Long Mishmash Poems
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Greetings, hello I just know
Alpha line poetry's a toxic write
Demented moment my muse is slow
Brainpower dormant, what a plight!
Loves magic's now over, pain
Loss endured feeling sorrow
no use ranting nothing to gain
Speechless lament colours tomorrow.
A bashful cavalier dreams everynight
Images filled with yearning hunger
Sparkling blue eyes will at last delight
His bleak lonely life torn asunder.
Contest
Alpha Lines
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Deadline August 26/08/2021
I have a feeling this Alpha Line poem is not as precise as it should be, my apologies if this is the case.
Yours truly borrows a phrase
courtesy the great bard
also known as
William Shakespeare's Hamlet:
"For 'tis the sport ...
Hoist by one's own petard
meaning "victimized or hurt
by one's own scheme”.
The aforementioned excerpt
hopefully describes the fate
to befall president of Russia.
Nevertheless, unseen
talon sharp claws...
dig deep into mine
psyche soft underbelly
piercing bedrock of
core (puss) being
akin to butter knife
slicing thru peanut
butter and jelly
unable to preserve
an iota of calm
while stuck in said
emotional jarring state,
which eruption of cataclysmic
agitation analogous to a bomb
going off inside my head,
where a mishmash
of frenzied discombobulated
brainstorming angst doth glom,
whereat the "little boy"
inside this man
called for his mom,
who when this aging
"baby boomer" chap
just a kid and experienced
devastating, jarring,
and paralyzing tom
malt chew hiss in dom
mitt able inexplicable fear,
though NO obvious
danger threatened, NOR
warning signaled "BEWARE,"
nonetheless adrenaline
coursed from head
to toe as if clear
and present harm
lurked quite near,
inducing a host of
physiological fallout symptoms
darkly freighting this
sole son with nightmarish scare,
whereat no escape,
nor exit no matter
how fast a sprinting tear
found me running
mile a minute only
to end up nowhere,
except smackdab right
in the same place
in relation to despair,
which translates to mean...
yours truly could not
run and hide,
as quickly made clear
to me then, and now,
though at present
scores years older, the balm
courtesy of prescription
medication popped inside
mouth from palm
olive smoothed hands,
as if this teetotaler
betook himself prom
men aiding albeit
with tumblerful of liquor
getting feigning noggin all a jam
aware that nothing amiss,
would be evident,
sans lower gastrointestinal exam,
nonetheless diet
restricted to graham
crackers and broth
distilled from ham
hock, once again thwarting
vegetarian ambitions damn!
Embarkation upon meditation...
Believe me you upon manifestation
regarding Das godaddy bing linkedin
with avast cosmic consciousness
self induced light hypnotic trance
I become enthralled
unless wife disrupts intent concentration
calling out "Matt...Matt...Matt"
bajillion times Googleplex
(slight hyperbole for literary effect),
subsequently courtesy
disembodied voices
deliver poetic inspiration
without forcefully summoned,
rather gently coax (zeal lust lee)
amidst Smokey and Bandits spiritus mundi
plethora of discordant
indistinct jabbering murmurs
requiring exacting golong strategy
kickstarting coalescence regarding
faintest hint analogously harboring
shipping news a boat
reeling in catch of the day
thus, fingers snakishly
slither skitter, sidle
at greased lightning pace
across Macbook Pro laptop keyboard
feverishly unleashing
unexpected brainstorming tsunami
recalling steely apothegm
strike while the iron iz hot,
thus such epiphany occurred
moments ago - in case
ye heard "Eureka" shouted
loud, free and clear
without moment to lose
yours truly brooked
stream of consciousness
ignoring flash flood warnings
slapped down one after another
figurative pontoon bridge
all the while skirting
eddies, whirlpools, fierce whitecaps
fortunately hauling unexpected
magnificent linkedin kindled
sense and sensibility
yours truly rendered speechless
(most time non verbal when writing),
additionally hodgepodge mashup
offers no rhyme nor reason,
yet burst of pooled
imponderable gushing silent spring
(courtesy ghost of Rachel Carson)
currently did flickr
demanding immediate typing
though poetic license expired
please don't tell commission,
nor chief word den
these unpredictable eruptions
(most likely indistinguishable
turkey in the straw gobbledygook
to the untrained eye),
rather good n plenti
camouflaged indecipherable creativity
(nope, not even practiced experts
keen on esoteric etymological arts)
stymied to understand)
mine swiftly styled harry tailored
gibberish oh baying avant
(to assign long sentence
upon Matthew Scott),
which "FAKE" premature ejaculation
incorporating poppycock mishmash
screened for your viewing discomfort
unbelievably came to this homeless tramp,
while he plodded across no man's land
with hud door hubble mojo risin.
