so I thought to compose an ode in praise
of this quiet-natured adolescent
teetering on the brink of adulthood
(now a glowingly radiant young woman)
evolving positive qualities
via submittable the strength of said sibling
whose ambitious parents embarked to Spain
late summer found them
bound for the Iberian peninsula
this brother suppresses
envy adventurous bold risk-taking
exposing offspring to world wide web of Europe
fostering cultural awareness represents continuity
for I remember this youngest sibling
as gently conniving for courage
to act on her je nais sais qua esprit de corps
as like an inner divining rod
and faith in self-enabling an exemplary example
of motherhood constituting
both this and Marleigh
(the second of deux whip-smart darlings)
with the world at their fingertips as hands-on learning
all the while insinuating courage
to take life by the red dee bull horns!??
Form:
Blech - impossible mission to savor mug of ginger tea...
When the entire mug awash
with floating leavings
by golly by gosh,
sipping said herbal brew
analogous challenge
to eat spaghetti squash
with one chopstick.
Earlier yesterday February twenty fourth
two thousand twenty four
found yours truly (me)
blithely consuming delicious
La COLOMBE DOUBLE LATTE
cold iced latte, complete
with a frothy layer
of milk and a touch of sugar.
Lower gastrointestinal war civil
immediately declared
because yours truly beleaguered
by lactose intolerance.
Courtesy veritable sweet tooth
(er...rather dentures)
craved absolute zero sum game yoking,
wickedly villainous, x'acting tummy
upsetting Pavlovian salivating, romancing,
quid pro quo woe pea pie us, orthodox,
conventional, nun habit forming (Lie),
mouth watering, lip locked, kickstarting,
Je Suis ill lust trios, hymn bracing,
gobstopping, feasting immediate laxative
inducing, decadent chocolate baneful
cake courtesy of adoring bubela, (the
same over stuffed ego freezer oft
mentioned counterpart, who unwittingly
prepared spot of tea), charming,
hugely overpowering tenderly loving
zee missus diabolically exuding
"FAKE" gracious humane insinuating
jabbering, knowingly ill loo man hating,
needful offal pestiferous quasi rip
snorting, tush under fire, violent
whooshing, expelling xyz lower
abdominal contractions, indubitably
kindling, jumpstarting instagramming
howling, fostering execrable, debilitating,
besieging posterior, automatically
clutching derriere, experiencing ferocious
gluteus maximus intractable jabbing, knifing,
lacerating, mutilating nameless oaf (me),
painfully quaking das simian, torturously
undergoing vicious wretched excessive
yawping worse fate than death!
Otherwise ass hide from irritable bowel
syndrome approximately
twenty four hours ago
from Saturday February twenty fifth
two thousand twenty four
me quite yawningly wonderful, uneventful,
sedate, quiet, ordinary, mundane, languid,
joyously humdrum, fabulously for
two whit tuss lee drab
characterized local buttuck blaster
also hashtagged endearment
as bubble butt.
Now shall I cut thee a slice of outrageously
luscious, keister jump/kick starting heavenly
gourmet deluxe cheese cake?
It starts when she is thirteen,
Small jagged lines across her fingers.
‘Scratched by a cat,’
Is the lie that she tells.
While the scars on her fingers
Turn to thin white lines on her arms.
A silent plea for the help
She’d never ask for.
They increase in consistency
Until people start to notice.
She’s told that it’s wrong.
Never once ‘Are you okay?’
Even when the answer is no.
She wasn’t making scars
For someone to draw stars around them
She didn’t want someone
Calling them constellations
Of the pain she goes through
Or blaming themselves,
Insinuating they’re a tally of
How many times she needed them
And they weren’t there.
She doesn’t want them seeing it
As a sign she never asks for help
Like that’s the easiest thing to do.
The scars on her wrist
Are just a silent plea.
Everyone says its wrong
But they never offer help.
When she stops drawing
Lines to mark every moment
That the pain was too much
Or every time she felt like giving up,
You think she’s okay.
You think that she’s ‘better’
Because the charted lines
Have finally stopped.
But that’s not how it works.
She was brave enough to stop
If only for others.
But that doesn’t erase
The pain that she goes through.
Sometimes she wants to draw again.
Other times she wonders
Who will miss her if she’s gone.
"La Voz"
La Noche sin agua --- I spill my loving lips
Dancing, laughing, and celebrating life
I am his queen, aka' dulce Nina
A night he must not forget
Lunesta ... Suave ...
He savors every moment;
Then questions my capabilities
Suddenly I feel like a refugee in my own house!
History and bad company, repeating itself
He wants to ruin the beauty of leadership
America on top, Latinos on the bottom
"Legally," he says, he'll welcome me
Law-abiding, I pass the proper speech
Stereotyped every time I share my race
Casting my poor nationality under the Rio Grand,
A wall too tall, in which my people continue to build
After I give him my all
Children, love, support
The best tortillas in the house
He offends a lifetime of memories
I'm a skillful woman, I dance with no music
I love to work, I take the field
Picking cotton, like there's no tomorrow
I will continue to paint rainbows
And enjoy every color in my garden.
Today, I've forgotten what Mexico looks like
However, that does not cut him from
accusing my race of planting too many trees
Calculating, calling Latinos criminals,
Forgetting his sin, he wants to win
Insinuating we're robbing the American Dream
This is where I belong!!!
Go ahead and build more republicans
I'm already on the side I want to be
Born and raised in the USA
~*~