Long Insult to injury Poems
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I'm shocked and it's hard for me to believe.
My fiancee has left me on New Year's Eve.
I thought she loved me and it's hard for me to understand.
My fiancee said goodbye and she ran off with another man.
I was good to her and there is something I've come to regret.
She convinced me to mortgage my home and buy her a brand new Corvette.
She left me and it has broken my heart and reduced me to tears.
After this, I know that it will be impossible to enjoy the new year.
She ran off with that man in the Corvette that I bought.
I hope she and her lover will suffer, I hope they will rot.
She was supposed to marry me and give me a life time of happiness.
That wicked witch played me like a fiddle and now I'm so depressed.
When she ran off in the car that I bought, she added insult to injury.
My poor heart is broken and as I enter the new year, I'll be in misery.
When I look at a recent photo of myself…I admit to sometimes feeling dread…because the photo that I’m seeing doesn’t match the picture in my head.
In my head I am much younger…on this my heart and mind agree…
while the man in the photograph…is much older…I’m not sure he’s even me!
In my head I can easily tell myself I am still that once young guy…
but that doesn’t work with a photo…because a photo doesn’t lie.
A photograph is proof that I’m no longer that budding baby boomer…
It’s also proof that our Creator…has a sense of humor.
Why else would she let my ears continue growing…I’m surprised people don’t stare…mine are as big as a garage…you can park a small car in there.
And to add insult to injury…the photo proves this to be true…She’s decided my nose for some unknown reason…should keep on growing too.
And looking at a photograph…this fact I must concede…my nose and ears look even bigger the more my hair recedes.
No matter how young I feel…I could use a cardiogram…every time a photo reminds me just how old I am.
But the Creator has left me a loop hole…which I havre found engaging…
My eyes have gotten worse and worse…the more and more I’m aging…
So here’s my solution to this problem…(try it before you scoff)….
Every time I see a photo of my old self…I take my glasses off.
And through the haziness of my vision…
when I see myself in a photo someone took…
I am always pleasantly surprised…
at how much younger I now look.
Me and the missus live in decent
sturdy accommodations (formerly
Schwenksville Elementary School
ofttimes referred to as prison,
and manager as the de facto warden),
albeit not so shabby nor chic low income
quite modest (rather unmatchable cost wise)
low slung building we rent,
for mere dime a dozen
pennies on the dollar,
which facility lacks no shortage
of gossip mongers
with mail delivery major event
whereby many old people smelling of unguent
housing faux superman
thumping flabby chests nsync
with hooking thumbs around
suspenders feigning to be affluent,
and self important as secret double agent
yeah, minus the countless snitches,
livingsocial buzzfeeding rumors
outside our one bedroom apartment
at Highland Manor ranks
as satisfactory ascent
to appease our taste,
and general environmental ambient
aspects compared to other
(mice and roach infested)
housing previous situations of ours
so, despite most every nosy, ancient
snooty, hoity toity...tenant,
particularly one butch,
cock eyed louey, facial accent
a perfect spectacle for circus big-tent
single bucked sharp front tooth
sparkles, mocks, glistens...
as if brushed with Pepsodent
of course displayed "FAKE"
seventh heaven-sent
friendliness, when poor us
being penniless with just tencent
copper piece experienced warm welcome
short time after moving here
(five plus years since July 1st 2022),
but demeanor thereafter went
postal stamping like the dickens
as if me an unrepentant
jokester, nonetheless yours truly minds
against hateful words adamant
lee averse to cast aspersions,
cuz a friendly gesture linkedin
preference to be cogent practicing
what this atheist doth silent
lee preach, sans attempt tubby tolerant
in the face of someone belligerent
attentive to credo, dogma, ethos
while alive in world be tolerant
of others, whether he/ she wuzzent
pleasant recalling days of yore,
I felt disgusted when hell-bent
to hurl expletives (adding insult to injury)
if bad mouthed me, thus
object lesson not requiring fervent
fanatical religious fervor
improving health of Clark Kent.
What Intended To Be Praise Of A Cold Shower...
(became something else (tau welled),
and tolled at this hour).
Though hermetically sealed within
this temperature
controlled quite bare
able (sixty degrees Fahrenheit,
the lowest possible central air
conditioned setting) insulated
one bedroom unit at clear
lee maintained Highland
Manor Apartments (where
vacant units frequently available
at this low cost facility, (deer
and the antelope play amidst
a wooded strip) fair,
lee enshroud above this
tranquil, serene, and hare
wren there, a quotidian
refulgent quite pastoral lair
ideal nooks and crannies
to read, which
non paid for plug 'ere)
won can seclude themselves
from the madding crowd gear
ring up to see return
of the native sob
bummer, day dreamer, flounderer
Matthew Scott Harris,
whose shut eye evoked,
a place he did revere
within the outer limits of the twilight
named Willoughby, while in
deep sleep he did mare
to his quasi
(caught in moat oh) mistress
sweet heart Lady Chatterley
(in an storybook parable
setting) analogous
to Sleepy Hollow where
a lookalike of
Rip Van Winkle
only added insult to injury,
when the "FAKE" headless
donned horseman got trumped
by a transexual, *****,
nudist, k9, homosexual,
eunuch corn, where
a cold shower shook
and didst scare
away every last
vestige I swear
so realistic disappointment arose,
when vision didst appear.
