Long Leeway Poems
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(Continued from Bill's side 10“)
"Never mind that. I know you well enough to know you know what you’re doing.
Just stick with me and keep me informed especially on this one. I’ll give you as much
leeway as I can. I got a hunch this case is going to be rough in more ways than
one. Get me? I’ve been around a while. I didn’t come with this morning’s milk. The
Captain and I already been discussing this one with the Commissioner. This
vigilante thing is dangerous and already out of control.”
Bill still didn’t know where this was going but at least so far he hadn’t been
demoted to walking a beat. His hope and nerve was picking up. This Griggs guy
was tough and had a rep for no bull. “Yeah, that’s wha ….”
“Just shut up and listen, Sgt. Lipton. The Captain doesn’t want any part of that
vigilante case. He wants a good record for an upcoming political agenda. That’s no
secret. He doesn’t want anything to do with this case because he’s afraid it won’t
get solved and his record will be stained with it.
You just stick to what you’re supposed to be doing and keep your ear to the
ground. From experience I know that vigilante.. if it’s just one,... isn’t going to work
out his issues in just one precinct. Keep in touch with what’s going on while you’re
on and off duty. If you got to check something out off the cuff, you are to ask me
first. Get it? Mums the word to the Captain. If he hears anything about our talk I’ll
deny every bit of it and you’ll be left holding the bag. Do you get my drift here Sgt.?
……… … .. …. “Cat got your tongue?”
“No sir, I just…uh …yes sir I mean ….I get your drift.”
“Good , I enjoyed our conversation…now haven’t you got someplace to go? It’s
knock off time. I believe your up for mounty duty tomorrow.”
“Yes, I believe I am. Is there anything else Lt Griggs?”
“Yes, close the door on your way out.” Bill took his hat up off his knee, stood up and
walked the three steps to the door when Lt Griggs said without looking up from his
paper work on his desk, “Bill…?
“Yes sir?”
“ Glad to have you back“, he said with a more relaxed tone, “Now get outa here.”
And he went back to his case file.
Bill smiled, went to his office, traded his ball cap in for his Stetson and left the
building mulling over what the Lt had and had not told him.
(to be cont on Richard Pickett poetry site)
Ephemeral online moment...
Yours truly plagiarizes himself with zeal
courtesy mental cogs and rusty wheel,
thus no literary crime committed to steel
I broadcast material shown thru rickety
black and white Roman Times newsreel
forthwith shoddy wordplay exempts me
against copyright infringement meaning
only I own privilege to take self to heel,
nevertheless yours truly hoops longshot
to score brownie points a higher power,
I will not cajole, bribe nor appeal...
while sitting on haunches horsing around
contemplating how to clearly expound
idea that the here and now does not exist
cuz no sooner then present moment
experienced than bitta bing bitta bang...
little block of time immediately gone,
hence quite profound...
Whereby present, i.e.
2:24 PM March 4th, 2021
instantaneously becomes past.
Linkedin thru tenuous
webbed world wide
electronic thread defied
no matter flurry of emails/
messages exchanged flattery applied
courtesy transient online
tête à tête downside
cyber venue offers convenient exit
personal aversion, I chide
brevity figurative thorn in side
futile effort Androcles tried
I haint lion, familiarization denied
fledgling cyber acquaintanceships
dead on the vine, yours truly sighed
potential friendship never fortified,
cuz immediate value judgement cast,
instantaneously prejudiced aversion
perhaps hidden agenda implied
maybe intimated illusions of grandeur
netiquette nuances overstepped, I chide
yours truly vouchsafe
absolute zero great expectation
love smitten wounds pride,
the Italian girl in Algiers
inchoate mystique forever unknown
nonetheless fantasize bartered bride
figment of overactive imagination
hence grist for poetry mill
grateful fleeting rapport tried
to take flight before sputtering
doomed to dustbin of history (mine)
filed within memory as template guide
against future unnecessary disappointment
best stick to your guns abide
against infatuation lest
conjured lass doth override
focus on reality no matter who espied
Facebook post, tis foolhardy
to allow, enable, and provide leeway,
hence aimless thoughts elide
dear boy, ya never learned always denied
rapture becoming ensnared
noose sense and sensibility stride
ding blindly, dumbly, foolishly...,
into own perilous entrapment, verstehen?
