Long Moo Poems
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There is, in the Los Angeles area, a well-known brand of milk, called Alta Dena. Near also,
is the city named Alta Dena, and my grandson lives there. I asked him if he had seen the dairy there, and he told me that it does not exist. I then asked him if he had seen herds of milk cattle there and he said that he had not, and doubted that there were any. Of course I wondered why the milk had such a name, and jokingly asked him to look for at least one cow in the city, since it was well built-up, and there were no obvious open pastures at all. I told him that we could only conclude that it this had to b a very famous and rare cow that could supply all the milk needed by a large urban dairy, and thus must be insured, protected from the idle public, and secreted in some private home where she would not be disturbed. The whole story and speculation grew into a riotous family "search" for this wondrous animal. I, of course, ask my grandson each week when I see him, for a progress report on the search. Finally, I have decided to turn it into a poem:
A Search Continues
Something very hush-hush is going on
and Alta Dena folk aren't going to tell.
All cowdom secreted within its bovine lair
yet Bo would stare contentedly at us
with no incursive moo directed at the hellish
vine that she must eat, in lieu of meadow grass.
That ever-present cud must still
be masticated; yea, her celebrated udder
must be filled.
Yet none admit to having sighted her.
Beastiana though she be, no Altadenian
will dare so much as low on her behalf,
no bull, Eden-bound, is ready to exchange
his bold, testicular desire
to service mewling ruminants
who merely run away.
Nay, uncowed are they, though cowed they be,
and cowards not--and if you do not see
their wisdom, chalk it up to power,
Bo's mammary magnificence, so easily
in jeopardy before a single squeeze,
not of a nipple but a trigger
thus applied, and speeding out of sight.
Challenge, indeed, our quest to find
this noble and prolific queen
who dominates with graceful quietude
her milky empire slurping quite
without a care, lush liquid destined
not to slosh within her, rather
in those tumescent tummies
ever crying out for more.
Would I betray them for a share?
Of course. Away with those content
to sour the milk of human kindness
with deception. Let the search go on!
~
………………………………………………………………
H
Ha
Hap
Happ
Happy
Happy o
Happy or
Happy or d
Happy or de
Happy or dep
Happy or depr
Happy or depres
Happy or depress
Happy or depresse
Happy or depressed
Happy or depresse
Happy or depress
Happy or depres
Happy or depre
Happy or depr
Happy or dep
Happy or de
Happy or d
Happy or
Happy o
Happy
Happ
Hap
Ha
H
L
Li
Lif
Life
Life i
Life is
Life is a
Life is a b
Life is a ba
Life is a bal
Life is a bala
Life is a balan
Life is a balanc
Life is a balanci
Life is a balancin
Life is a balancing
Life is a balancing a
Life is a balancing ac
Life is a balancing act
Life is a balancing ac
Life is a balancing a
Life is a balancing
Life is a balancin
Life is a balanci
Life is a balanc
Life is a balan
Life is a bala
Life is a bal
Life is a ba
Life is a b
Life is a
Life is
Life i
Life
Lif
Li
L
S
So
So e
So ea
So eas
So easy
So easy t
So easy to
So easy to s
So easy to sl
So easy to sli
So easy to slip
So easy to slip a
So easy to slip an
So easy to slip and
So easy to slip and f
So easy to slip and fa
So easy to slip and fal
So easy to slip and fall
So easy to slip and fal
So easy to slip and fa
So easy to slip and f
So easy to slip and
So easy to slip an
So easy to slip a
So easy to slip
So easy to sli
So easy to sl
So easy to s
So easy to
So easy t
So easy
So eas
So ea
So e
So
S
M
Mo
Moo
Mood
Moods
Moods t
Moods th
Moods tha
Moods that
Moods that f
Moods that fa
Moods that fal
Moods that fall
Moods that fall c
Moods that fall ca
Moods that fall can
Moods that fall can r
Moods that fall can ri
Moods that fall can ris
Moods that fall can rise
Moods that fall can rise a
Moods that fall can rise ag
Moods that fall can rise aga
Moods that fall can rise agai
Moods that fall can rise again
Moods that fall can rise agai
Moods that fall can rise aga
Moods that fall can rise ag
Moods that fall can rise a
Moods that fall can rise
Moods that fall can ris
Moods that fall can ri
Moods that fall can r
Moods that fall can
Moods that fall ca
Moods that fall c
Moods that fall
Moods that fal
Moods that fa
Moods that f
Moods that
Moods tha
Moods th
Moods t
Moods
Mood
Moo
Mo
M
………………………………………………………………
Wait for tomorrow’s new day
Any foodie on the brink
Of getting moody thinks
Of the dear dairy panacea
The culinary kinks
The cultural links
Gourmet high jinx
Of no.. not Cullen skink
CHEESE
As drinks clink then sink
Where the nods & the winks
Go to the food of the Gods
The stuff that really really stinks
CHEESE
A noble global endeavour
Arty farty dolcelatte party
Comte & cheddar
Smutty nutty double header
CHEESE
Palette caged by a rare
Cave aged Gruyere
Who can forget..appetite whet
Heat light stand manned..expands..
