Long Reflexively Poems
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Your Beautifulness
The nice middleaged man walks up, points to the ground and says,
"Excuse me Ma'am, but I believe you dropped your Beautifulness."
My wife looks reflexively at her feet,
And then he adds: "Ah Nah - You still got it; you still got it."
What a line.
Wish I'd thought of it.
Because it's true:
You['ve still got it.
The Blazehaired Beauty
That stunned all the youthful boys
Is still there,
Just beneath the skin.
You'll always be that Beauty
My Darling,
Because what you have,
Doesn't age.
It thrives, unto itself;
How I deserved it;
If I ever did,
I'll never know.
But when you lie with me
In the pitch of the night,
I know I'm blessed among men
For your love.
I am disaster incarnate
So I know.
How you endure me,
I do not grasp.
But know this;
You carry your Beautifulness everywhere
And never drop it.
As the rod of living pulsating light
Humming with energy does magnetise
The elixirous divine current of delight
Manifests joy within we cannot describe
Imagine polarities within in divine union
An intimate lingering lovers caress
Fusion causing a slow motion explosion
Renewal of rapturous bliss climax
As one of the limbs of Shivas attributes
Divine bliss liberates & captivates
Love in love with love reflexively resolute
The seductive dance within elates
Thus becoming a transmutation heavenly
Hollowed out empty form ignited
As the explosion renews within continuously
Bliss hypnotic holds us delighted
04-August-2020
A feint attempt to stab myself...
quickly found the missus ready to faint
Like a madman possessed
by mailer daemon lemme acquaint
ye with the following verse, I will bepaint
momentary horror, where yours truly
entered momentary third eye blind rage
loosing violent constraint
nearly thrust knife
into right leg without restraint,
which curtailed prospective martyrdom,
thus scotching, nullifying, denying...
me anointed apostolic saint
plus stripping christened name,
one Matthew Scott,
cuz he threatened to harm himself
invariably with permanent
leg a see did taint
moment of spontaneity
instantaneously vanished without a trace
when irrational brandished
white as a ghostly corpse petrified wife,
who merely felt playfully frisky
I haint kitten,
yours truly reflexively reached
for paring, quartering,
halving deboning, cutting...
said kitchen utensil
nearly sabotaged marriage
finding zee spouse suddenly widowed
(never writing last will and testament,
nor in fact ever drafting first)
as husband almost pitched himself
into wuz bin realm
courtesy short nasty brute
mine generic doppelganger
harkening back to dem good ole days,
when regular altercations occurred
heralding grab regarding lovely bag of bones
birds of prey didst carrion and buzzfeed
scavenging any shred of wedded bliss
which auld lang syne times
well nigh witnessed fisticuff strife,
though these previous half dozen years
considerably less rife and riddled
with expletive strewn epithets
that cut sharper than a dull knife.
Momentary loss of reason
every now and again
finds me skull comfortably numb
just another brick in the wall
reckoning, we don't need no education
acquiring diploma courtesy
hard skool of knocks alumnus
attests he experienced
arduous, horrendous, opprobrious, and venomous
environment pinterest tingly linkedin
with congenital predisposition to anxiety/
panic attacks in toto
enroute visiting Wizard of Ozzy Osbourne.
Reprehensible Savagery ©
'Pon reading tragic headline...,
aye experienced grief alone,
no matter the killer (Chris Watts,
thirty-three years
of Frederick, Colorado) unknown
to me, the sheer brutality,
whereat he killed Shanann Watts,
Bella and Celeste,
his once adorably beautiful,
now ceased wife
and daughters ages thirty four,
four, and three respectively
(purportedly via strangulation)
reflexively did i groan
particularly, the propensity to kill
with in sinew weighted bone
times gone by,
where expletive laced epithets
incessantly did drone
nearly activating trip wires,
a blood dripping knife,
would be shown
to police, unless...I took my life,
cuz immediate regret would well up
resulting with an agonizing moan...
