Long Leased Poems
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*Reserata Carcerem XLV*
Sassy sword ere was bruised blitzkrieg;
tainted torment taunting torn spree -
'n la-de-da lust 'n' rust'c rage was sh' draped;
doleful elysian -sworn swig sh' craved.
E'en adawed sh' grit cum bounty bliss;
athwart threw her lusty limbs flit,
smothering swoon numbed nature leased;
porous Peace's pursuivant 'n gaunt glee.
Anon, rolled b' as Earth's foams a *****;
cunctipotent kine time did spit.
Challenged h' sassy sword t' sewn scrimmage.
"I'm basked 'n ire", his larynx's rage.
Sassy sword smothered b' porous pride
embraced th' call, quotient ***** marred his life.
'20:07:14:14:46
Note:
a) Of sassy sword and powerful pen.
b) Written apace with Middle English lexis:
i) Ere - before
ii) doleful - mournful
iii) Elysian - Happy
iv) Adawed - subdued
v) Grit - courage
vi) Cum - and
vii) Athwart - from here to there
viii) Flit - Fastly
ix) Swoon - infatuation
x) Glee - Joy
xi) Anon - Soon, immediately
xii) ***** - Homosexual
xiii) Cunctipotent - Almighty
xiv) Kine - A hoofed mammal
xv) Scrimmage - battle
xvi) Ire - wrath
c) The following are used with no syllabic consequences:
i) 'n - in
ii) 'n' - and
iii) sh' - she
iv) b' - by
v) h' - he
vi) th' - the
Poor, leased heart agreeing to a blind date
With malice aforethought you bartered the rate
Twas not petty theft my reason to sift
But treasonous plot my passion to shift
Trite misdemeanor to coyly my fallen spirit lift
Felonious assault my tendered soul to rift
Friendly interest, floated my sinking dreams on your balmy skiff
Accessory to heartache, allowing my fleeting hopes to drift
A bended ear feigning with my liabilities to relate
Lecherous charmer embezzling my allegiance, endearing my fate
Ceremoniously following decorum, my good graces to satiate
Callously counterfeiting my honor, your own ego to ingratiate
Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?
“Why Hast thou”?
My unripe hairy-brain makes its claim
to be the image of its Father.
My vision today
could turn a green leaf brown,
or scorn itself, seeing only
the thoughts that feed it.
Forsaken… The melodrama is delicious.
Why? Why do I tilt my head like a bird
trying to see its reflection in the ocean?
Hast thou, or hast thee not?
In this my ninth hour will I find life
or rot forgot?
How can you bear my accusing stare,
how dare you dare
shatter
an accusatory word with a deep saliferous
silence.
Beetle browed I plow. How can You scorn,
the bully-dog furrow of this my marrow.
I am a borrowed creature poured out
- in water drowned.
Fishbowl eyes ogle the underside
of a mystery leased by onlookers.
Hast thou forsaken
Your own fishing expedition?
Hast thou seen, hast thou fled
the scene, hast thou ever been?
Your quietus plods deadly
upon my waters – my flesh
blooms bad.
Father, my unctuousness bleeds.
Yea, these uncertain breaths
rattle a ribbed-caged bird,
make it sing doleful.
Then as a clabbered lump,
I clump your sacred ground,
tromp it down until I am under it.
As a birds broken wing
flutters now slick with mud, now unbroken
and yet un-fluttering
I am this squelched uttering.
Forsake or string me along - go on!
What is this nothing that attracts
like a woman’s eye’s?
Why don’t You go away,
that I might feel You going,
that I might know
You were once I.
Father hast thou remembered me,
or hast Thou forsaken
your once born?
I hear laughter in the ever-after.
Wilt thou tuck me tight into the long night?
Hast thou misplaced me – unremembered?
Will I blunder yet into the light?
I knew a man who was raised by a farmer,
who had a very large family; and this man that
I knew was one of 8 boys and 6 girls. This family
farm was located on some of the richest soil
in all the world, and it was surrounded with
great scenery. But unlike his father, he never
became a farmer but worked long and hard for a
company up North that made farming machinery.
