Long Legal tender Poems
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January twelfth two thousand and ten
October seventh two thousand eighteen
and again August fourteenth,
two thousand and twenty one
witnessed near annihilation and destruction
of the Haitian nation,
(especially courtesy first and third aforementioned)
whereby countless/ nameless individuals
e’en the strongest Herculean type men
crushed by humungous slabs of building facades
practically demolishing every creation
since this island settled,
which indigenous tribes initially sought safety
in any geologic den
seeking solace and salvation
from wrath of nature
by paying obeisance via oblation,
perhaps giving credence
to clear water in tandem with rooster and hen
that laid a golden egg, especially
as encroaching savages affected violation
particularly when Europeans
foisted forfeiture of land
with primitive implement like pen
no matter that travesty, trickery, mockery,
et cetera wrought humiliation
pleading invaders to forsake such actions
rent asunder culture beseeched divine force
argh inhumane brutish, nasty and (shortish)
simians (compared to 21st century Homo sapiens)
refused to cease desecration,
yet the peoples of this dominion
rose from the ashes like the phoenix like bird
no matter genetic pool
underwent white washing from scouring influx
from western thumping proselytizers,
which alien beliefs hard to swallow like curd
and basically bribery (with lustrous trinkets)
and those coveted legal tender bucks
foisted/ forced the unpleasant alternative
(wanton slaughter) to be clearly heard,
yet within the very fiber of tropical mangrove
persons patiently lined up their ducks
as intimated by this aging hippy type nerd,
and declared as the first
African American peoples spurred
INDEPENDENCE to be the word.
Her love was a parking garage kiosk
Take your ticket when you enter
The money saved is legal tender
Places money in the slot
Park the car in open spot
Her love was a parking garage kiosk
Promptly throws her arms around him
Said she'd never ,ever liked him
Plants a kiss right on the lips
As she's going leaves a tip
Her love's a parking garage kiosk
It's a different story different man
The miners gold is in the pan
Mounts with fury and with ease
Makes a slush fund if you please
Kiosk
Drive the car and the yellow mustang
Go to the moon and drink some Tang
She feels no guilt or no sorrow
Pays the ticket we"ll meet tomorrow
Park the car
Verizon router won't connect to internet blues
(alternately titled: ma bell heave hubble
telecommunications gone south).
Best sung courtesy rotten dull liver:red worst
after words which, I gotta quench mine thirst
whereby think Botox lips zipped and pursed
hence impossible linkedin mission Mary Jane
and Buster Brown kisser darn it result socked
hermetically resigned, resealed and cursed.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Atheistic credo fuels (fossil)
jeremiad ordaining undevout
finds me cybersurfing phishing
for poetic effort to tout
March sixth tooth house sand twenty two
presents reasonable rhyming lit writ scout
herewith risk averse longfellow
on his figurative er... route
along information superhighway.
Netizen (generic and garden variety) Cain
not, nor able to don virtualtourist Lausanne
guise, nor Kiev hen twitter among Ukraine
literati earlier today (aforementioned date)
afflicting me courtesy GMO webbed strain
iambic phantom metered node hissing drain
analogous to evaporating Lake Pontchartrain.
Cuz unwitting byte size complicit accessory ghost
haunts micro electronic components machine most
culpable, feasible, n invisible Internet Protocol host
laryngeal mucous phlegm wreaks (think) burnt toast
esophageal acid reflux analogous metaphor, I post
downplaying feeling any reason to rhyme or boast
spun words masterly sharecropped along east coast.
CHORUS:
verse one:
Now, I gotta cure dem rascally misbehavin
data packets between computer blues,
cuz internet fixation yaw truly craven
lobbying scattershot spewing colorful hell raisin
lingo (awk curse) strung expletive epithets
extraordinary Luddite across cyberspace will lose.
verse two:
Hence dial up local kindergartner to troubleshoot
while he/she whistles Mozart's The Magic Flute
or visit nearest zoo to hire nasty, and shortish brute
critical electronic hardware, cuz aye got absolute
zero ability and even less legal tender slangy loot
thus Internet loper feel handicapped as deaf mute
unable to hear auld Donald trumpeting slo vac toot.
