Long Onetime Poems
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Inside The Mysterious Enigmatic Fragmentary...
Mortal Mind Of Matthew Scott Harris
ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK!
Seedy gobbledygook ergot
visibly argot bubbled, burbled, bustled...forth
yea...give garbled, jangled, warbled shoutout
if ye doth render
mug gadabout totally confounding,
this unfettered voluminous confection
ruff lee in toto as sample
doggone freelance gargon
sublime red rover - misaligned with
twenty first century time
emerging, fishtailing, kvetching,
slithering, whipsawing
during springtime
thaw - oozing out primordial slime,
schlepping aboard bissel mishuga train
while kibitizing with longfellow
ghost hosts Bartleby,
thee Herman Hermits,
and Stray Cats caterwauling
scrivener circumlocution showtime
evidences troubadour prima facie
tremendous struggle rustling rational rapport,
ruminating, citing his dismal schooltime
track record muddled, and hence
questing to cobble a rhyme
distilling, harvesting, and
leaching (out pulpy, knotty,
Max Headroom Ancien regime
filmy... gray matter) in realtime,
while strains of Ragtime echo
from late nineteenth century
tin pan alley, nsync, linkedin
cubist, dadaist, existentialist...
mine poetic melange jerry rigs
flashes random discordant phrases
kickstarting hotmail...faintly
analogous to processing quicklime
mucking with abstract alphabetic
mire ranks as playtime
forging whimsical tactical trippy thoughts,
nursing eternal idealistic Earthly peacetime,
worrying away looming mortality,
noshing post death as pastime,
welcomes input and alien abduction – ME,
mine "FAKE" existence, sans charade,
facade, masquerade onetime pantomime,
no second act allowed, nor
revising questionable tour de force
I claim NO pièce de résistance, nor overtime,
asper waning game
of thrown away Life
approaches nighttime haven
soon...forever rest in peace
surrendering requisite burnt offerings,
sans (cremated ashes) - meantime
fete grateful dead
scythe lent hoodlums on warpath
to incite bedlam
postprandial mealtime prayer final -
deathly hallowed gleeful grimace
witnessing successful electroshock therapy
of yours truly emotionally frozen
decades long comatose state
thankfully oblivious, when impending
curtain call signals finis!
Healing
Could it be possible for love to heal the troubled, the wounded?
All those damaged souls, who’s ghosts haunt their every hour!
Could love bring them back from the brink of emotional extinction?
Give them back some of the innocence they, at onetime, knew?
When one thinks of the genocide of our First Nations People,
Think of the genocide of their spirit, those remaining souls.
Could it be possible for love to heal the troubled, the wounded?
All those damaged souls, who’s ghosts haunt their every hour!
When one thinks of the genocide of a child’s psyche, hers or his.
One has to wonder what part love plays in this destructive game
man plays as he molests, sexually abuses, emotionally, mentally,
verbally strips naked, to the very marrow, the essence of a child?
of Nations, of the first Peoples residing upon this little blue planet,
past, present and future. Will love give them a glimpse of a future?
B. J. “A ” 2
May 9th 2017
A ONE-TIME HEARTBREAKER:
Singly, they placed before him a bid,
Just to explain himself about what he did.
He took them on a date,
And the relationship was so great.
With their upper wish elate,
Though his proposal was laid on await.
He accepted them as his work mates,
So he had good times with them.
Making him an absolute gem.
He was always ready on any term,
To offer them help when they squirm.
So they beheld him romantically,
As he treated them majestically.
Holidays were their refreshing days,
And their birthdays,their best days.
Gifting them was his tradition,
which always came out of affection.
Later, time went on from days to months,
As there was on and off on their chats.
So he close that chapter,
And besides they were no more working together.
But he sent an invitation to one of them,
Exactly, few days to his wedding.
Precisely through WhatsApp,
Later, he realised the message was pending,
So they didn't get the message to show up.