An early retirement brought Bill back to the family farm
that was then being leased out by a younger brother to other
farmers. It wasn't long before Bill became a fisherman. Bill
loved to fish, and if anyone ever asked of the whereabouts
of Bill, all they'd have to say was, "Bill's gone fishing".
I was never privileged to go fishing with Bill, but his
sister, my wife, would often speak of the great fisherman
that he was. She'd gone fishing with Bill a time or two, and
would tell me that it seems that the fish knew Bill personally.
Of all the nets cast into the same plot of water, it appears that
the fish raced to Bill's line more than any other in the water.
Bill the fisherman was not in it commercially. It seems that next
to actually catching fish, giving fish away was Bill's greatest joy.
081722PSCtest, A Jolly Fisherman, Julia Ward
Herd-mongers, schoolmarms and glorious twats
Piloting leased arks through drenched parking lots
Cadillacs cleansed of a fine week’s debris
Just in time for the polish of sanctimony
A river of swine, like the Jordan, it crosses
Over deserts of disheartened workers and bosses
The fracas of worshippers, beanied and veiled –
In the Third World, could pass for a fish market sale
There are loaves, there are nets – there’s nothing to eat
There’s so little legroom; there are beads on my seat!
There’s a mountain of missals, there’s a tower of babblers
And a nice hidden room for perpetual hagglers
There’s prime VIP seating, a great view of a tomb
Completely adjacent to the activities room
There’s most anything anyone could need or want,
So long as it comes from a baptismal font
When in walks a figure, so stiff and ordained,
You know in a moment he must be a saint
He’ll heal a few cripples, a Lazarus or two
And distribute those wafers that keep us renewed
Then we offer up thanks to some white-beard in the ether
With all of the joy of a rheumatic fever
And spill from the pews, lemmings on marble tile
And back onto the ark for brunches-du-style
‘cause the deluge has cornered-down many a mile
And sacrificed many a kind word and smile
Tolerance chiseled, evolution defiled –
Maybe let’s keep its hooks off the last decent child
Tolerance chiseled, evolution defiled –
Maybe let’s keep its hooks off the last decent child.
Hawkish angels with golden bows
chase away shawnee and wolves.
A sinewy faith built the rough and ready.
We were pleased to claim this land
for Jesus.
Despite the tornadoes,
we continued to raise
Midwest cities
from a leather flogged bible.
We were conceived in closets
where ancestral bones watched.
Buried in leased plots;
stones marked our lack of,
or notable faith in affluence.
Just past Easter, cracks appeared
in a pink painted sky.
An ethereal plaster crumbled.
angelic limbs hung,
caught in a cracked tableau.
Plastic arrows littered marbled floors.
A mall dream, but the dream had legs
unseen, they kept running
on the spot.
Log cabins transported themselves
to Theme Parks.
The Tuesday after Easter
hope clogged casinos,
took root.
God began to fill
storage units
with all His kids
persnickety dreams.
A former slender man (lapsed Unitarian anorexic)...
deplores adipose tissue gain
No Holiday music can soothe savage beast
washboard abdomen weight watcher's dream fleeced
skinny bag of lovely bones permanently leased
body snatcher somewhere amidst policed
madding crowd of carolers singing,
where mine sinking spirits ceased
rising today December 18th, 2020
analogous how unleavened bread
(i.e. matzo) lacks yeast.
I loathe shucking clothes,
(no matter eyes severely myopic)
in preparation for here goes
another warm shower quickly
relaxing this senescent
body ready to doze
soon after lathering
this blubbery body
most unwanted fat grows
on me, no matter healthy diet
of worms, or how I stand,
not so easy (Etsy) as add a pose
zing losing battle – Mary Jo's
if and geeze us of bulge ill flattering
particularly quiverly, sans white
"WALL" tire tread fully goes
steely belted around lower
abdominal area like lava floes
siring unsightly expose
yore squishy Jew dish priestly
punchy, plasma paunchy, gristly...
pillow like marshmallows
fittingly, rotundly soundly
identical with other schlep
tin (tin tabulation) grungy hobos,
this lap pissed lard (lord) Who Lee
bemoaning, how ilk readily knows,
where unwanted bulky flab...
