Long Marital Poems
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Bedlam and mayhem in the mistress's boudoir
(Nsync with variations on a theme:
various and sundry
pseudo lurid fictitious escapades)
mostly I did merrily wet
whet madness aye ever did dream.)
The missus personal trappings
strewn helter skelter
every perilous step fraught
with danger analogous
riding as passenger
with death cab for cutie
'course thy quasi bohemian rhapsodic Queen
of denial feigns ignorance
attributes hazardous condition
linkedin with accident prone
little lord Fauntleroy's
double doppelganger, me
trumpeting pet husband,
her unrequited germane Liebchen
willing to risk life and limb
doting hand and foot
as proper husbandly duties.
He (ahem... me) exhibits drama
whimsically visiting slapstick pantomime
especially pretending to remove sneakers
pulling with all my feeble strength
off little feet of wife
half-heartedly struggling,
lamely denouncing marriage
nevertheless conveying jollity
regarding marital entrapment
er... rather unbridled wedded bliss
constituting fits and starts enduring
about two dozen years.
I reciprocated amorousness,
whether toward MaryAnne,
(his long ago coldly dismissed
sagacious enchanting first paramour,
(half a dozen years my senior),
whose astrological forecast
accurately predicted promising
acquaintanceship/relationship
potential soul mates
(two score years ago -
gone to naught),
which latter aforementioned humble lass
decried he fomented
incessant emotional grief,
he cruelly (albeit unwittingly)
doled out nothing
but lackluster lovelessness
attributed to identical zodiac signs (Capricorn)
(matter of fact shared same birth date
January 13th - six years age difference)
stubborn misconstrued perception,
whereby fancy free and footloose
selfish nasty short brute nevertheless
deemed himself undeserving of love - humph!
Addeneum: Approximately four decades
re: one quarter century after
aforementioned baptismal initiation
love stricken paroxysm
forty fifth president of United States
took (i.e. plagiarized) many pages courtesy,
cruel playbook authored
by Matthew Scott Harris,
the book DELBO, is a story about a Docter who did a
" word gathering study" which measures the degree of
a woman's deceit. Instead of saying that certain
patterns were derived from
DNA, the Docters attached microphones to sons
of unmarried mothers
and did the same to the sons of married mothers.
certain patterns were discovered( see the chart).
the Docters looked to have further study , they
sought couples that had planned to divorce,
but would use counseling to solve their marital mix-up.
so they attached two micro-phones one a dud and
the other a live wire, ( the dud would activate only
at certain times). Certain areas of the study centered
on the deviant actions of the woman,
was she honest in her answers of the males question.
did she lie to the son, about things.
did she hide truths from him.
did she or was she part of whatever or whoever, is and was against him.
did she make conditions to be, by her actions.
di she make him responsible for the welfare of another, when he was
lied to or in the influence of her lies.
did she provide away of correcting what she lied about.
and did she allow the males in the family the same opportunity for
medical attention as she would allow the females( did she take the males to the Urologist, the same way she'd have taken the females to the (gonnocoligist)
…..
this study outraged woman, who had been allowed to lie and dispend there boys, and treat them as she would treat her females. This knowing their biology is different.
Crown me a thief tonight and crucify me to condemnation
For I covet and must pilfer the pintle of this alluring stranger
I shall taste of another woman's pleasure
And trade my dignity for a moment's lust
Forsake thy marital vows for a minute o Adam
And relish every bit of my feminine wonder
Though you stand in firmness now
Between my thighs shall your mantle bow
I compel you to lead me into a world of erected ecstasy
Feel the softness of my flesh tonight for at dawn I shall be gone
Spread me beneath your warmth and with all rigidity dig deeply
Make every new stroke deeper than the one you gave before
Your strength and virility shall I borrow
Knowing it denies me tomorrow
Satisfy your craving and bloat on my eden
Sweeter is the experience when pronounced forbidden
Unmask your carnality and caress me in your arm
This enticing temptress shall surrender to your adulterous charm
Be my vanquisher tonight! Shake me and conquer my walls
Awaken and rekindle the fire of my womanly being
Let us make every moment count as we enjoy this sinful call
For if the world is but sinful,what greater harm is our subtle sin?
By:Elisabeth .O. Adams
LizDiamond World Of Poetry
courtesy sharp pointed objects
(that string of words
doth hoop fully connive fist
(cuffed) around handles of knife
discounting divorce (from wife)
i.e. remaining uncoupled
mandated eventually note hissed
unbridled love and apology
toward thee missus and progeny
who forever did blacklist
das scribe, how objectionable
now, he profusely kissed
mouth of other voluptuous
(zoftig) older women
(consensually, flatteringly, indiscriminately)
and amazingly enough spouse did insist
to forgive, boot never forget.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder
thus very little paternal (filial) love expressed
and she chose to live yonder
Oakland, California her temporary dwelling
no matter, her papa blatantly confessed
YES, more'n his eye did wonder.
At present petty coated junction irreparable schism
doth rank as horrendous on par me adopting fascism
forever sullied image ("daddy's girl")
who once thought the world of me
selfish misdeeds buzzfeeding swelling egoism
no more how enlightened I became
ex post facto, pure unconditional acceptance
refracted light risque behavior thru prism
where primary parental accountability
not satisfactorily explained away courtesy
Darwinism (to seed genes), nor chauvinism,
whereby ever since time immemorial
men disregarded and hardened libido
against marital covenant.
a serene lake on a moonlight night,
as she paddles her canoe away,
far into distance where it shines bright,
in gentle breeze water lilies sway.
her hopes are lit she would meet her dreams,
that warmth and lips that such young hearts yearn,
she scours in shadows between moon beams,
a lost effort in daily sojourn.
knock on the door brings her to morning,
wiping the sadness of a lost hope,
turning she smiles at her love snoring,
she had with whom tied marital rope!
dreams and hearts can be split in two parts.
