Long Know the score Poems
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Enea's Pope! (2)
I suppose it’s common knowledge
(and not tedious, I hope!)
that two-thirds of the Sacred College
must concur to elect a pope.
With eighteen cardinals gathered,
twelve was the number to get.
They were nervous, preoccupied, lathered,
for there was no favourite yet.
Day One turned out quite indecisive,
Calindrini accomplishing five:
Enea’s vote, far from derisive –
his five kept his prospects alive.
D’Estouteville’s position was healthy,
and he lobbied for all he was worth.
It helped to be fabulously wealthy,
and promise the voters the earth.
“I don’t want to sound like a critic,”
(thus whispered d’Estouteville in private)
“but look at him – pauper, arthritic.
There’s something you need? I’ll contrive it.”
The gist of the cardinal’s sermon
was that Enea worshipped Apollo,
and was anyway almost a German,
dire consequences were certain follow.
A cardinals’ caucus at midnight
convoked by the frenchified faction
made it seem that the tertium quid might
take a piece of the Rouenais action.
D’Estouteville himself was a teller
when they voted the very next day:
they’d do better to pick Helen Keller –
one of Enea’s votes “went astray”.
Now Enea’s on nine votes, and leading:
a silence descends on the throng.
D’Estouteville is far from conceding:
this process could well be prolonged.
In silence they sit in the Sistine,
feckless, faineant, forlorn
(the chapel itself is still pristine:
Michelangelo hasn’t been born.)
A shout comes from Borgia (Rodrigo,
that’s Cesare’s father-to-be),
“I’m switching to you, mi amigo!”
That’s one of the necessary three!
And then speaks Tebaldi of Naples:
“I’ll go with Siena as well!”
It’s looking decidedly papal,
as friends of d’Estouteville can tell!
One vote is now all that is needed,
one vote and he’s pontifex max:
one vote and he’s finally succeeded:
one vote is the one thing he lacks!
Colonna gets up from his cushion:
d’Estouteville and chums know the score:
unseemly, the shovin’ and pushin’:
they bundle him out of the door.
The spectacle can’t be called splendid.
“Enea, I’m making you pope!”
The greasy pole’s now been ascended:
It’s time for the slippery slope!
I am just a scarecrow
but my life is now quite dire,
they have decided this year
to put me on a fire.
Who is this chap named Guy Faulkes
I do not want to be him
I love to stand in my field
and scare upon a whim.
I'm very good at my job
I scare away the crows
and I didn't mind the robin
who nested in my nose,
and then there's Jenny wren
who's snuggled in my pocket
and now they want to set me alight
like they do the rockets.
Why cant they make this new guy
and leave me well alone
he wont mind being set alight
for he has got no home
they made me years and years ago
I;m really wearing well
I've a feather in my hat
and a chiming bell.
I'm feeling rather sad today
as you can understand,
I've a belly full of straw
and gloves for my hands
what will the farmer do
to scare the birds away
if i'm not here to shoo
them from his crops each day.
Do you know what I wish
that it should rain all day
On the date November
then they'll stay away
but if it should not rain
I'll hide in the barn
for I cant stand the pain
of leaving this old farm.
If only they could spruce me up
I can get the kiddies on my side
new neckerchief around my neck
in my field i'd take some pride.
When farmer Jones, he made me
he thought me rather good
so why has he forsaken me
to burn me up like wood,
I stood about on this field
forty year or more
I know which birds to scare
I really know the score
oh' farmer Jones.dont do this
your trust i;m sure I'll earn
I've been out in this field so long
i;m sure to green to burn.
The little children love me
especially my friend Nell
for if they came for me today
she'd hide me down the well.
The day is here, the time has come
the party spirits high
hot dogs, toffee apples and fireworks
waiting to light the sky
But wait the children saved me
with a bundle of old clothes
some welly boots, a turnip head
and a carrot for his nose
they stood about in a circle
and heres the reason why
when nobody was looking
they made a chap called guy,
so..my life's been saved today
I can live without fear
well that is of course
till Nov 5th next year.
Languor of the mind
I. My, my, My how times flies.
Another year has transpired.
Yet, a City has not been revitalized to the image once defined.
The crime rate has escalated since 1999.
Plus, the minds of the people negate refinement.
Do you hear what I hear?