The pearl Indian Ocean,my soil,Sri Lanka a blessed with no less anything,so impressed .Flora and fauna wherever to see and smell,mountain ranges sitting like angels in the central adding beauty,the rivers turning like snakes in all directions spring from their mother mountain genes.
It rains in all monsoons sometimes fails.Here and there some reservoirs holding rain water to generate hydroelectric power.Rotating Sun all over the world in March summer marched down here in Sri Lanka burning the Lankan heads.Rain falls here in monsoons and fails sometimes even during monsoon.The Sun in thirst drinking the waters with its ray hands,holding in the reservoirs until they are running dry.Sudden power cuts imposed for want of rain to the dismay of people.
When it rains in monsoons water,water everywhere in liters everyone to drink.But in March summer not a glass to drink.Power cuts imposed hitting the pockets of masses and crunch state treasury is like insult to injury.
Failing is in human genes came from Adam in Paradise but God never fails.God gives enough water even all to swim for years.How can it happen to rain every moment everyone like? God has given the sixth sense instead to make use of it to decide what’s right and what’s wrong.Men for his foolishness fail in his decisions and pass the blame on God for no rain.If men is that wise he has to save rain water in a proper way to utilize it when there is no rain.
We have enough learned people here but these unlearned give no room for the learned knowing geography,the one much learned mathematics but the unlearned let the learned to watch their monkey dancing to the tune of ignorance.It’s like
Dogs bark not allowing cows to chew grass!
They, them, those people
Are lying, not relying
On God. Lying...
Every time they do
Their wicked deeds,
They blame it on God.
They don't believe in God,
So, the dirty deeds they do,
They pretend it is in
God’s plan.
Once again then you
We’re not listening,
Poets told you to
Protect the children
Those mad scientists
Interfering with nature -
Using their knowledge,
To test God’s virtues.
They use H.A.A.R.P to
Manipulate and
Control the weather,
Now they want to
Hold their breath
And say God did it;
Because you were sinning.
Well nobody believes
In your King James tales.
Who more than black folk
Love Jesus so well.
No one is more true-
Than people of hue.
So why do you
Add insult to injury,
As you oft times do.?
just like "Katrina
You blamed that on God too.
Man, is so smart he can go
To the moon (really)?
Drastically changing weather...
Manipulation with harpoons.
But you can't build a reliable
Dyke in the 21st century.
So, all that was God’s fault?
Why didn't you rescue the people?
Oh, I know, God told you not to.
Lying on God again
Be careful America...
When the food is scarce,
And our seeds are altered,
None to spare.
But we still need clean air and
Clean water: Don't forget, medical
Attention can be withheld.
Why are you still buying;
Fake Gucci, fur coats,
And Korean hair?
Why are you not planting?
And storing or
Preparing for another
Blackout or worse?
Even though you pray and go to church.
Then again you didn't take heed
Ignored the warnings.
So now, blame God and ask God why ...
God why- why you didn't save me?
He’ll then will tell you ...I tried!
I sent a poet to tell you,
But you listened to those
who blamed me, and lied.
You should know that you are
the last people I would hurt.
The wicked ones know
That poets are
The new prophets.
These liars are propelled by
Tricks and greed.
Then a voice said to them...
“If from the poets
you had only taken heed”.
I am God and they lied on me.
If they’ll lie on me, “God said
“What makes you
think they won't lie on you? “
“You had better recognize”
“You had better know it “
God said-
“I sent you a poet"
“I sent you a poet”.
‘Twas the night before Christmas and I’ve gone and broken my big toe,
I slipped and fell and injured it, in the freshly fallen snow!
I was carrying the Christmas tree, the one that set alight
Though the chap in the hardware store swore the lights would be alright!!
I’d gone to get some batteries, triple A, I was assured,
By the chap at the hardware store, whose knowledge I applaud,
But my smoke alarm is double A, and so it didn’t work,
When the Christmas tree set on fire and my wife called me a jerk!
But you haven’t heard the worst of it, I almost dare not tell,
Because all of the Christmas presents, set alight as well.
You see we keep to our tradition, put the gifts under the tree
And to add insult to injury was the vicinity of our settee.
The only saving grace was that our tv did not perish,
So I’m sat upon the floor, at least I’ve got the films to relish,
With remote safely in hand I search the films I most desire,
But the message on the screen says ‘your subscription has expired!’