most detested - hence Corp Yule Lance
leaves noth thin to noblesse oblige,
know bull eats obese,
anorexia nervosa or chance
barking out orders reminiscent, when he
hapt tubby a caller wannabe at
weekly square and/or contra dance,
now requisitioned to insulate
and excessively enhance
body electric can be mushed
into likeness of fleshy France
or repurposed into expanse
resembling any country,
whose name Kants
be easily pronounced, and historical
events glommed together recognizable
as Ataturk with a lance
bequeathed to rule World advance
sing gluttony as his divine providence,
thus requires deep dish allegiance
(non - fiber - binding contract)
for eats and make decadent
every fleshpot gourmand
stretching consumer cellular
skein to capacitance
bestowing guaranteed deliverance
with their rolling
ballooning massive circumference
into orbit with Earthly moon officiant
eternal fondue irrelevance!
My heritage gives babies names
Of relatives deceased.
It’s like the name was never owned
But, for a lifetime, leased.
Some people “cheat” a little bit
And use the starting letter,
Especially if there are names
That they like so much better.
It’s still an honor to confer
The name of one who died,
For memories that moniker
Will naturally provide.
The Royals do not share with me
My customs or routines.
My children didn’t get their names
From lines of kings or queens.
So I, like many others, wait
To hear the royal choices.
Reporters need a name to note
As everyone rejoices.
Whatever, though, this child is called,
Most likely will appeal.
Approval, in this case, I’m sure,
Comes with the royal seal.
While Shuttered Up Inside... ©ozy
Snug Air Conditioned Demesne...
Analogous to my boyhood
cosseted and bereft, I assay
to poetically elucidate how majority
of mine years found me
deft keeping danger at bay
only thru the pour substitute
of my imagination
remaining safe within the causeway
of a quasi Norman Rockwell picturesque
unblemished near utopian day,
where trumped up "FAKE" danger
stoked courtesy of
anticipatory anxiety didst essay
when pinhead size
pores faux stressed
every epidermal square inch
populating skin oozing perspiration
along I-59 pro Roman
lix spittle sweaty freeway
precipitated, via illusory mailer daemons
unavoidably pitching me
into an inescapable fray
unlike late twenty somethings
(Jay Austin and Lauren Geoghegan,
whose cruel fate
at the hands of Isis militants
published online by Irish Times),
evinced carpe diem
existential Great Gatsby
live life to the fullest
created an extraordinary journey
(now forever immortalized as
daring adventurist trekkers)
with ample horseplay
deliberately, egregiously, fanatically
and wantonly killed,
when purely exalting in zest
promulgated by indomitable spirit
found me choked up,
a baby boomer i.e. west
tern civilized married bloke,
who opted to die vest
away from blatant uncertainty
never daring to experience unrest
outside a severely circumscribed perimeter,
exempt from a life
and death litmus test,
where very little harm extant,
when taking repast or rest
only ushering, venturing,
and taking, sans
quotidian cerebral quest
ensconced within four walls
without nary a pest
except...pet peeves of mine
within psyche built a nest,
nonetheless hounded by many a vicious beast
whose predatory cannibalistic feast
comprises thine psychological state greased
with until mortality expires,
asper being temporarily lend leased.
To my face you are kindness itself:
cheerful, always upbeat,
but in your anonymous blog
you rip me apart.
You press your thumb and forefinger on each side,
hold, pull and rend,
and rupture my very innards.
You focus on me,
my life, my words, my actions and my body
like you are a Celestron Telescope
searching for every single crater and irregularity.
With an Ultima Barlow lens
and your Leica M9 18MP
You grab each natural image
and then rearrange reality with
your precious, perversely persuasive, periscopic Photoshop technique.
poetic liberty has leased you a license to assassinate,
humiliate,
decimate,
invalidate,
severely lambaste,
and mockingly castrate
everything that I identify as me.
literary freedom allows you to liberally fabricate,
mutilate,
denigrate,
incriminate,
scathingly castigate,
and maliciously urinate
on what others think of me.
To my face you are kind beyond selflessness,
but on your online beat,
your anonymous malevolence
sets you apart
from all the others
that have ever wanted
to write me up,
put me down,
and publish me out.
— Zumwalt (2011) (used by permission from zumpoems.com)