Oy vey iz mir, one day in the life of a common house broken schmeckle...,
who did pötschke
and squander many an opportunity
to become a mensch
instead he became persona non grata
condemned to a history of misery,
not unlike Doctor Hyde and Mister Jekyll,
where friends, Romans countrymen did heckle.
After all said and done,
I best have stayed
safe and sound in the womb,
or hopefully at the least honored after death
with a squadron of B-52s
flying overhead with vroom
while being enshrined in a tomb,
cuz the living years of yours truly (me),
one after another trial and tribulation did loom
which figurative weave
courtesy weft and warp wove gloom
ordained I experienced hell on earth,
thus an inescapable doom
left no option except to skadaddle
into the outer limits of the twilight zone
at the edge of night
courtesy magic broom.
Plenty of times,
I ate in a crowded house,
where the crawdads sing
sinking their teeth into cranberries, meatloaf
and red hot chili peppers
served with a side order of pop slop
don't be put off by the name,
which mishmash actually yum zook,
nevertheless cuisine fiends spurred a tussle
where flock of seagulls
who got into a spat took
sparring mates to the cleaners
with angry yardbirds twittering about xyz,
and tweeting when loosely translated
into English language essentially meant
much ado about floccinaucinihilipilification,*
(Sounds like
flaa·suh·now·suh·nai·uh·luh·pi·luh·fuh·kay·shn)
according to legendary interpretation
by expert ornithologist with keen insight
rivaling that of the eagles
known for their skill playing chess
ofttimes, use an upside-down rook
to designate a queen
under United States chess federation
rules and in casual play take a look
for yourself, rather than believe amateur
what might be considered poppycock hook
line and sinker qualifying as gobbledygook,
which utter nonsense I did cook
up, yet please feel welcome my gibberish to brook
*the estimation of something as worthless.
Unseen talon sharp claws...
dig deep into mine
psyche soft underbelly
piercing bedrock of
core (puss) being
akin to butter knife
slicing thru peanut
butter and jelly
unable to preserve
an iota of calm,
which eruption of cataclysmic
agitation analogous to a bomb
going off inside my head,
where a mishmash
of frenzied discombobulated
brainstorming angst doth glom,
whereat the "little boy"
inside this man
called for his mom,
who when this aging
"baby boomer" chap
just a kid and experienced
devastating, jarring,
and paralyzing tom
malt chew hiss in dom
mitt able inexplicable fear,
though NO obvious
danger threatened, NOR
warning signaled "BEWARE,"
nonetheless adrenaline
coursed from head
to toe as if clear
and present harm
lurked quite near,
inducing a host of
physiological fallout symptoms
darkly freighting this
sole son with nightmarish scare,
whereat no escape,
nor exit no matter
how fast a sprinting tear
found me running
mile a minute only
to end up nowhere,
except smackdab right
in the same place
in relation to despair,
which translates to mean...
yours truly could not
run and hide,
as quickly made clear
to me then, and now,
though at present
scores years older, the balm
courtesy of prescription
medication popped inside
mouth from palm
olive smoothed hands,
as if this teetotaler
betook himself prom
men aiding albeit
with tumblerful of liquor
getting feigning noggin all a jam
aware that nothing amiss,
would be evident,
sans lower gastrointestinal exam,
nonetheless diet
restricted to graham
crackers and broth
distilled from ham
hock, once again thwarting
vegetarian ambitions damn!