Down I go.
On the paths of sheol again.
The rewards of death; my hands regain.
The wheels of the plow of righteousness; i forgot to maintain.
Being led into the desert,
I stagger like one under the influence.
All the while blinded by momentary pleasures.
A walk through the arid land with cold lifeless walls as my compass.
*Surely I have lost it*
These words my mind kept a fix on.
Regurgitating it while the devil's counsel slowly seeped in.
A 'sound advice', like Job's wife, the devil gave.
Urging me to totally quit.
A sweet ballad he played into my ears.
Telling me to embrace hedonism as my new religion.
For I would surely fail in living a perfect life.
He gave me examples.
Yes.
*Your righteousness is as s filthy rag before God*
The accuser of the brethren quoted this scripture for me.
I countered.
Reminding him that self righteousness accounted as sin before God.
Telling him of the uptmost essence of the Jesus's death and grace in salvation.
"No one is perfect"
These words the devil said in retort.
Quoting a popular quip which gave leeway for people to sin.
In despair,
I tried to counter.
For my Christian walk was filled with inconsistent up and down moments.
Like a touchlight with a failing battery,
The light of Christ within me flickered.
HE then came back.
Like a sharp clack amidst deep silence,
I heard His words.
That piercing word of life that erupted joyful tears in me.
For I was a washed out version of my former self.
*My grace is sufficient for you.*
*You have an advocate before the father who pleads your case.*
These words Jesus spoke to me in reply to the devil's condemnation.
*Look unto Jesus the author and finisher of your faith...*
This charge He gave me to cleanse me of all adulteration.
*There is therefore now no condemnation to them who are in Christ Jesus*
This fact He quoted to free me from all allegations.
*Seek ye first the kingdom of God and its righteousness...*
These words He gave to guide my future aspirations.
Once more I cling to the cross.
An abandonment of my fling with death.
A willing stone in the sling of Christ Jesus.
Ready to earn new trophies to bring to His feet.
Laying them down as He calls me a king too, being a joint heir with Jesus.
#Bashorun
June nineteenth one hundred and fifty years ago
Juneteenth hint: three hundred
and sixty six days
after eighteen sixty four.
Major General Gordon Granger
led the Union Soldiers to Galveston, Texas,
to announce the end of the Civil war
and the freedom of all enslaved people.
Jim Crow sat perched
over the event horizon
waiting in the wings,
which brought darkened
(non-sheltering) skies
not only for the hot pocket
of suddenly emancipated
persons of color,
who would subsequently experience
immense prejudice
upon their embarkation
as (no pun intended)
"masters" of their own selves
while attempting to eke out a living
dirt poor, yet resourceful
hunkering down on plantations,
which property eminent domain
of federal government,
(a political entity
characterized by union
of partially self-governing provinces,
states, or other regions),
whereby said body electric
codified, fortified, and indemnified
manifest destiny, a phrase
coined in 1845, the idea
that United States destined—
by God advocates believed—
to expand its dominion
and spread democracy and capitalism
across the entire North American continent.
Though institution of slavery
supposedly rendered null and void
at the stroke of a pen
(courtesy Abraham Lincoln)
well actual legislation
passed by Congress on January 31, 1865,
and ratified on December 6, 1865,
the 13th Amendment abolished slavery
in the United States.
Nevertheless merciless abuse
heaped upon the *****
despite their legal status
being Granted leeway
to persevere life, liberty
and pursuit of happiness.