A City is dying in iniquity.
Do you see what I see?
A City in shackles as mentally incarcerated human beings.
An Inauspicious approach
II. I went to sleep on the couch.
When I woke up, I ask what time is it now.
It is the sleep I was in that contradicted the housework.
Where did all this paper come from on my bedroom floor?
Do you know the score?
Is this done by someone I know?
III. A penitent to view
They stood behind bars looking out.
They house was situated at the end of the block.
The sirens were blasting as loud as blow horns.
They laugh to themselves for this was a warning of life forthcoming.
Do you see what I see?
A City in shackles as mentally incarcerated human beings.
Do you hear what I hear?
A City is dying in iniquity.
Ensued precedent
IV. When I came in 1997, the City was in a hidden culture of turmoil.
Unpromising and ill-starred was the faces I saw in the crowd.
The laughter was twigged to their high-quality of life.
But oh, the City needed revitalizing.
The unemployment rate was at a national high.
The dilapidated housing condition was a true ghetto now.
Black bottom shined in that we had left that period of time.
Do you see what I see?
Destiny undefined.
Do you hear what I hear?
Humanity laughter lachrymose without a focal point for future growth.
Do you know the score?
Iniquity and transgression are entrenched.
Is this done by someone I know?
The miens are seen as a desolated City in a manifold.
________________________________________________________________|
Written on December 27, 2015!
I remember the days they were born
Both in March, cold and rainy yet we were warm
Me a new dad and my love a new mom
Not knowing what to expect, trying to be calm
Jarret was the first, it was March 25th
Time seemed to linger, our long wait was no myth
But when he decided to take his first look
We both cried at our miracle, as if from a book
It’s the simple things, oh… the simple things
The next time we were old hands, but still a little scared
Wondering how it would turn out, our strength shared
The doctor and nurse seem to show no worry
When that heart monitor slowed down in a hurry
But then Anna came so quick on that March 29th
Our surprised little doc, still had her sweater on tight
It’s the simple things, oh… yeah, the simple things
The years go by fast, as everyone says
Somehow you don’t pay attention until, there it is
The first time he and I walked to our fishing hole
My buddy and me, him carrying his little pole
Jabbering away about the big one he’d catch
Me hanging on his every word, knowing this moment would be hard to match
It’s the little things, man I mean the little things
She was a cute little bug, always holding a kitty, puppy or such
She with her happy heart, I love her so much
The first to make friends with whomever she met,
Her big brown doe eyes are hard to forget
The next thing I knew he’s taller than me
With a voice as deep as the old man in the sea
His single word answers to questions left me craving more
It’s tough on a loving dad, but I know the score
She sings, oh.. how she sings wherever she goes
Our happy heart may someday star in the show
Later I pick her up and hear how the game went
Just listening to her joy, me ever so content
It’s the little things, those simple little things
I’m sitting in the car, waiting for school to abstain
‘Cause I don’t want him to have to walk home in the rain
He jumps in, looks at me and says, thanks pop
You know I love you, and that’s non-stop
It’s life’s little things…just these little things
It’s life’s little things…just enjoy the little things..
The doctor asked, “Any bizarre thoughts occurred to you?”
Mr. Trexler, the patient, had many since age two.
However, as he would mention with hesitation,
“Bizarre” was the psychiatrist’s reiteration.
The patient noticed the analyst’s keen scrutiny.
Despite all the thoughts, there was no spontaneity.
He felt pressured to produce answers in a hurry
Trexler’s mull would be, “How about the rhesus monkey?”
This patient had realized the doctor’s time was short.
He wondered which item might elicit a retort.
The Madison Avenue bus incident would stall
any possible response from the patient at all.
Mr. Trexler responded to the doctor’s question.
“No bizarre ones” he said with some slight inhibition.
This patient’s session dragged on for twenty minutes more.
At the end, the psychiatrist let him know the score.
“You’re scared,” said the doctor. “Do you want to know what for?
You have pushed your chair away from me across the floor.
Moving back a few inches is an indication
that you are overcome with a slight trepidation.”
They shook hands as the patient showed a mendacious grin.
As Mr. Trexler left, the next patient entered in.
A previous experience would pass in review:
This was riding the bus on Madison Avenue.
A week later, Trexler was back in the patient’s chair.