After two months when he's now a husband,
They singly called him to confirm,
Since they heard about his nuptial from friends.
Honestly, their hearts became infirm,
And now they say it's a great offence.
onetime-
I was just one child all alone
and I wrote one piece
a day of poetry
grandma said
take one day at a time
uniqueness singleness oneness
one place I loved
was the attic
I was the only one there
playing make-believe dreams
doing the one-step waltz with dolly
it was a one-sided conversation
and I said
dolly I for one disagree
the one person I want to marry
will come one sweet day
and it will be a unity of two
and then I would sing her a song
in a one long octave note monotonous
uniques
singleness
oneness
I liked to tell one line jokes for grandma in the kitchen
put on a one man show for mom and dad after supper
dad gave me a one dollar bill
for every poem I wrote
I still have the first one he said
be oneself
take one direction in life
and I grew up solitary
to write poems
each one is beautiful to me
I'll get a break one day
one never knows about tomorrows
I hold dear my belief in
uniqueness singleness oneness
then one sad day grandma passed away
I cried all alone in that attic
I'll see you again one day grandma
______________________
September 3, 2015
Poetry/Free Verse/One
Copyright Protected, ID 15-705-869-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, One,
sponsor, Rob Carmack
Ninth Place
Line of inquiry- 'have we repaid all debts of love'
_____________________________________________________
As my life is a God given gift,
I should cherish it as best as I can.
There is so much to do within a life span
But very little time remains,
As I am at the last lap of my race.
By word or deed if I have hurt someone,
I should ask forgiveness, before my days end.
Let love take precedence when hate surrounds;
Let my heart be filled with compassion.
Let tolerance bring grace when I feel hostile.
Let me not get caught in life’s swirling currents
I should keep a grateful heart for all the simple joys of life,
For all the treasured moments given by others,
For the love lavished on me by my parents and dear ones.
I should ask now and then if I have repaid all my debts
Through acts of caring and love, in return for what I got.
When autumn has set in, I am reminded of life’s fragility.
Like falling leaves, when we drop off from life,
Mother earth claims our bodies as hers.
Living, breathing and loving is just a onetime boon.
So, I must make the most of my life in the best way possible.
I must find time to look around to appreciate the beauty,
Which God has graciously strewn all around us.
Find time to meet friends, for they add to life’s luster.
Lend a helping hand or flash a smile at those-
Deserted in life and feeling weighed down.
As the race winds down and the final turn is in sight,
My life, I realize is not one to be squandered,
In aimless pursuits or just for hoarding riches,
But to share, laugh and enjoy with my fellow men.
As my torso withers and my yawns become weaker,
When the Grim Reaper prowls at the door, let me welcome him,
Not in dread but in cheer, contented as having repaid my debts
As best as I can and on waking up from a prolonged sleep,
Enter a blessed realm beyond the tangents of space and time.
I have this awful feeling that the universe is changing its shape, and the earth is going to increase the human race, the Meteorites are sailing through the sky, and the earth is racing in a different time to honor a period that has already died.
It’s hard to set the world in motion when three-quarter of our planet is sinking beneath the deck and the sun is moving closer to the earth to suck up the moisture and heats up the land, a piece of paradise is falling from your hand.
I wonder what they will find up there when the universe has so much to share, the moon is full too soon and flowers are blooming under the crescent moon, the temperature is rising, and the earth is blazing, and the ocean level is rising.
A strange wind from the East is passing through the sky packed with nitrogen and it will make you die, it has come too close to the earth and mingling with the elements that is made up of dirt, it is stuck behind the mountains, and it will stay there until the earth changed its form.
Oh what wonders lies in those tiny sockets with imaginary strings floating in the air as they parachute and float inconspicuously in the atmosphere. They are holding the universe together and they make our lives better. I can see the valves opening and closing and the air pressure slowly releasing and the mugs dancing and bouncing in space.
