Long Jowls Poems
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From the Desk of
Jowls Fungus ( Flutist)
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What is "Ah:ooh;ah ooh: ah-ooh-oh-oh?"
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due to the language difference
some were worried that what they
were listening to jived against what they were taught
"not knowing what is said and agreeing to it
is against all the teaching of learned people"
the euphoria is losted when the words are explained
and the rhythm lack substance when
you see how the words jive against the meaning.
One to stress the importance of understanding
might use the sound and lyrics as
a learning orped·a·gog·i·cal implement
to which purpose is to inspire without
promoting or undermining the
the writers, musicians and lyricists
intent. A song's genetics are made out
of the story behind the song.
Whether it is inspired by a poem, a song a sound
or just written to showcase an artist's talents.
One should avoid to make an artist
feel inadequate due to there success
but the success of a song has a story of it's own.
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"oh-ah-ooh wee:ah,ooh-ah ooh ah!"
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From the Book;
I l Love You to The Moon and Back
"Lush, Buoyant and Atmosphere"
Written By Jowls Fungus
The zoo’s a peep show for kids —
excoriation from the
Society for Indecency to Naked Animals.
Bare chested is fine
but clothe their behinds.
The tailors stay busy
snipping and sewing
animal clothing.
A Buck Henry Hoax,
not too kind to Mr. Ed,
for the jowls of his butt
are looking red
and rather put out.
The sin-na shouts
at Jackie O
to dress her horse
and air-drops shorts
to cover unmentionables
on pornographic farms.
A group started for laughs
but many joined the cause…
P.E.T.A.’s cousin perhaps —
afterall, wearing fur’s a sin-na!
6/4/2019
The acronym S.I.N.A. Was pronounced “sin-na”
I welcome 2019, I'm glad it's here.
I hope it will be an excellent year.
Many years ago on every New Year's Day, Mom cooked hog jowls and black eyed peas.
But I didn't like those meals very much, I wasn't pleased.
Sadly, I now spend New Year days alone because Mom is deceased.
I certainly hope that the year 2019 will be a year of prosperity and peace.
God has given me another year to live and for that, he deserves my praise.
I will love, praise and worship The Lord for the remainder of my days.
I hope that 2019 will be a good year for others and myself.
And I wish everybody a year of happiness and good health.
Corsican sand
on the Rio Grande
Simon Bolivar weeps
the night asleep
Renegade cycles
hogs gone mild
Gehinnom's Mayor
Timothy Leary's child
Zebras abound
in Peppermint Land
Alan Ginsberg howls
from primal jowls
Leopold Bloom
did not predict ZOOM
Cosmic collisions silent
without Daniel Boone
Country music
Mix in Ragtime
from Alexander's Band
to Motown Rhyme
Andy Warhol's mind
spilled out in soup cans
Campbell's pork and beans
Welsh Rarebit also-ran
When free association
Met psychic gestalt
The resultant metastasis
Petered out beneath salt
Stream of Consciousness is out
New Age Meaninglessness is sin
Wherever Narcissism reigns
Foot Worship rushes in
The best poems at night
often come unbidden
J. Cricket fervently wished
This one hadn't been written
During the day
there's a deceptive lull
in the staid common parlor
when the home seems deadly dull
Stale air, disinfectant and potpourri
stirred only by the worried, hurried strides
of harried nurses down hectic halls
stuffy efficiency personified
In contrast to those, the steady repose
of regular residents
dressed up and posed
as odd antique mannequins
in fusty old clothes
like some bizarre storefront
window display
Obsolete, old folks
like aged birds perch
lean and lurch
awkward and angular
nodding and napping
half-waking, flapping
on various arm chairs
Others like basset hounds
lay the room 'round
eyes shut, drooping jowls
intermittent gentle growls
little subtle snores
comfy and carefree
bodies drowsily draped over
the sides of settees
Insensible to sound
and drooling a bit
sweetly sleeping all throughout
like innocent toddlers
with cookie-smeared faces
ingenuous and
all played out
Then eventually, nursing staff
bustles them awake
for activities, dinner
more medicines to take...
Then off to bed
as visitors leave
deluded and deceived
thinking that's all there is
pitiful old people, tragically perceived
You are getting on, old fruit
Too obese to wear your new suit
Your face resembles a wrinkled prune
Old age is showing on you too soon,
What has happened to your lustrous hair
Your scalp is shiny and noticeably bare
Your jowls are hanging lower than your chin
My word, I cannot believe what a state you're in
Shoulders that were broad and strong
They are now all hunched and look all wrong.
Your knees are knobbly and a little bent,
The left leg forgot where the right one went.
I can not understand you when you talk,
Your brain, not your legs, has gone for a walk
Your eyes look blank, staring into space
You have lost touch with the human race.
We lost touch over the years,
After sharing much laughter and some tears
I have just seen you interviewed on TV
Old fruit, it was a shock to me,
To see you sitting in a chair,
With all the hoi polloi and fanfare there
Smiling happily from ear to ear
Holding up a glass of cheer
With the TV presenters and your guests
Wishing you the very best
And the audience stood up to say
Many happy returns of your 110th BIRTHDAY!
The atmosphere was alive and palpable,
surreal really
as the aegean blue of electrons after a
summer downpour, where the crickets take a short reprieve to zen the petrichor.