For many weeks thereafter, he would find himself there.
He began each session with thick vapors in his mind.
Other physiological symptoms he would find.
This man harbored neurotic feelings of the worst kind.
They were all too common and each rendered him resigned.
The doctor asked, “Have you found something giving relief?”
Trexler replied, “Yes, a drink” was his answer quite brief.
The patient saw each time had almost no difference.
He would soon assume psychological transference.
By placing himself within the psychiatrist’s stance,
Mr. Trexler soon discovered pattern resemblance.
This proved to be nothing new to this doctor’s patient.
Vicarious events came from things that were latent.
Trexler might see himself in other occupations
as a barber, cab driver, or priest with oblations.
To be continued
Hottest Thing in Town
I was kind of feeling merry
Drinking wine and sipping sherry
My mind was ready for a move
My feet were hitching for a groove
I was feeling as high as a kite
My hair was combed, my teeth were white
I was feeling so good
I thought I could, lick anything in sight
I felt the hottest thing in town
I picked myself up and headed for a ball
I was determined something had to fall
I made for the bar and ordered a gin
And eyed up all the girls i cared to win
I felt so good I would get my way
I could not wish for a better day
I was out for fun, I was out to play
I was feeling so good, it felt so right
I felt the hottest thing in town
I danced and boozed away till three
By now I was weary and could hardly see
The crowd was drifting from the floor
Panic set in because I didn't score
I knew why I was there that very night
My pockets were full, the timing was right
I was feeling so good, I had to treatmyself
To one of the damsels of the night
It seems as if I was running out of luck
When out of the blue it suddenly struck
It was my friend from sixty nine
Escorting two broads, who would like to dine
He though I looked lonely, so he would put me right
With a young lady of the night
I was feeling good, I danced again
My anticipitation rekindled for a new game
We chatted and chatted, then walked her to her door
She took me home and bolted the door
Then told me; relax, you know the score
It was just by chance we happen to meet
So lets get cosy, and have us a treat
We haven't got much time to spend together
So lets not behave like a sister and brother
I was feeling so good, things getting hot
My temperature reaching the nineties like a shot
But there was something strange about the lady you see
She had an extra leg where it shouldn't be
As soon as she got home she dropped her frock
Out stood a whopping block!
Man that thing was in a rage
The sight of which I fled the stage
I was feeling so good that very night
But when I got home my black hair was white
Marriage is a joke.
Under moonlight we spoke of an exchange of new sensations;
In the secrets of loves code, we created a conversation.
Into a series of unknown’s, we allowed ourselves to fall
And all in the hope of finding ourselves in love.
Musicians know the score is strumming my pain away;
If a she-devil wants to take me for a ride, then I shall happily go.
We are all lonely on the inside and waiting for just one big day;
Congratulations to you all! I shall raise a toast!
To the bride and groom;
Let their love be doomed!
To the drunk father of the bride; have another drink!
To the best man, the worst of us all.
Get on with it, we need to consume,
This terrible food the groom’s mother has made;
What is this?
Is this really true love? It will never last.
I give it a month before they are creeping behind your back.
Again she smiles, in denial,
Like she did when she first lied, on the day that you first met.
Now she is losing you from her memory; a drink and kiss takes it all.
She could have stayed with you,
But the more you do, the less is said.
A regular in a pub and a regular in love;
The last time you truly loved, it broke your heart; remember that?
Oh look there is your new love, being asked to dance;
Put a slow record on, get nice and close
And forget the love that you have.
She wants new things;
New lovers and a new reason to smile.
So your love is no more
And this thing you have always believed in, will only last a little while.
Beauty is forever fading and it will soon die.
In the days of our lives,
People always do as they please and they are empty on the inside.
You will never find true love, no matter how many times you try;
The phone rings, the lie stings…
I hope you live a long and bountiful love life.
(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
thanks for well wishes...I will see this thru...(like I got a choice)....always a
joker...not so easy still up and in pain...vicodin like an M&M...I cant read
individuals now, but that will come...Soup is where I am, and where I'm headed.