(the following extrapolated
thought thread exercised,
NOT utilized to intimate
how Fats Domino belied,
and wowed a crowded house as-sized).
as a former ace procrastinator, i abhor
putting off doing what best ought
to get immediate attention bar
ring some extenuating dire circumstance,
sans mishap with flying car
pet case in point being unexpected a bomb
bin able crisis necessitating
hypothetical individual impossible
to remain calm
while in the process
(assisted with good ole mom)
to hoist self with one's own petard,
which emergency best warrant a re ward,
otherwise if fate doth NOT
require one to break
from ordinary business as usual
to enlist the "FAKE"
help of a grenadier,
who doth make
his/her livelihood
risking their life,
and limb without quake
king (obviously compensating bravery
as he/she doth stake
out mortal danger with adequate adorn
ing mortal kombat
with ample legal tender and/
or promising first born)
for unstinting mettle,
especially tolerating accompanying
martial baritone horn
player screech (like fingernails
scraping blackboard)
in close proximity - eliciting a scorn
ing glare from soldier spy
tinker tailor with a torn
smile while trained
special ops named Bjorn
incurs deadly hazard from one morn
to the next amidst adversity
shouldering care worn
Marine's motto semper fidelis,
which unnecessary loss of young life
predicated on add
age, viz being at the least,
a day late and dollar short egad
inadvertently dooming
princely valiant warmonger,
a mere stripling lad
whose mourning brings
heavy pallor of sad
ness, which imagined situation - aye
tangentially congruently analogous by
and by to the butterfly effect,
or sparrow's swan song i.e. die
destiny wrought, when one dost espy
a single occurrence no lie,
(the flickr ring, instagram
ming, kickstart ting well nigh
linkedin shutterfly of a butterfly)
say twerks catcher in the rye,
hence no matter how small, thee or thy
can change the course
of the universe forever,
no idea how nor why!
the leaders of tomorrow bravely take to the dais
justified their precious life,
liberty and pursuit of happiness -
stolen under their figurative nose)
asper an unparalleled heist
recouping quintessential basic human rights,
and will NOT yield an inch
(or any other minuscule amount),
if for no other reason
(and many more valid claims prevail)
such inalienable American birthrights
(codified decrees endowing freedoms -
tattered to shreds via frenzy of bullets)
guaranteeing harm inviolable unjustly out priced
sacrificed by lax second amendment spiced
within wanton murderous sprees wherein assassin
literally calls the shots (supplanting
assigned storied halls with din
of fire arms (acquired
from pennies on the dollar,
or bartered for a bottle of gin
within the underbelly (viz black market)
of society, where trigger happy jinn nee
as slaughter sans killing fields mount
with resignation vis a vis
tocollective shrugging shoulders prithee
and upend safe havens i.e. storied academic re:
deuce sing self preservation (UNFAIRLY)
to activist minded students tree
ting each day as a survivalist course, thus WE
as coined on legal tender (E Pluribus Unum)
MUST unite against love affair with pistols, no matter
one or more mere mortals
think Matthew Scott cray ZEE!
How many women here
have been impregnated
by Elon Musk? looking for hands
He plans to repopulate the planet
single handedly - well, not handed
exactly - you know what I mean.
In Australia, great swaths of Texas,
and of course Mar-a-Lago, he’s a serial offender,
because his sperm is legal tender.
Factoid: you might catch a disease,
he’s sleeping with everyone north of Belize
and several of them, frankly, look sleazy.
Of course, you’d have to listen to him talk. shivers
Unless you say, “Hey, can we do this without conversation?”
That’s when you’d slip on your sleep mask, and, well, you know.
But what would you be thinking about?
.
.
FUN! by KiNG MALA [E]
BLOODONTHETIMBS by Bren Joy [E]
Yup, you red correctly,
this noggin must go
perhaps donated
to the Salvation Army, or Good Will
cuz, said atrophied cranial
horridly styled comfortably numb skull,
the source of immeasurable
beg hot ten woe, from dawn to dusk
nothing boot eve ville
hollow cavity mainly comprised
of wooly webbed weaving waste,
uber sawdust, sans Schuylkill
River effluvium and runoff rotten rill
hence, e'en a think tank
designated as Abby Normal
formerly atop a body named Phil
lip, or Wright winged Orville
one half brotherly duo,
the other sibling Wilbur,
whom both made a mill
yen legends getting airborne their lil
mechanical contraption
atop Kitty Hawk,
North Carolina with bi sic kill
mechanical aptitude,
when born aloft Kill Devil Hill
synonymous making fin hushed
blue prints emulating
flying fish, whose grill
like cartilage backbone
precursor to Evil
Knievel, who soared
on his motorcycle a devil
lush daring stuntman,
whose helmeted crown
full pursestrings muted cavil
ling critics with legitimate enterprise
earning gobs of legal tender,
whence aye aver
his mugshot ought to appear
on common denomination bill
and/or honoring throughout
the entire month of April.