The air above me is mixed with grime, the air around me is laden with slime, the deposits from the sea and the spaceship debris fell right in front of me but mercy was right onetime to rescue me. The mission to the moon will return to earth sometime before noon, position someone at the gate to measure the temperature before it burst in flame. The air around me is polluted.
1. A dangerous vision coveting another,
blurred by envy to need a mental monocle.
she burns in such deadly blast
not to realize the soul already promulgate itself
to the better one.
Nothing can serve as a wake up call
to warn against the penalty point.
What was once a silent partner in thoughts
transform to wicked acts and a stench
not to be overlooked, wanting a friend to be less.
2. Sees up through her friend
both are fine, she wants to be finer
both are well, she wants to be better
a onetime dove becomes arrogantly disloyal
a part-time energy with flashlights
relevant to the downfall of another,
exhibiting abrupt vagaries,
playing billiards not even to win
but to break the board,
watching closely in a bad timing
to revert all positives with negatives.
3. In the flowing dam of our love,
you poured strong acids of your crude emotions.
you are the one downgrading your worth to a bric-a-brac
your unexplained anger proves the more
that I’m by far better.
On this affliction, you stay rat-arsed,
giving jealousy so much importance
to be obsequious to it.
Time to be matey with the envied has passed,
let this dark heat continue fighting
for the devil may care.
The flood never did subside, each person became an ark.
Now the creatures have shrunk,
mixed up until one species carries the genetics of all the species.
Fantastical beasts have arisen in a thimble of water.
The great flood is now a teacup, an ocean of tears,
but who’s tears?
God has long since dried Her eyes, The lamb, and the lion,
(Her onetime time emotional support animals),
have become so intermingled
that their parts are unrecognizable.
When all was said and done, we were all animals together.
The leaping waves toss we arks over the moon and back again,
leaks spring leaks.
We are all looking for a mountaintop somewhere,
so far, only a few have returned with that long expected news.
The rest of us drift on looking still for that special place
to offload our cargo, our menagerie of leftovers
from an ancient truth.
Character References
By Mark D. Stucky
If I applied for new employment,
should I write down for my references
my malicious manager who mistreats workers,
my onetime teammate serving prison time,
my drug-dealing cousin crashing in a crack house,
or long-lost relatives living in unknown locations?
If I used such rogue references,
could I honestly expect acceptance?
Yet, Jesus applied for the job
of Redeemer of humanity
and, for references, he is using us,
rogue saints and reformed sinners,
who all too often fail our calling
to love all other people
and pursue righteousness.
With character references
as checkered as Christians are,
can Jesus expect acceptance
by the rest of the world?
(First published in Calla Press, 9 April 2022. See also my poems “Hate Vacuuming?” and “What Would Jesus Tweet?”)
(Image by Van Tay Media on Unsplash.com.)
Mind, like a deciduous forest
has lost all its foliage,
all leaves torn away
by the autumnal blasts.
The brain where great schemes were concocted
is now an abyss where spiders sway
It is bare – dismally barren
of all memories – sweet and sour.
Like a kite afloat in the boundless sky
moving nowhere, but as the wind directs,
cut out from the past, turned from the present
with the future yet to surge from the abyss
or like serpents intertwining,
hissing in turmoil within the brain,
unable to sense the gusty blast,
or hear the whispering air,
dead to sounds that disturb,
deaf to songs that soothe,
like a phantom he moves weird,
drifting far away to a space and time impenetrable,
with nothing to make the mind agog
or depress it to let out a sigh.
Loitering on roads without hurrying feet,
with no bliss coming on the way
to run or hasten to embrace
or fear to be missed sore.
Passing through dark labyrinthine tunnels,
forever barred with no exit,
churned in oblivion, oblivious of all,
he remains a spectral facsimile
of his onetime self, plummeting into a black hole.
The pulse of a heart beat
is all that keeps him alive,
all else is dead…… !
He lives with dreary nights ahead,
that shall not know another morrow!