hence after perusing morbid
(somewhat inexplicably fascinating)
screaming tragedy ado
admit sadness overtook this chap,
what wrought motive,
(albeit premeditated)
for him to construe
such an atrocious, ferocious,
heinous, et cetera grew
some crime toward innocent wife
(she supposedly knew)
intuitively felt and possibly
foresaw the slew
how her life (a grotesque
mass square aid )
would meet one gross violent death
intimating marriage frayed
ranking as "FAKE,"
or Eff for failing grade
yet tidbits publicized twas shaky match
from get go, no heaven made
nor wedded bliss -
her precious life paid
as well two preschoolers
(cute as a button),
and expectant third progeny (male fetus)
existence extinguished by, "killer"
the husband, who went
into a deadly tie raid
now guilt upon
his conscious heavily weighed.
•My breath wont let me say that you’re gone.
• This continuous pressure your mere memory forces on me pins me to this Earth
•won't you please let me go?
•At night I hear you unintelligibly shout to me through my pillow, your seething laugh haunts what precious moments I actually do sleep.
•Your visits should comfort me but they don’t, I dread seeing your baleful face.
•Especially since they come at 3AM.
•With a sweaty brow, and quivering heart.
•Thump. Thump. Thump.
•Was it my own heart? Incessantly beating, throbbing, quaking at the thought of you?
•No.. I just know its you.
•Thump. Thump. Thump.
•With every step the memory of your hateful fingertips burns the skin around my neck. I reflexively reach up to touch my throat and swear.. I can almost feel you there.
•Thump. Thump. Thump.
•I reach for the doorknob of my bedroom, the bedroom we used share, where you would leave me crying, bloodied and bruised…and with a shaking hand tighten my grip.
•THUMP!
•I pull the door open aggressively, being fully prepared to meet with your ghost face to face, but was only met with a cool breeze.
•Its like this every night.
(dashed off upon learning untimely demise
regarding prosperous family, whose small
plane crashed. about half dozen years ago,
they lived ~ three doors down from us.)
No words can assuage the deep sorrow,
this once upon a time neighbor
(I lived at 1148 Greentree Lane) experiences
disbelief, numbness, shock...
attendant by an irreparable loss of beloved,
and vacillated how to communicate
heartfelt sympathy,
where words superfluous,
yet... if for that challenge alone,
an affinity with language
spurred impulse to focus upon
bountiness of joie de vivre
imbibed years gone by,
when every now and
again chance encounters
found yours truly (me)
in delightful company
regarding persons whose presence
imbued benevolence, kindness, warmth...
facilitating emotional philanthropy
influenced long term positive memories
to one experienced being
outcast, ostracized, offensive...
courtesy unfortunate series
of circumstances beyond my control,
which voiced unwelcome tension
sabotaged reaching quality politeness
displeased at unfriendly reactions
reflexively, maliciously, impetuously...
did little or no justice
toward conflict resolution
which altercations nearly,
quickly did segway profoundly
into unpleasant standoffs,
yes bias, bigotry, bitterness
begat bisel meshuga
acutely aware I loathe
uncouth actions regarding myself
and strive to remain
affable, cordial, friendly...,
hence an object lesson,
(albeit ex post facto)
to abide by my inner integrity,
ethos, doga politesse...,
especially when pitted against
unsavory electric acid kool aid test
tis then urgently vital to remain
steadfast, and figuratively
turn the other cheek
particularly when populace
under severe duress
re: instigated by pathologically
belligerent, ill mannered, rude...
president whose sets abhorrent precedence,
whereby people of nation follow suit,
yet this concomformist only hopes
to affect positive within world at large.