Everywhere I look, glittering buds
Blessing away the past
Restoring hope to overcast skies
Breathing joy through the dark
Painting hearts with the wonders of love
Everywhere, I see music blossoming
At the edges of the trees
On softly flowing creeks
Beneath the mossy forest timbers
Amid the gentle of savory September
Along the ridges of each mountain peak
During the summer and after autumn’s leaves
Comes a moment between grace and peace
When afternoon rolls into twilight’s praise
With the still, cool whisper of a song to amaze
Calling on the heart who believes, He is
Who He says He is…
Amid the birth of Spring’s softest hues, blushing
Silent as the trembling beauties of June
Erasing the glare of sun’s truth as Autumn consumes
All the moments with a heady feeling of soothing,
In His garden, there grows the mishmash, weeping
Petals, stories of burgundy, indigo and yellow
Falling over the spirit who remembers….
All the beauty, all the wistful – the song of life
In the star’s glowing bright, softest sighs
Beneath silhouettes of moonlight and joy
Comes the flowing of a love far more alive
Than any poem I can write – He is the wonder
Who guides the bright….
He is wise as the still cool light
Arising from the heart who knows Him
As the nurturing warmth beyond grief
The gentle voice who speaks from the wind
Even the flowers praise Him with the restful still
Who teases the heart to hear His will
He is love that will eternally fulfill
I do not hold myself to time trumpets,
no list of things to do schedule for me;
but I follow my own true north compass,
I am unconstrained and unrestrained free !
Facing each new day with rapture and glee,
perhaps you think my life a mishmash mess;
but I embrace life in each free will breath,
filling days with joie de vivre bliss.
My words written on white are God caressed;
joy- chaos of the pen and the abyss !
Because of no restrictions I have peace,
I am not enslaved to a list of things;
letting go of "must" and "need" a release,
and each dawn a new beginning it brings !
And my spirit, mind, heart and soul has wings,
you may think my life a muddle jumble;
that cannot endure and will soon crumble.
but truth, I never know what will sparkle !
Enjoying each "in the moment" tumble;
for in time- I will be engraved marble !
________________________
November 4, 2021
Poetry/Dizainx2/Unconstrained and Unrestrained
Copyright Protected, ID 11-1403-576-04
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, Agendaless Exuberance
sponsor, Unseeking Seeker, Judged 11/27/2021
First Place
Modern migration and intermingling of races and cultures has trashed ancestry.
The world has become a mishmash, a hotch-potch
as cultures and languages fuse, blend and meld.
Knowing your origin and roots now means very little now
as what was there before, your origins and ancestry, have long gone.
It is so sad to see your old home renovated, or worse demolished.
In Queensland, Australia, many of the old wooden Queenslanders
get transported and sold off in old home parks.
There they are aligned in rows in a plot in park, for sale,
ancestral homes rid of memories and context.
If you are very smart you can trace where your old Queenslander went.
You can go on a trip and see it lobbed into its new address.
Very disturbing, to see your home transported and in foreign hands and lands,
But that is all that is left to do, to trace and refresh your memories.
We expect the past to be just the same as it used to be
like a photograph we expect our ancestry to be frozen in time.
But time marches on trashing the past, insensitive to how we want it to be.
Isolation is what help cultures develop their unique identity
In Australia, there were about 600 different clan groups or 'nations'
around the continent when Europeans arrived, many with distinctive cultures and beliefs.
Most have now gone, now there are fewer than 60,
many, many languages and cultures now lost, forever.
Modern mobility and movement of people means that no new cultures can develop in isolation.
In the past the isolation allowed two human cousin species to co-exist with *****sapiens in ancient time.
*****naledi lived in isolated pockets in Africa.
*****floresiensis lived isolation on the island of Flores in Indonesia.
Now that would be something,
to trace your ancestry back to one of these ancient species.
Humans have stopped evolving through inherited variations
both physically and culturally.
Ancestry is now an endangered species, fossilized.
Impatient floodwaters at dams
Waiting for shutters to open,
A hodgepodge of puppets
Excited to perform: at deep slumber,
Waiting for my eyes to close,
The naughty byproducts of my brain!