Milky glue or is it silky Moo Goo
Fanned..hands pulling strands
Eat not..planned fondue
Best damned bet
Always get a Raclette
CHEESE
Prouder of Gouda
Or louder Parmesan fan
Even when its powder?
Tilting to the built in love
For Stilton.. never wilting
Hard the calling card
Or more a Roquefort sort
Taught soft held aloft
French can’t bench moulds
Aristocratic blue vein
Dramatic wench holds court
Emphatic stench & stain
CHEESE
Whatever floats your boat
Maybe Goat gets your vote
Or those in the know
Gloat..chose sheep & Manchego
CHEESE
Young or well hung
Given time in the cellar
But won’t sneer at Paneer
Mozzarella can be stellar
Even give a damn
About dear Madame Edam
CHEESE
If you're of that whining ilk
Got that dining disease
Opining it’s just mouldy milk
Having a dig..you big tease…
Well won’t try to appease
CHEESE
Wary of the not rated
Scary squirting lube
You squeeze with ease
Flirting fairy out of a tube
Ill fated.. pre grated or
Diced into a nice cube
CHEESE?
Or drastic vices
Plastic elastic slices
Could go for Dairy Lea
Fell under the Babybel spell
Or pray tell maybe
Its Le Vache qui Rit
CHEESE?
Always a winning wheeze
Ideal at the beginning
Or end of a meal
No ratty ways of thinning
Natty diets lose to fatty riots
Choose ways of sinning
A ruse to amuse..
MORE CHEESE PLEASE
He says grinning
P.S If eating cheese before bed
Gives you a crappy nightmare
So what if you have fed
On cheese in these dreams
No scrappy schemes in your head
Led to days with rays of sunbeams
Teams of happy memes instead
Well it seems only fair
Written with admiration for Tom Cunningham ~ a gentle poet
maligned by one who really casts an aura of darkness
My smile is genuine and reaches to my eyes.
I do not wear a mask, nor a cloak of disguise
and I post poetry in my given Christian name.
From the hand of one it was written in a claim
that I cast shadows of dark energy around me.
Should I assume that I'm thought of as beastly?
Someone thinks that my spirit has gone awry.
I have to shake my head in disbelief as I decry,
"If you liken me to a sinister, malevolent being
I would ask what movies have you been seeing?"
Call me rude names if that makes you feel witty,
but each shines a gleaming light on your lubricity.
I'm not insulted by the sticks and stones thrown,
nor do I write anything that I would ever bemoan.
I will champion myself, my friends and my nation,
never seeking battle, nor in fear of confrontation.
I am not a troll, a gang member, or wolf in a pack,
so don't falsely accuse me. I won't take your flack.
There is no darkness surrounding my aura, I'm sure.
It may be that your malicious thoughts are impure.
You struggle with defining what's right from wrong.
Is there anyone with whom you can get along?
Friendships are important and you would be wise
to recall that poets should be a coalition of allies.