The Night Before 2 Poetry Contest
Date. : 4th December 2019
Sponsor. : Joseph May
We (me and the missus)
live in a decent
accommodations low income
quite modest rent,
which facility lacks no shortage
of gossip mongers
with mail delivery the major event
many old people smelling of unguent
faux superman thumping chests nsync
with hooking thumbs around
suspenders feigning to be affluent,
and self important as former
triple secret double agent
yeah, minus the snitches,
the one bedroom apartment
at highland manor ranks
as most satisfactory ascent
to appease our taste, and
general environmental ambient
aspects compared to other
housing situations of ours
so, despite most every nosy, ancient
snooty, hoity toity...tenant,
particularly one butch herd gal
with a cock eyed louey, facial accent
a perfect spectacle for circus big-tent
single bucked sharp front tooth
sparkles, mocks, glistens...
as if brushed with Pepsodent
of course displayed "FAKE"
seventh heaven-sent
friendliness, when poor us
near being penniless with only tencent
experienced a warm welcome
a short time after moving here
but demeanor thereafter went
postal - stamp ping like the dickens
as if yours truly an unrepentant
sin nurse stir jokester,
nonetheless minds hateful words adamant
lee averse to cast aspersions,
cuz a friendly gesture linkedin
with my preference to be cogent
practicing what this atheist doth silent
lee preach, sans attempt tubby tolerant
in the face of someone belligerent
attentive to mine credo, dogma, ethos...
while alive in this world be tolerant
of others, whether he/ she wuzzent
pleasant still recalling days of yore,
I felt disgusted with myself when hell-bent
to hurl expletives (adding insult to injury)
if somebody bad mouthed me,
thus object lesson not requiring fervent
fanatical religious fervor
plus gluten free and NON GMO
improving health of Clark Kent.
It’s been 10 years since you last saw me.
I’m softer. Matured. Unrecognizable. And yet
the feeling of your roaming eyes still darkens my skin,
the phantom sensations making me retch.
Your vile intentions occupy a corner of my brain
with no sign of conceding territory.
I can’t go to the doctor
lest that hotel room comes rushing back
and renders me unable to bear sight of my skin for a week.
I swear colorfully,
as often as I did refusing you.
Would you like that?
Would you take pleasure being reminded of the resistance you so toyed with?
Or would you prefer me docile and doe-eyed?
God, I can’t think of a version of me that wouldn’t bring that greed to your mind.
I can only hope my age would shatter your desire
or turn it to ash on your tongue.
You’re a faceless monster,
carefully calculating and breaking down your victims’ walls
without revealing a hint of yourself in return.
I showed you everything.
(I want to gag at the thought.)
I know nothing of you.
You make up too much of me.
I used to find joy in who I was.
Believed my difference to be wholly my own,
an escape from you and the shaming eyes of God.
Turns out you were the cause all along.
You wrecked me, didn’t you?
Is what was once a source of pride truly a stain of ruin?
I am disfigured and discolored,
and no amount of bleach will ever remove your mark.
To add insult to injury, this was never bad enough anyway.
My ache is unwarranted; I’ve suffered so little in comparison.
I was 10.
I was smart enough to log off,
to say no,
to realize no dream was important enough to surrender myself over.
I’m not a true victim.
Your hands never grazed my skin
or caused deeper harm; you scarred me with eyes alone.
Our paths crossed for maybe an hour or two,
not nearly enough to last a lifetime.
So why have you staked your claim on my psyche?
I want to burn you clean from me.
You forced me into a prop for your pleasure,
faceless and inhuman.
There’s no telling if you sold what was never meant to be seen
and then how many times I’ve been used.
I want you to suffer.
I want you to ache.
Maybe that’s immature,
but that turns you on, right?
Creative Writing was my love,
a passion I thought highly of.
A freshman, I felt I could shove
one course in my school year.
Assignment 1 - simple indeed:
"Who broke your heart and made it bleed?"
I felt I nailed it; Prof agreed
(or so it would appear)...
I think I wrote convincingly -
"Winter is not my cup of tea,
it casts its bread upon the sea,
my saddest time of year.
I call a halt, enough's enough!
I clench my fist and call her bluff,
and frankly, speaking off the cuff
I wished summer were here.
"Dog days of summer make me smile
when, grinning like a crocodile,
my smiles are wider than the Nile -
Elysian Days with you.
With bated breath, I'd greet the moon
and croon you some soft summer tune
until that wretched day in June
when you dealt me a blow.
"My love, you had me on cloud nine,
now casting pearls before the swine,
you ran into his arms, not mine;
my baptism by fire.
You left me there sadder than sad;
there may be balm in Gilead,
but you left me stark, raving mad,
about to go haywire.
"To add insult to injury
you said I barked up the wrong tree
and so I sailed on glassy sea
I hope I'm not too vague,
or should I spell it out for you?
In light of your foul witch's brew
I should do as the Romans do:
avoid you like the plague!"
Thus it went on, emotions raw.
I hoped my prof would be in awe -
My last line was the coup de grace:
I know this, too, shall pass.
My gentle prof, he had his ways
of pointing out my bland clichés:
"You do enjoy a well-worn phrase!"
I learned a lot that class.
// Reminiscing on my patient Creative Writing professor indicating my over-reliance on tired phrases //
written 16 Aug 2020