Long Obfuscating Poems
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Perhaps the most inane entities contrived by the human race,
(Leaving folks wondering why they must meet in the first place),
Are the interminable meetings of committee, panel and board,
Convening for hours leaving participants bleary-eyed and bored!
For many boards, committees and panels, alas, I was drafted,
Sitting through them with eyes glazed as my mind drifted and wafted,
Listening to self-appointed experts spewing their hide-bound views.
What they were babbling on about I had no interest nor any clues!
We could take a few lessons from some of God's creatures.
The lowly ant could be one of our greatest teachers.
Legions of those little fellers get the job done with precision,
Without convening a commission or panel for every decision!
Observe the busy honey bees toiling in the fields and hives.
They have no useless commissions or boards obfuscating their lives!
With precision and organization they go about their employ,
Producing delectable cones of honey for us to steal and enjoy!
If thinking of me for a meeting, include me out, don't call!
For I am not the least bit interested and am not inclined at all,
To sit and hash over useless stuff that usually doesn't matter,
And listening to hours and hours of inane and vacuous patter!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
The trains of cunning
Two men in a vast field of grain waited for the trains
to meet on a one-track railway line, one a mathematician
had worked out where the train would meet
the other was a reporter skilled in muddying the news.
Of the train drivers, one has a skilled hand used to getting
his way, the other was an upstart backed by western money
and told to call the older man’s bluff.
And there, in the brilliant winter light, they saw the trains
At great speed nearing, the point of no return.
There was a side track where one of the trains could stop
And let the other one through, but would they choose
To be sensible; we shall not know.
I mighty missile struck the track and blew part of it away
The driver of the eastern train was able to stop, but not so
the driver of the western train that ran onto the prairie
that had no cowboys or cattle and exploded.
The mathematician was happy his calculation was right
the reporter wrote an obfuscating article telling readers
the west had won; the man from the east smiled his
calculations had been spot on.
It's already hard enough to say anything accurately
without further obfuscating and camouflaging the soul.
The faces in the funeral pews are impassive, impatient
and the dead woman cares not what's said, isn't even present.
The poet gets innumerable do-overs, it's one of man's wonders,
revises his vision of his mother and plays her piano, posthumously.
Why not say it simply? Hers was a comity and a tragedy.
As are ours. And perform the history that surrounds us.
Are caskets boats? The ship of death rides Charon's waves
or perhaps on that solitary day you happily kayak to the huckleberries.
Is the deeper sadness incomplete achievement or never to have tried?
Any attempt to decide this question for others is to badly behave.
The pablum of Christianity, esp. the Catholics, re the after life
must be rejected. It's necessary. To be replaced by community,
perfection of the human project, nature's intelligent partner.
Dusty, sadly habitable houses along the funeral route, shapeless
people crossing themselves when ambulances or hearses pass.
I wanted to describe the sweetness of her life, how she was part
of the problem and part of the solution. How love and evolution
are passed like loaves from person to person down the generations.
Find the humor in the cholera. When my father died
he waved like a surfer riding a wave or a clown riding
an elephant out the circus tent. Mom follows the same law.
The many ways a spear can pierce a brave warrior's jawbone or armor.
The world birthed an arching column,
its broad shoulders eclipse the sun
obfuscating the golden grain colored rays
What are their thoughts? Are they an eternal refrain?
Their hunched posture, knees pillowing breasts
Ashen hair cascading like the foam of the Aegean,
the waves of time flowing down its taut trapezius
A breathing landscape living atop the one we roam
It is done roaming, there is nothing left to see
Its eyes cavernous, with pupils yawning endlessly
The pressure of its presence turns the sand it sits upon
into a picnic blanket of stained seawater glass
yet with all it carried, I sense it carries no burden
for there is no more journey left.
There is gratitude that the only act remaining
is to wait.
Obsession
Obsession with "O's"
Oh, obsession’s obfuscating oligarchy
Oceans of oblivion
Outrage in ostentatious obsession
Overrun in hurricanes named obdurate and obstinate
Overtures of oxidized compulsive orchestration in
Obbligatos overflowing obituaries -
Overbearing octaves of the obsequious –
Orations of overt objections
Objectivity overpopulated by opportunistic obtuse –
Obsession outweighing optimist’s objectives –
Openness offspring overrun by
Ominous hunters of sweet oblations ordained
Oscillating between logic and obsession unchallenged
Orthodoxy obscures opportunity
Officially ostracizes open-mindedness –
Original the outsider - occupied the outlier -
Observes only obstructive operations
Obedience to the one-track offertory
Of overstocked outdated ordinances,
Offshoots of outmoded operatic ornaments
Odious opium overdose of the obscene
Onyx odors overpowering odes
Offered on the altar of originality -
Obliterating oligarchy of obsession
9-23-21
Sponsor: Constance La France
Contest: “O” Contest
I already understand that children
grow inside two blinks,
as quickly as the novel Mayfly
comes to the surface to die.
I'm pining for those first days again,
of edentate smiles, milestones
to fund future independence.
Pineapple-sized hearts I cradled;
lulled, exchanged dank nappies for dry;
ferried on uncrossed seas,
your armada.