You're entitled to your opinions, and I am to mine,
but if they are different, don't moo like a bovine.
"Spiteful words," you said, my friends and I write.
Well, in this case I'll say you're absolutely right.
I've been told that rebuttals are a waste of my ink
but not a drop is wasted if it makes people think.
Think of the insult to a poet belittled by another.
One who treats everyone as a sister and brother.
Tom wrote of the bloodbath Putin draws in Ukraine
then selfish comments were made that left a stain
on his words that were written to ring out in truth.
Don't sling mud on other poet's by throwing a stone.
Give voice to your beliefs. Write one of your own.
And now, you're thinking, "You just slung mud."
Yes, I did, in hopes that it will land with a thud.
I don't relish penning negative lines of contention,
but sometimes things are in need of attention.
I'd rather write about Santa and Christmas cheer,
than calling out snide people who taunt and jeer.
the serene people whose ease of manner
once made him yearn and confabulate
are laughable cartoonish and piteous now
could have been much worse he said
as his last breath left his scarred throat
feral hand closing his own eyes
St. Pudenda greeted him at the tall gates
under the lights at Checkpoint Charlie
Mariachi trumpets rolled out the mauve carpet
and a dog barked from behind the garbage cans
from all infinity we end up with this
a realm of syntax governed by ambiguity
she read from a large ledger atop a marble pedestal
why a ledger rather than a laptop is anyone's guess
apparently the vanguard party had been evicted
by Frankie Boxcars and the Hollywood mafia eons ago
in the great schism over the digitization of paradise
no jury of his peers he noted with unease
nothing of telling import she imparted casually
eyes darting up and down the pages
as if something previously detected had been airbrushed
arrested for self amplification she went on
and sorcery and coughing in quiet places
how did you sleep she asked with a beaming smile
I don't know I was asleep he intoned
I suppose we can reveal the joke she mused
but I was dreaming he countered
backed into a tight corner by snarling lap dogs
tossed into a kidnap taxi with a sack over my head
marched with a gun in my back
through a forest of clichés
fed lines from a hideous new sitcom
about sex among the homeless
a weekly broadcast on Piñata Vision
of course it was more fun
not being an active target
but what choice did I have
knowing what I know
poor dear thing she continued
there is a better version of everything
a law of nature completely natural
and yes it is densely beautiful and
smoldering with awe like a corpse in a bathtub
try to avoid the truly grotesque
in favor of the marginally grotesque
we love having you in our science dept.
with the state secrets and midget **** videos
masquerading as the way things actually are
where the misty cows moo in contentment
and the Vaseline runs hot behind sanctuary doors
horrors altering the course of suns
between the here and the there
every bit of it needless she giggled
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
the combustion of combinations of created
An angle of a candle in a demi flux should not be mistaken for tooth floss, cherry pickers, or ironing boards. For the numerous numbers of numerals note noticeable nuances of a nought. And a nought is not a neem or a norm so always string baubles in appropriate fashion when decorating in a seasonal style. So spoke a smoke who was whirling a spoke about in the air whilst carrying some ordered cuisine. Hiding from the mirrors crept a serious serpent in spectacles askew. The smoke glared at this. It did not like serious serpents for serious serpents were quite often servants to sevens and nines who lived in mines of golden authenticity. Authentication is not a noted occurrence in an attic crease and neither in any upstairs upstream window frame either. It is said that when there is rot then to peel away the dirt could expose many mangled marked layers. Bean curd then? Yes. Faces akin to beaming beans. Collective cans causing chaotic catafalque cat claps. When sailing on a big ship of over three hundred thousand acres always play a game of golf when there is a high wind. Good. Now it is time for the littlest production company of hereditary mice to spin, dance and preform aerodynamics in a nice pink caravan at an elevation of two hundred million feet. Sky then? Yes. Wow. The wobble of a jelly with a trifle is most entertaining to regard. Especially when seated on a rusted stallion or a coating of ironic iron. It is to be said that portions of bread and soup can actually point several pistols at once. Thus giving bread and soup a glow of fame for frightening the tablecloths and causing them to swoop over the breads and soups to cover and to swamp and spillage of secretive secretions of liquid jûs in a turreted hat. But please do not trip over that cat over there. He is being used as a giant doorstop. Ha to it all said large farm gatherings. Hahahahaha they all said in great audio reflective fields of moo baa oink quack neigh ee ore. But collectively sounding like a hahaha and a hahaha is not a hard hat hitting heat and nor is it a large six thousand ton hippo genuflecting in a pond of mud. So whirl away then. Good. Z hypothetical Z at six little worms smiling at twelve cute tablemats. X