Recognition as equal brethren
among collective soul of American
fraught with bitter aversion,
condemnation, and ejaculation
of physical and verbal violence
against people of color,
whose melanin enriched complexion
birthrights rendered hidebound
severely limited
inalienable rights as declared
in Declaration of Independence,
now still utter abhorrence
regarding treatment
of those proud enterprising people,
whose once storied
African past left in tatters
leaving sparse threads
woven together by diligent dogged research
nsync with twenty first century technology
to allow, enable and provide opportunity
to stitch together a more complete tapestry
and spiritual fusion with shackled ancestors.
Duncan was a young British soldier,
new recruit at fifteen years of age,
a good lad who followed his orders,
he was a fifer who liked to play,
his tunes directed men in the field,
the Blackwatch soldiers who didn’t yield,
deployed in 1758
to America, to wilds great.
Sent to take the fight there to the French,
in New York’s rugged northern mountains,
from long Lake George the march would begin,
a desire for vengeance to quench,
after what happened the year before
at William Henry, the blood and gore…
Abercrombie was put in command,
but left many duties to George Howe,
a young officer, and steadfast man,
lots of leeway to chap was allowed.
So out would row 18, 000 men,
excited Duncan plunked amongst them,
largest force seen on Yankee shores,
compared to the French, near five times more.
All of the men’s spirits running high,
highlanders, militia, native scouts,
the outcome didn’t seem much in doubt
when the lake’s northern end they espied,
the French had all fled that patch of earth,
Howe’s forward columns got to their work.
Duncan was not part of this advance,
his unit was unloading behind,
ahead Howe encountered men from France
trying to retreat behind their lines.
Loud gunshots echoed back through the woods,
young Duncan, then, did not feel so good,
went about unloading with frayed nerves,
after some hours, then men returned.
They spoke of a skirmish amongst trees,
how the noble Lord Howe was shot dead
in the fighting, before the French fled,
after suffering casualties.
Now Abercrombie alone took charge,
which didn’t help to lift people’s hearts.
The next day Colonel John Bradstreet went
with men to reconnoiter the scene,
up Rattlesnake hill his troop was sent,
saw the fort, information was gleaned;
Fort Carillon looked in bad repair,
and they could see no forward lines there,
with a charge they thought the French would break,
but they didn’t see their great mistake:
Trees and shrubs shielded breastworks from view,
and branches formed into abatis,
through which no marching line could persist,
none of these things Abercrombie knew,
and fearing reinforcements in time,
he chose to strike, left big guns behind.
CONTINUES IN PART II.
Ephemeral social media rendezvous
"Abort, Retry, Fail?"
(or "Abort, Retry, Ignore?")
essentially spells does not compute
in bobbing spongy mindscape
of your friendly martian
donned with square pants,
when he experiences unresponsiveness
from *****sapiens
whose interpersonal offline etiquette
indicative as if yours truly
hailed from an alien nation,
yet said earthlings take objection
if their overture not acknowledged
to him/her, whereby he/she
exhibits vituperative ranting and raving
prompting me to speculate double standard
beholden courtesy egocentric species,
especially when attempts
to subscribe to netiquette
yields disastrous results
hashtagging me as deplorable basket case.
Linkedin thru tenuous
webbed world wide
electronic thread defied
no matter flurry of emails/
messages exchanged flattery applied
courtesy transient online
tête à tête downside
cyber venue offers convenient exit
personal aversion, I chide
brevity figurative thorn in side
futile effort Androcles tried
I haint lion, familiarization denied
fledgling cyber acquaintanceships
dead on the vine, yours truly sighed
potential friendship never fortified,
cuz immediate value judgement cast,
instantaneously prejudiced aversion
perhaps hidden agenda implied
maybe intimated illusions of grandeur
netiquette nuances overstepped, I chide
yours truly vouchsafe
absolute zero great expectation
love smitten wounds pride,
the Italian girl in Algiers
inchoate mystique forever unknown
nonetheless fantasize bartered bride
figment of overactive imagination
hence grist for poetry mill
grateful fleeting rapport tried
to take flight before sputtering
doomed to dustbin of history (mine)
filed within memory as template guide
against future unnecessary disappointment
best stick to your guns abide
against infatuation lest
conjured lass doth override
focus on reality no matter who espied
Facebook post, tis foolhardy
to allow, enable, and provide leeway,
hence aimless thoughts elide
dear boy, ya never learned always denied
rapture becoming ensnared
noose sense and sensibility stride
ding blindly, dumbly, foolishly...,
into own perilous entrapment, verstehen?