Smoothed rough waters as if by divine speech
because mothers can. I was thinking that I could always be your oxygen.
I let you walk through me, under, right over.
The rocking horse
brought for my bromelain angels
winged you away -
this blasted Pegasus ...
I miss you now.
How you rode away,
ephemera of innocence!
So, what then?
Me, fumbling wild in the backspace you left.
Your flabbergasting key smash to freedom
broke our finespun home, you left
me to talk to your father, Child,
to renegotiate
the bonds;
reconstruct ancient code,
deleted excess text -
obfuscating precision and knowing -
the tribal tongue of lovers
unlearned, forgotten;
escaped alongside discarded baby bath suds,
strewn puddles of rubber duckies,
tired breasts suckled
by fresh management.
What about China?
When they compel you to stay home,
imposing cloaks on nature's beauty
as a fellow friend becomes a foe
and the media unhorsed propaganda
Can we all all ask
what about china?
When old Brit's prime minister
masked tyranny by orders
confining millions to solitude
for the fear of his fickle frame
susceptible to the Wuhan's scourge
can we all ask,
what about China?
When confused men make projections
to feed the greed of the tech giants
or to maintain the cult of the pharmacy
as the media control our lives
as we surrender our freedom to fear
can we all ask
what about China?
So fast was the manipulations
so wide did it spread
so gullible were we all without reasons
to ascent to the communist schemes
who will ask my questions?
Are they clear of the scourge, and we are not?
Can we all ask
what about China?
Communism mocks you all
Perestroika and glasnost seeks revenge
so while your media makes the rouse
as ignorant men speculates,
turning humans to masked animals
obfuscating nature's beauty
can we all ask,
what about China?
Human Love
Precious memories obscured by time wander in his head
Fragments of a promise vowed to the woman he needed
Thoughts subcutaneously flashed minding crucial matter
Ordained hearts await to inhabit their dreams thereafter
Obstacles stealthily conceal answers from probing minds
While confidence reassures veracity measures their finds
Determined to detangle blind perceptions tenacity reigns
Impending storms can not deter hunger destiny reclaims
Anomaly is a toxic burden to ambiguities obfuscating life
Ruby denotes confusion emerald suggest free from strife
Undying devotion flaming with emotions a curative salve
Hands and fingers gently clasped epitomize human love!
Penned: 04/20/2018
Aboard cruise liner:
Vision of the Seas
Ever since the times of enlightenment obfuscating harmonious balance
Romantic love has taken a back seat in the absurd theatre of minds
My light my mind my empathy bonds and my unconditional passion
have been shrouded in darkness have tainted romance and creation
Empiricism from the age of so called reason certainly towers over
inclinations and feelings burrows deeply and undermines emotions
Ever since Freud investigated libido and death wish attempted to
establish a science from Id’s superb battle with Ego and Oedipus
separated phallus and **** retention from sucking up oral tradition
we have been seduced by scientific dogma and lust for the vice of logic
Like Mephistopheles debating a Faustian pact with layers of devil
we pay tribute to Descartes who doubted his incredulous doubts
The clever guys investigate Philia measure orgasms and pleasure
take delight in quantifying empathy bonds hail to measurability
In perverse contradictions to faith and belief even Agape has been turned
and tossed over on spread sheets excelling in proof beyond reasonable qualms
Call me ancient and backward and taint me with the label of idealism
pour tar over my feathers hang me quarter me and try to remove my heart
Yet here it stands tall in celebration and without schism of ambivalence
transcends into every aspect of life and peace loving kindness’ compassion
Let me call it romance and pure love apart from sex and carnal desires and
let it be known that those amorous French guys in vernacular fashion
defined it as 'verse narrative' alluded to stories from creative excitement
I love you my lover and friendships adore my children like to be playful
seek kind connections and empathy do not discount altruism as a ruse
But I have this relationship with books emerge from ex libri in fancy and art
They are friends dear to my soul they talk to me evoke the whole palette
of stretching my life on a canvass of marvellous beauty and fascination
and when I engage with words and with pages they start to listen to my love
Charted performance has little place in my essence whereas reading enchants me envelops and embraces my spirits makes me whole and can’t tear me apart
Social media on fleek
Prolific likes and praise we seek
Knowledge of 'SELF' is as distant as a stranger in the night
A nomad in a dark, desolate land so void of divine light
Social distancing is now a central theme
Incomplete sentences, text messages, and mindless memes
Faces covered, calling all to join the masquerade
Only weary eyes of confusion while a life of exuberance abade
Mumbling music signifies obfuscating thoughts
Shiftless artistry made popular, creativity not wrought
Stored seeds in Svalbard
No questions or concerns yet humanness is being marred
Food shortage hovering over us
Monsanto disguised as Bayer but still no justice
Delta variant in the air
5G and fear emitting everywhere
Take the 'Jab'! Come on and indoctrinate
Don't be an outcast; participate
Hitting more 'LOUD' and becoming more quiet
Desensitized from voices of inspiration when instead there should be a riot
Smart devices in hand appear cool
Stooped over postures and slanted information, what a fool!
Vibrations so highly enticed
Welcome to zeitgeist