Form:
Delusion and Reference
(Paranoia)
Once there was only one, not fun,
So then this became two, did moo,
But my mum thought there were two,
There was her, and then guess who,
God said this, that, she said, like glue,
So her and Him had chats with another one,
This to me made still two in the room,
But the room had three to happy her,
And to the other one with her, further,
They deludedly found her valid and clever,
So they never hissed at her nor did mur,
Such that to them in the room done,
There were also three in the room there hun,
Not to be bred, so him and her and Yun,
Simmered my symptoms which decayed,
My youth and I was subjugated dismayed,
Such that I am now discharged recently,
Not newly promoted without ropes concisely,
Didn't want to placate the man walking behind,
Erroneous paranoia is best left to fester inside,
And so I don't know why health professionals sit,
Without asserting this mistake of faith which does slit,
Numbers - if functionally for other people and the kids,
There’s three, and her factor always liaisons her upper lids,
Then there are three real people in the room, lipids,
To them, at medical appointments, healthcare visits,
Meetings, excuse the syllogising of a sought parallax hits:
So the real converser, the professional, they must cohere,
That mum’s views may be quietly rejected unsaid,
Subtly accepted but then bypassed in favour of the kid,
Who needs to be pulled up from the pit of loneliness, bid,
By the health professional who must relinquish resolutely -
Through paperwork just to file away the sinner here absolutely,
Because ABC to me means that there's two in the room,
When there’s only two in the room, tested, there's two chemically, boom,
Since hormones cannot combine with a metaphysical being to boon,
He will loon when dislocated occupations and displacement loom -
A mathematician is not an essayist and neither a fit bit a goon;
And therefore, please remember that you become what you've done,
Not what you've sung and altered, so when healthcare workers are spun,
You get paranoia, not mum by ego, if they don't bravely come into the sun.
I’ll tell you all a story
Tis one close to my heart
Has love, Has life, It has a cow
A haystack torn apart
The man in question?
Well that be me.
The setting?
Cheltenham Town
So gather all, come, sit around
My tale I shall tell
Refrain:
Oh the pastor’s daughter Nelly
Now she was a lovely lass
Oh quick and witty as the lark
But stubborn as an ass
Her buxom form drove men insane
She let none of them know her name
And well she played them at their game
Did that there lovely lass
Now in that town there was a girl
Just where I used to work
Her Pa a Christian minister
Her Ma a moll did lurk
The cow they kept from nine till five
Was only just for show
Oh what a family they did keep
And now you all shall know
Refrain
Well home came John the night before
A tad the worse for wear
He’d been with Nelly’s ma he said
She’d legs just like a bear
We shivered and drew him up a pint
His story for to tell
when up he sprang and spilt the glass
A Wager! he did yell
Refrain
Three and fifty pounds he cried
For the bra of lovely Nell
Brought to me by sunrise boys
Or the wager’s gone to hell
Toward the door we all were bid
Each man was mustard keen
John he rubbed his hands he did
His plan was yet unseen
Refrain
I quickly made for Craddock farm
Where I knew young Nell did sleep
So soon I came upon the barn
And so began to creep
The darkness swarmed around me
I couldn’t see ‘out all
Save a white and lacy garment
Residing by the stall
Refrain
I moved to towards the brassieres
And felt the clasp behind
When skin touched skin
Dizzying, I thought I lost my mind
Then suddenly the loudest moo
Ye’ll ever likely hear
did echo round the stable
and deafened my left ear
Refrain
Out sprang Nell from the haystack
And slapped me well and good
The brassiered cow was most perturbed
And bolted for the wood
I stood in shock aghast to know
what a fool that I must look
When in walked Nelly’s father
With aloft his holy book
Refrain
So now I wander banished
From the town I called my own
The clergy all now hate me
Though I am not well known
You’ll see me in the towns and pubs
With a wench or drink in hand
And so I’ll end my tale right now
Go forth,strike up the band
Tick...Tock...Tick...Tock...