You guys know the score...Truth and perception...light and dark...Tom and
Rosie...some things just dont end...and she is my life saver, and my son any you
guys...so much wiser than me in so many ways...dont have to say a word...there
is a song about the sun and the moon...there is Bonnie and Clude...There is
scotch and water...and there is rosie and Tom, though I haven't kissed her in
eons..doesnt matter...no words needed...all the stuff I ever tried to say she knew
from the minute we met...I have one last word tonight without sounding pompous
and petulant---------...A fly and a fly swatter and a hammer... A 20 cent fly swatter
killes a fly effectively...rather easily.....a $200 hammer killes a fly as dead...but
much harder...much more effort and focus to accomplish same thing...a dead
fly...is a dead fly, but your efforts are unequal. Morale- (buy bug spray!...opps,
sorry....) bad word, you get what you give, and them some...one kind word to one
person can avoid a war. so choose your words carefully, they live on beyond your
wildset dreams...as your actions do...easy..but Americans live in their own world,
no more valid than another...yetmwe will die for a thing nebulous in conception.
Poets are the lead troops...hate the analogy..but go with a sharp sword, if you
must...God, under any name, will handle the rest......see ya tomorrow...rose will
post any news...she is incredible...as are you...I would dread to have her as my
enemy. I.S.Y.N.....dreams from another part of the world...Tom TTT 1-4-3
Rose, let the poets figure that one out. goodnight.
Was it said before? Sure.
Was it said this way? I doubt it.
Perspective is in no way obscure,
And his works are nothing without it.
His motivation’s observed in daily life,
Misery, not just some vague inspiration.
He begs for reason, some way to lessen strife;
His words reflect a resounding desperation.
There seems a need at times to clarify,
But that’s allowed in his terms only;
So many thoughts seem somewhat ‘rarefied’,
Fed his fire, but made him lonely.
No ‘underachiever’, not just another fool,
But still seeking solace by the glass;
Tempering his stagger and his drool
With just a bit of ‘kiss my ass.’
But, usually, genius ‘sots’ come to ground,
Lucid moments - on the square;
Their driving ‘bolts’ of genius, word or sound,
Only written because they dare.
Yes, you can feel the written “heart”,
But few of us can realize that sort of pain;
No isolated misery… of many lives a part,
Each begs an answer... “Who’ll stop the rain?”
Yes, he’s lived it, seen it, and told it well;
But Timing is the Master of one’s Fate.
Is the timing right? Funny…only time will tell…
Will you will be a whining sot or dare to be great?
One success can be lucky, we’ve seen that before.
One book, one song, then quietly fade away.
But six novels later, we should know the score;
He must have had something to say.
So, at the perfect time, someone heard.
Someone who was “someone” took someone under wing.
And to those with interest and empathy, they sold his words;
Saying they “are genius” and with “ugly truth” they ring.
But did he create any redeeming changes or impacts?
Yes, what singular influence did all his artful whining bring?
None... just a relentless, repetitive diatribe of sad facts.
Oh, yes…..and a little “ching ching”.
Entered in the "Idiot or Genius" contest 27 March 2014
not so genius
You start with nothing, eveything to be gained.' And so the journey begins..
Choices are some of the heaviest loads you will encounter alomg the way,
Bad choices, are the heaviest loads of all, these ones you can never put down'
And so you carry on getting richer, or poorer; what can the onlooker tell?
For they have their view, you have fame glam you have it made that's it to them,
They don't see the doubt, the compromises made in turning from early values'
The pressure to preform;becomes your norm, as an awful day begins its dawn
Rich in goods and low in spirit, 'friends' don't care as long as you are kept 'in it'
Long nights of glitz, days on the road; you need more space for the growing loads'
Eyes that burn with unshed tears, popping pills and snorting; don't quell the fears
Then there's a time when the dark one shows, he shadows your trail come or go
He sometime uses others eyes, when they look at 'you' he's there inside'
Its de ja vue, you know the score' you want out bad yet your'e soul's bit sore
He want's to take you to darker roads, lit by the perverted lights of evils glow
Let rage and anger surge inside, an excuse to cause hurt; and feed your pride'
Despair's a part, it lies in wait; when you see its face it will be too late'
There's a creeping lurking hideous thing. masquerading as your reality
Its name is sin' there's only one who really cares. He faced the cross & that
Same cold stare.. Its up to you; you know its true,
despite the fog in your mind And the day that's through' He can take the loads that you don't even own
Also all the things in your soul that's been sown, to cast them into the endless sea, so you can become rich with His Love that's free.'