Each Night He Heard Steps Of Death's Forward Guard
(Stand Back, I Got This One His Muse Cried)
He was now old, ancient, older than dirt
even his tired bones ached, everything hurt.
Those bad dreams, on and on they swiftly came
horrible images of he hobbled and lame!
What cursed ravages Time and Fate had wrought
now still alive, he knew his soul was caught.
Gone are days of living, sweet love and joy
small relief found, dreaming he was a boy.
Each night he heard steps of death's forward guard
enduring such fear, living was too hard!
Yet try as he may, no remedy was found
soon he would be planted in cold hard ground!
Dawn, into that long dark shadow he fell
with one foreboding thought, Heaven or Hell?
Robert J. Lindley, 4-16-2017
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 11 10 10 10 10 10 10 11 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 142
Total # Words: 114
Note:
I chose to write a dark and sad sonnet about old age and facing death...
Well actually my muse chose (not I), I was just too tired to fight her and just wise enough to let her take control for a change..
Upon completion, I turned to give her my sincere thanks.
I found that she had quickly far away fled
I found a rather interesting note instead
Here is the truth and best of it that I read
for these informative words she said
I hope soon into that dark shadow you step
so many a year now, I have grieved and wept
As my host you have given me great grief
your passing shall me gift me my relief
I wrote those verses giving me comfort and joy
to me you are just a sad and broken old toy
When into that shadow you may soon fall
I hope you crash into that giant fiery ball
Now leave me be, I want to take a long break
you are a cantankerous old man I forsake
Now folks, fear not, this note has often been read
wrote each of the hundreds of times she has fled
Later she comes back with words mellow and sweet
with presents and bowing while washing my feet
I forgive her each time and onward we race
I can not resist her lips, that beautiful face.
ALL WRITTEN WITH IMAGINATION AND LOADS OF POETIC LEEWAY....
Ideally yours truly prefers
a she/her who never got prosecuted for a felon,
yet who most deaf fin knit lee
possesses sound blinding killer instincts
think miracle worker Anne Sullivan
signifying rendering phenomenal success
with one female named re: amazing Helen
exhibiting discerning admirable qualities
constituting intelligent witty male
despite his/him sports haunch size of a melon.
I gently beckon inspiration
for dalliance with mother tongue
English Language, each
singular lettered manifestation
familiar to yours truly symbolized
by panoply, sans twenty six letters,
whereby this patient wordsmith
luxuriates, when writer's block
yields sudden gush,
nee burst of creativity
dissolving impenetrable wall
mental log jammed impasse,
discourages literary ambitions
dashed exerted forcefulness
'pon cerebral terra incognita
counterproductive grip locks
figurative drawbridge begetting
utmost frustration allowing egress
and ingress constituting obstructed surge
temporarily disabling free and clear
transmission between damned fount
barricading abundant bajillion ideas
silent at loggerheads clangor and din
analogous between unswerving enemies
prepared to fight till the death,
exhausting mental energy expended
attempting armistice with futile results,
hence quixotic oft repeated
time tested metaphor
i.e. deliberate pressure foisted
upon seat of aging cerebral matter
inadvertently coloring fist sized organ
at least fifty shades of gray,
versus unexpurgated brainstorming
linkedin with unfettered restraint
breeds favorable prodigious ideas
jotted/ typed stream of consciousness fashion
modus operandi favorable to engender
receptive access, asper (gas) excellent see
i.e. entrance untrammeled leeway
with minimal clash of opposing
titanic invisible entities
thus, aye abandon battering ram
to experience positive outcome
giving good n plenti profuse flood
unstoppable geyser spewing
plethora of appealing material
to arrange into cogent affinity,
energy, magnanimity and synchronicity!