(Aye apologize for straying way
outside thee usual canon -
a poetic souffle,
boot desperation
finds me cent less,
Thus i pray
for divine intercession, this may
day call sent out, far
chump change moo nay
(near zero dollars
in checking account)
this near crack 'o dawn
to rescue me - okay?
----------------------------------
aye yie yie,
aye ham awake
at two o'cock
in the morning
ye yie yie,
aye ham awake
at three o'cock
in the morning
ye yie yie,
aye ham awake
at four o'cock
in the morning
keenly aware of major
appliances conversing ad-hoc
no doubt conspiring to sock
this dirt poor dada
directly in ma keister,
where i take flight
amidst a flock
of seagulls honking
at my unintentional
"FAKE" chutzpah to block
their instinctual migratory path
from swift tailored kick
in the buttock
as iterated above
from energy guzzling
electricity trapping shock
king lee vengeful
Peco powered accouterments,
whence this air
born papa chock
full of anxiety, asper
no where to
turn and jock
key for getting,
perhaps stealing myself
as a stowaway aboard
an unattended ship at dock
or as a las resort resort
to a life of crime
with deliberate intent,
where "the fuzz"
take me to lock
up, no way most certainly
not a place
to sing sing about,
and most likely end up
a scape goat kid
ding lee bullied a knock
on me noggin will
find me seeing mock
believe stars, which warrants
emergency medical
treatment by "Spock"
of star trek fame, whose
Vulcan antidotes wok
like a charm and find me
well on the Scottish peck
road less traveled,
which sends me Bach
to the future,
where i encounter
my pluperfect self
(barely recognizable
richly adorned other self),
with many a golden lock
compared to mine limp hair
resembling plastered schlock.
Mild dystopian cracks open
cobwebbed laden figurative door
to my super charged
subconscious shrouded self -
portal carelessly left ajar
steeped in dark shadows,
wherein spooky monsters creep
along edge of night,
outer limits of twilight zone
serve as makeshift restraining: bar
21st century alchemist busily massages
a fictional holographic projection
to contemplate car
re: ying the terrestrial firmament
into spasms of expiration, which whim far
fetched since the following conjecture
contrived within overactive imagination
of yours truly - such peculiar notions par
for the course sans striving
to become adroit
teasing out ethereal material
analogous to embrace
plasma up holding star
reed cosmic funereal invocation
loosing prognostication silencing war.
So without further ado
I offer to continue
embellishing literary above
iterated missive anew
for ye to ponder and brew
from a mister wordsmith
comprising wife as counterpart
complimenting beastie boy
aptly named duo motley crue,
whereat dwells within complex edifice
housing he who begat
offspring numbered uno and deux,
whereby this husbandly spouse i.e me
resembles a cross eyed
cryptogram solver
geeky long haired pencil necked geek
artificially inseminated yik yak
with fertilized egg of emu
unbeknownst to many edified readers
might consider myself brain cells few
explainable from being
chomped on by a carnivorous oldish gnu,
nevertheless unaffecting ability
to sire female progeny
re: guarding biological process
concerning human reproduction
viz ova linkedin with seminal glue
swimming swiftly via viscous hue
biological processes extant
from equator far north
to Inuit housed in igloo
nonetheless, genetic heritage
comprised predominantly of Jew
genealogy heritage indeed
Ask Jeeves, cuz he knew
with one very late Uncle Lou
who suffered mad cow disease,
and considered hims
a milch cow and frequently did moo
calf full when bovine brand new
which found me to rue
what comprises reality to be true
that all humans originated
from the primate zoo.