Generating a ring
of bright waters, which
currently meanders, ponders,
and then streams - twitch
ching reflexively as flora
and fauna lap rich
text chard liquid
timelessly streaming, rippling,
and quivering pitch
sure risk gully confidently
babbling, bobbing, bubbling,
burbling loch a king
dominating his rill small niche
wade ding in the wings,
one doth espy, (sans oxbow lake)
analogous to an err
river rent sea sunned bay sic
wide whirled, whetted, webbed itch
perhaps berthed as a cripple creek,
and/or survivor of a kill
ling, which ordinary
happenstance attempts
to anthropomorphize
life giving resource hitch
ching various synonyms for water,
where sustenance to biosphere
can become flushed out
vis a vis via an ecological glitch
which dry dystopian scenario,
within the realm
of human activities circumstance
leaving most animals plants awash
bay sic lee lurching,
gasping, and choking
within an immense oceanic ditch
availing an alien landscape
awash with post apocalyptic
desiccated global cribbage
match, where the losing hand
would be a real ,
thus summarily, punctiliously, and merrily
describes the edifying whirlpool
life sike kill
where countless marine species will flounder
(literally like a fish out of water)
viz deadened ghyll.
I need to let it go when its run its course.
But this pain... this lacking. I always feel the hole it leaves. Letting it go feels wrong.
But Why?!
Like im losing a piece that sustains me...
But it hurts. Everytime. More and more.
I reflexively look for it everywhere.
How I do I shut that off?
And that is what scares me.
How do you stop something that feels as involuntary as breathing?
And if you do... Will what it sustains die?
Would it return in the face of it?
And that question that haunts me.
What would be worse?
Living. Hoping. Crashing. Repairing. Repeating
Or finding a way to stop the involuntary?
But that feels like dying when I imagine it.
Are those really my only choices?
Bear it till the end?
Or bury it?
When she stepped into the traffic
did she see the oncoming,
judge the distance;
the fleet footedness
of her thoughts calculating
the crossing,
or did she read the red end of her life
the way a deer might
caught in a blind light,
paralyzed by decisions?
I watched,
perhaps other eyes were on her
too far away from the moment
to save or rescue her time.
When planes break apart
the passengers fall out of it
thinking, calculating,
& dying before the end.
Possums lay in the road
gambling on deadness
to fend off an 18 wheelers.
Did a ghost of a thought
push her back,
keep her swaying
like a cartoon road-runner
on the curb edge,
or did she plunge into the truck
gambling that she would
always be
a moment away?
Was she already lost
as she unraveled a tangle
at the other side of town.
This we cannot say,
for most of us reflexively
looked away.
January 13th, 2023
After wishing upon a star
to garner a handsome windfall
as a positive fated birthday gift
lo and behold, these ears didn't deceive me,
cuz I discerned a partial telephone message
hinting at word winnings to good to be true.
I (a sheepish fellow) nearly got fleeced...
to the tune of five hundred dollars
courtesy publishers clearing house scam
nearly got the wool pulled over my eyes
lucky for me presence of the missus
a force not to be reckoned with,
she madly gesticulated
yours truly to hang up the telephone.
Predacious con artists
flourish thick as thieves
insinuating themselves
with practiced braggadocio
annoyingly swat away
her/his feigned friendly felicitousness
courtesy mine non affirmative action
think my feeble and meek
polite verbal declinations.
Characteristic passiveness pervaded
persona non grata of yours truly,
whether being the "scapegoat"
all throughout twelve years enslavement
constituting skool of hard knocks
reflexively withdrawing within self
seriously contemplating existence
as Norwegian bachelor farmer.
After consuming copious
platefuls of powdered milk biscuits,
I (an ordinarily shy person)
bucked and chucked
conventional behavior of mine,
plucked courage with humorous repartee
off times conjuring
the perfect comeback
versus smarting with absent
quick wittedness ex post facto.
Overzealousness ofttimes finds yours truly
trying to overcompensate
being pegged as quietest student,
whose severe nasality reinforced
(courtesy submucous cleft palate)
impeded communicating spontaneously
even now thinking twice before
interjecting a comment viz aperçu
(ideally humorous) to feel included
among social venue or milieu.