The little company looked one to another,
spellbound by the new revelations. "Hillary and the People's Enslavement by China better not try
and hoard my food, buying farmland through
Bill Gates (their dojoboy). Said LizPiggo, "I can't take another hundred or so food processing plant
spontaneous accidents", she added, her jowls
and upper arm fat flapping feverishly.
"Why can't America grow food and fertilizer for Americans!?" With that, Chuck Shroomer and Nancy Mamosi kicked through the door with four ATF cartel members. "Not so fast,
everybody's hands where we can see them!"
"Nice and easy", hissed Nancy.
Penney replied indignantly, "no, it's actually
a home salon blend concocted by my former pimp!",
she shot Silky a look. (Silky understood he was
now HER beach).
"No, you stupid Christian sympathizers, redneck trailer trash! You'll be right at home in my FEMA trailers, haha!" Nancy was smudging her clown makeup in livid possession through pharmakeia. Her dark circles merged with the dark shadows, and also her eye shadows.
Penney fidgeted under the table unbeknownst to
the six traitors before them, pulling a Desert Eagle
out from somewhere. Before flashing
and thus distracting the agents, Penney
had handed the gun over to LizPiggo who
blew the agent's brains out in impending starvation
fueled rage! She was as animated as a Man trying to transition as a Woman at "show and tell"-hour at a grade school!
Chuck and Nancy scattered like cockroaches to
the other rooms then disappeared out into the
darkness...
Form:
Oh Daisy, my daisy, where did you go?
I miss your deep colors, I miss your pure glow.
Oh Daisy, my daisy, where did you run?
My time here is gone and soon I'll be numb.
Up in the mountains, or over the streams.
Perhaps in the meadows, or under the trees.
I stand here in shadows, looking for light,
But nothing does come on this shallow, poor night.
Oh Daisy, my daisy, where did you go?
I miss your deep colors, I miss your pure glow.
Oh Daisy, my daisy, where did you run?
My time here is gone and soon I'll be numb.
Here they come with untamed reigns,
Gnawing and grinding at my free chains
Their loose jowls pour over my blood,
As I sit here afraid of what I have done.
Oh Daisy, my daisy, where did you go?
I miss your deep colors, I miss your pure glow.
Oh Daisy, my daisy, where did you run?
My time here is gone and soon I'll be numb.
I'm sorry my dear, I'm sorry I doubted.
I believe in your ways and now know you have sprouted.
Save me, my love, for you are my hope,
The dogs now come to chew on my bones.
Oh Daisy, my daisy, where did you go?
I miss your deep colors, I miss your pure glow.
Oh Daisy, my daisy, where did you run?
My time here is gone and soon I'll be numb.
I've planted you deep within your own dirt,
And regret my mistake as I sit by the hearth.
My tears continue to water your bed,
So open your heart and hear what I've said.
Oh Daisy, my daisy, where did you go?
I miss your deep colors, I miss your pure glow.
Oh Daisy, my daisy, where did you run?
My time here is gone and soon I'll be numb.
Are my prayers wasted, am I to blame?
I've given you my pride and all I have gained.
I'm humbled by fear, and choke on my lies,
But I give you my all, just look at my eyes.
Oh Daisy, my daisy, where did you go?
I miss your deep colors, I miss your pure glow.
Oh Daisy, my daisy, where did you run?
My time here is gone and soon I'll be numb.
Take my hand, my sweet lover's sin,
And hold me close as the pain draws in.
Look to the light and relinquish your grief,
For the good father's here at the time of your peace.
Oh Daisy, my daisy, I've seen where you go.
I see your deep colors, I see your pure glow.
Oh Daisy, my daisy, together we run.
My time here is forever and I'll never feel numb.
It's a cold dark objective fear.
His face loose folds of jowls,
a sagging half squinted eyelid
and a lopsided woeful expression,
that hides cunning manipulation and brutality.
It's a rancid stench of flies
and faecal matter and musty mothballs,
that clings to the throat and nasal passage.
Entering the box white cottage,
one up one down, dark steps into
an eternity of mundane atrocities
and mass genocide of blue bottles.
A frozen winter, but not bone cold,
the neighbours say he starved and froze,
ate soil with his hands,
stripped wood panels from the wall.
His bulky frame denied starvation,
insanity maybe, greed undoubtedly,
as his hands grasped screw driver, plant pot
and bread knife rapidly stabbing,
bludgeoning, punching with frenzied violence
the face of an old woman.
Force and trauma and a wad of cash.
Now three square meals a day,
a warm room and cigarettes.
His lopsided blood hound face stares blankly
from BBC news.
I think of him at night,
walking across the lawn from his house to mine.
I think of him in the barn,
dank, dirty, a lonely space in time.
The darkness of man gapes,
and sits comfortably outside the window.
the pantomiming madman squeals appeals
as tall gray shadows elongate along the wall
like black-hearted judges brewing venom
within their jowls bulging and anticipating
the reaping of tears and tremulous wails
the growl of steel-bars and the verdict of iron-doors
molds monsters masticating pheromones of trepidation
as the silent song of degradation infects ears of prisoners
dripping nightmares into their brains wading in masks
the jolting alarm of roll-call roiling disjointed curses
falling into the melody of servitude marching in syncopated
perpetual motion as granite guards grind their hard jaws
scanning with silver mirrors pupils expanding and contracting
inside hellish universes of the condemned fingering fissures
hemorrhaging light illuminating scales of a screeching snake…