Small fortune already spent
to maintain 2009 Hyundai Sonata
(pray cuz I love genii, or even mirthful
teletubby heaven sent)
compromising financial means to pay rent,
telecommunications service provider (Verizon),
electric company (PECO), sparking pent
up rage against the machine money meant
to buffer panic attacks
springing up like Jack in the box
yet, yours truly feels his soul got lent
to the devil, impossible mission
peace of mind out of reach for this gent
and the misses forced in poor house
alms reached out
imploring cosmic consciousness
me equal decent
fellow asking please
dole out at least one red cent
with quite a few right sided zeros
before decimal point
to relieve soul searing ailment.
Nor can yours truly afford
a new preowned vehicle
perhaps dismal circumstances
will witness me pedaling
preschool sized tricycle
generating stares aplenty quizzical
bystanders, especially kids
pointing out overgrown practical
joker, many grownups
look twice dismissing optical
illusion concluding meshugganah
mister man maniacal,
nonetheless entire crowd
coon sitters me hysterical.
Thus hoop fully explains zit
all regarding why I writ
silly poem about me,
a pedal pushing panhandler twit
(jab only fore sake of poem),
who wheely did quit
the madcap rat race
cold turkey working for nonprofit
named Matthew Scott Harris,
he sports fifty shades of gray matter
boasting memory equalling one kilobit
more than adequate as Herman's hermit
petsmart exuding blissful esprit
de corp sometimes volunteering
with Smokey as his fiery bandit.
If ja happen to espy
older pencil necked geek
most popular within
of enclave Battle Creek,
cuz, constitutes major producer
comprising breakfast cereal of champions
just toss legal tender into sleek,
the only pot I got to piss'n
actually a family heirloom antique
sold to me on grandfather's deathbed.
(alternatively titled eldest daughter despises us)
Eden (beloved eldest daughter) icy
flat tone of voice spoke volumes,
when she talked with the missus and me
courtesy cellular telecommunications key
December twenty seventh
two thousand nineteen
unwavering listless dull verbalization see
I subsequently told spouse, she
thy super smart self reliant progeny
fending for herself approximately
last half dozen years exhibits je
ne sais quois profound loathing
predicated growing up dirt poor free
quint lee lamenting deprivations re:
guarding legal tender adequate specie
i.e. money - at least compared to every
MainLine millionaire flush with dee -
suppose able income, and oft times
lovingly, pleasantly, unexpectedly...
receiving largasse gift horse courtesy
zayda (my father), who art not yet
in heaven sprung monetary help, ye
this second born and only son did
profusely think him (papa) lee
ving voice messages on his landline,
and tracfone, plus wrote heartfelt poem,
similar acknowledgement modus operandi,
when said offspring
became twenty three
years old - five days ago, nonetheless thee
admirable, dependable, honorable... née
holds Matthew Scott (namely he),
who helped beget
darling feels angry,
and doth plainly exhibits contempt
(you) dear reader guessed correctly
towards sorrowful dada,
where inescapable thralldom
doth invisibly chain
(think ghost of Marley)
apologetic sir, whose
precious kinder, I
will unwaveringly cherish
forever love and Revere
despite up Paul ling
destitution, grinding linkedin penury,
and red hot poker faced
anger, yes... dismay
prevails how unforgiving
once (Benny sent) baby,
inside joke, I attest neigh
scent "star student,"
now grown young woman,
no longer - figuratively
wrapped around yours
truly her finger
father who fell short, natively cree
hated abhorrent within re
cent mammary, bosom (hers)
harboring scathing unmasked vee
hum mint, blistering, rancorous,
seething, volcanic withering...,
no matter disgusting revulsion
toward aging mommy
and repentant daddy,
I LOVE YE EDEN + SHANA!
Collaboration with Marcello Eans
I wonder from above, “Was I ever one of them?”
It’s easy to feel small in a universe so vast.
What kind of lives have I lived and where have I been?
Why can’t I remember anything from my past?
I’d like to think that I was a ruler of many,
Leading my people in the best way I knew how.
I think to myself, “How wonderful it must be,
To live a normal life on Earth in the here and now.”
Was I ever in the Oval Office, World Trade Center,
Guest at The Last Supper, Nobel Peace Prize winner?
Saint or sinner, male or female gender?
Worked hard for the money, or illegal for legal tender?
Parent to one or several, sibling to some,
Yearn to experience emotion, but my feelings are numb.
Bone chilling to some, my desire to be part of this EARTH,
Surrounded by family & friends celebrating the day of my birth.
I do remember one thing from a former life of mine.
It was a little over two thousand years ago.
I was friends with a man who changed water into wine.
He saved my life and told me I’d never be alone.
There was something about him that made me feel safe inside.
So, I followed him on his journey until his very last day.
He once said he had special plans for me after I died.
I was given wings and I chose to help others find their way.