Siege warfare (trumpeting)
average joe biden his time
linkedin with aberrant behavior
transpires within me mind,
(not just today December 5th, 2020,
but everyday/365)
warrants depleting stockpile arsenal
constituting exhausting mental health
uprooting deep seated repellent pesky
daunting lost cause.
Overruled by irrational thoughts,
I feebly muster a lame duck
half quacked comeback
(think home team cheering at pep rally)
against analogous figurative agents provocateur
said nemesis bore down hard
upon sense and sense abilities
mine psyche undergoing
blistering, hectoring withering, et cetera
courtesy ghost of Emily Brontë
mailer daemons flitting to and fro,
hither and yon within wuthering heights.
Another necessity Emma gin)
awoke prided prejudice
to confront head on
beastie boy foo fighting (Irish,
no matter genealogy regarding
yours truly Eastern European)
mine talking head housing
private insane asylum.
Incomprehensible thought processes
chronically spin out of control
dictate mandate NOT to wash hair
until at least one week passage of time,
(an arbitrarily chosen number
i.e. seven days convenient block)
even if appearance looks unkempt, slovenly
grungy, et cetera as nirvana seeking guy.
Thus, I readily admit self held hostage,
whereby loopy thought provoking patterns
hopelessly, grimly, futilely find me surrendering
NEVER eradicating down battened ramparts
neurotic, lunatic approved, idiotic
mind mental chattering
babbling jabbering gibberish
housing concocted village people
dead set against shampooing oily locks.
Quite a tussle (think metaphorical hair pulling)
ensues within me scrambled noggin,
whereby pathetic psychotic pummeling
win knows scrimmage
scoring touchdown amidst
teaming muted brouhaha
allowing, enabling, and providing
harmlessly insane nettlesome
pesky skewed notions
ridiculous leeway to predominate
until yours truly USDA
qualified, hashtagged, certified...
as grateful dead among human league.
Matthew's latest blank key
Impossible mission, nevertheless
I take figurative aim
to craft poem without
experiencing wrathful blame
avoiding explicitly, ignominiously, specifically...
referencing mine heterosexual counterpart
that infamous she,
whom did ruthlessly claim
yours truly as her husband
snatching mine happy
go lucky bachelorhood
two dozen plus decades ago
(revered singular status
belonging to me),
one latitudinally and longitudinally
i.e. height and weight challenged dame
during earlier years of our marriage
prone to prematurely ejaculate and exclaim
expletive laced epithets toward me
once burnt twice shy,
courtesy unidentified heartbreaker
nonetheless pledged
her troth and did coldly frame
wedded covenant predicted
on mutual (of Omaha)
perk hens pact regarding fidelity
abiding rules linkedin
with matrimonial adult game.
Henceforth any future
reasonable rhyme I crochet
with words must not mention
name of spouse lest she flay
these lovely bones
and verbally inveigh
husband hoot hook literary leeway
time gone by to broadcast blithely,
albeit electronically
which liberty not okay
the missus pointedly did relay.
No idea why personal details
(about myself) shared with zeal
(hoop fully to curry spicy reciprocity)
yours truly not exceptionally discriminatory,
when rusty cogs turn with much friction
barnacle encrusted cerebral
spongy bobbing square wheel
likened to (nails scraping
across chalkboard) -
which action evokes screeching squeal
an artifact of yesteryear school days
seen courtesy thirty five millimeter
black and white silent newsreel
portraying parochial
(baby boomer) kids
analogous to well trained dogs did heel
good luck heading toward
principal office filing lament better off
seeking devil (who wears Prada
or the latest couture) to appeal.