I fly, glide: liberating!
I sing with a celebrity: enthralling!
I reach a different galaxy: wondering!
I flow with a river: murmering!
I see the illusory Utopia: interesting!
I meet a hero of a great epic: marvelling!
I chat with my childhood friend: giggling!
Also I get to see and feel
The serenity and purity of Heaven: glorifying!
I find myself lost in a maze: panicking!
I reach late to office: frustrating!
I see hideous monsters: quivering!
I get my opinions rejected: estranging!
I get chased by a stranger: panting!
I feel frozen and unable to move: benumbing!
Also I see vortex of smoke spiralling
At the centre of time and space: terrifying!
A mishmash of baffling events,
A drama with no sequence,
Trains take turns unexpected
At the criss-cross tracks; characters arrive:
Some much awaited; some not so,
To enact - breaking all logic.
Sometimes in the middle of sleep
I romance the vivid archipelagoes,
The stunning reefs, turquoise lagoons,
And the distant palm-fringed bays;
I wake up with a start and see darkness
Engulfing pitch black dark: despairing,
As opposed to splendid landscape: hitherto
Soothed my senses unbeknownst to me!
Striking contrast - seize my joy!
My eyelids droop and my eyes again
Succumb to slumber gracefully.
As sleep flows once more,
smoothly, gently and rapidly,
My fav sceneries reappear nimbly:
The archipelagoes, reefs, and lagoons,
Back from where they left me;
Broken threads fixed, my spirit revives!
A lost child finding his way
Reaching his mother's arms overjoyed!
Desires and wishes unconscious,
Experiences frightening and disturbing,
Pop up as dreams: the craftwork of brain.
Amidst mixed emotions I float, drown,
And as alarm bell rouses me
To meet the new dawn, I wake up:
Refreshed, peaceful, and content,
A sound sleep I did get.
Also reminding myself that
Its time to enact now:
The Drama of Life!
The drama with sequences, of course!
S'more sprawling poppycock
Chock·a·block discombobulated poem
for your reading pleasure
dashed off ad hoc
my final literary endeavor before
hour hand affixed
to intricately carved cuckoo clock
displaying carved leaves, birds,
deer heads (Jagdstück design),
other animals, aquatic militia man,
etc feigns firing flintlock
(announcing onset of
daylight savings times)
said French soldier christened Jacque
dipping paddles of oarlock
into time stream
as the sun beats down,
he doth shockingly unfrock.
Once again modest wily word wizard
sports, struts his stuff inarguably
a blinding blizzard
of poetic gumbo mumbo jumbo,
his convoluted crafted vizard
easily misinterpreted as offal
lee batty, quirky, snooty, trippy...
who honestly doesn't know A from izzard.
The ticking seconds will not wait
while yours feebly cobbles etches
across blank figurative slate
lame resultant impasse I narrate
experiencing disappointment
earlier spurt of balderdash,
gibberish, rubbish... which I hate
yet must suffice impossible mission
to complete satisfactory poem does agitate.
Vainglorious idea to employ
daylight savings time
even a mediocre reasonable rhyme
futile effort finds current strife prime
juncture to breakaway
and resume later nighttime or
call writing aspiration quits
crowded house that for being sublime?
Unlikely literary pursuit or aim
will find yours truly a best seller
never experiencing accolades
nor remuneration to claim
truth be told, cuz I haint seeking
neither fortune nor fame.
The principle impetus explaining zeal
to discipline generic human to hone
his ability, where basic blocks of English
language (words) linkedin incorporating
mental cogs and gears mesh
making (mishmash) as figurative wheel
in the sky keeps on turning
perhaps divine intervention
intercedes as yours truly takes
lock, stock, and barrel of himself, one
bumbling, grumbling, tumbling schlemiel
cue hapless characteristic vagrant tramp
as viewed courtesy black and white newsreel
enroute to meet cobbler, cuz worn out heel
actually kind individual stopped to offer hobo
an uber lyft courtesy fancy automobile.