9 syllables with abab rhyme sequence
except the last line with a rhyme within.
I am with you, with me you are-
That’s our divine bond of amour.
You are clear, transparent, distinct
Never confusing own instinct.
Path of life most bumpy, uneven
through many hurdles to drive in.
Road is stony, rocky, thorny.
We feel free on joint journey.
You will make every day full bright.
Your charm will enlighten each night.
In my sorrow you will shed tears.
In your joy I will smile for years.
You are my best friend in each step.
I always depend on your help.
We ! Made for each other in life.
Me, Husband : You, My loving wife.
BS ON PS
The attitude of some folk I find quite abhorrent
Poets shouldn’t be guilt tripped into leaving a comment
No one knows what is going on in our life
depression or illness that’s causing us strife
Tragic loss of a pet, family member or friend
or awaiting a life coming close to an end
Maybe marital trouble has knocked them of course
and sadly they're going through a complicated divorce
Perhaps the poet is enjoying a luxury cruise
or maybe they’ve lost their much treasured muse
As a child I was taught, as I recall
to say something nice or nothing at all
I'll not lie saying a poem was well done
just to leave a comment for someone
So why are some 'sheeple' so quick to condemn
and stir the soup pot by causing more mayhem?
LET ER RIP #3 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Lawless
06/27/21
It was a Bikers wedding.
All the Chapter were there
In brightly coloured leathers
And freshly washed hair.
They escorted them off
To the start of their new life
As Mister and Mrs,
Husband and wife.
They looked forward to consumation
With such anticipation and delight,
They thrilled and pleased each other
Through that first exciting night.
Their first born nicknamed ZedBed,
Her twin sister Reception,
In remembrance of the sites of
Their Possible Conception.
All the time they were married
He called her his Treasure
She called him her Source
Of Rich and Constant Pleasure..
A necklace filled with ashes
Worn always next to her skin
An almost electric contact
From his remains therein.
A matching bracelet for hers
When she herself moved on:
For their friends and family
Two rays of brightness gone.
The girls wore those ashes
With reverence and pride
As the last of The Chapter
Took them on a final ride.
Old friends and
Old familiar faces
Accompanying them to loved
And remembered places.
A solemn yet joyous procession
From a now empty marital home,
All leathers brightly coloured, all
Hogs agleam with bright chrome.
Each had a Bikers funeral.
All the Chapter were there
In brightly coloured leathers
And freshly washed hair.
They escorted them off
At the end of each life
Goodbye Mister and Mrs,
Goodbye husband and wife.
a secret rendezvous in the woodlands
trees dripping with soft morning dew
moss giving rise to our mounting desire
oaks seeding life and naked adventure
pining for cones of passion and pleasure
nature knows best how to release sorrow
in bed with soft undergrowth and canopies
base instincts foundations of new growth
an ocean of love passion and kindness
drift wood for shelter pebbles and shells
summer storms surfing a shoreline retreat
beach hut full of memories and reflections
tanned skin beach towels and seaweed
fog horns a lighthouse guidance and sun
flooding remembrance high tides of joy
nude commemoration of the cycle of life
mountains ridge in tune with our raw union
waterfalls cascades rapids wild water rides
meandering streams join a delta of delight
a kestrel approves and showers ovations
hollowed in granite resolve a cavern invites
to get in touch with karma and circular path
of an earth spinning tell tale meaning of life
a short spell of warmth after a timely solstice
while logs on winter fires gather in our souls
marshmallows melt on their own suspense
lavender scent mixes with cinnamon fragrance
mingles in anticipation of mid afternoon glow
as the days become shorter our longing remains
joins our blessed hips mindful of marital promise
the pure knowledge of winter heightens the moment
for when we get old our youth still holds us together
27th June 2020
In three billion years the sun dies, Earth with it and the ring around Saturn too.
When will the apple fall?
Will it fall close or roll?
The apple rots eventually, the tree forgets and fly’s brains are too minuscule to understand at all how to mourn.
Grey hairs mean death.
It starts with the milk teeth twisted out, in blood and pain - experience is necessary for the end, I suppose.
How feelings infect the stomach then implode in a cloud of stardust that consumes Neptune’s ice cold handshake.
All this inevitable, repeatable for a few billion years.
And yet we worry of what is to come in the next fifty or so.
A death in the family - dominoes topple.
A spanner in the gut that wrenches and pulls and ties in knots all coherent thoughts.
A language of dashes and dots rattles with haste before the soul, mind, brain, spirit, heart and living tissue rots.
All the while pulsars rotate with a common rhythm but how beautiful it is that we must do the same:
To live and to breathe and to walk amongst start dust we must all just be dying stars.
A second in a black hole bends to a year.
A neutron star collapses a decade to a minute and we worry when or why or how the future may proceed.
As does Mars when his soul settles down and he marries, starts a family, then worries of his daughter’s daughter’s marital status.
The apple that hit the nail on the head rolled down the hill and was kicked into space to orbit, forever, Gaia’s deepest woes.
The same dust that it conceived flows through our veins today.
The pulsars vision of a continued rhythm is humanity’s constant dream.
All cosmic terror and dread, worries the same as an apple that is used to be bitten, a human that is conceived to indulge themselves in a pool of lifelong anxiety and a pulsar dreading the next time it beats.
That beat may never come.