Long Scrutinize Poems
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airing zeal! If (dog forbid) the richly paid, namebrand
looming kneecapped kneeling illustrious giant egghead
con cussed career athletes fumble, crumble and bumble
spelling a loss for those spectators (who doled out
a wad of cash) quickly make collective disappointment
known by cursing, first in loin, odiously reprehensible,
unacceptable wimpy yikyaking atrocious carpetbombing
expletives. As a casual observer (albeit also participant
within the human league of billions within the culture
club sans crowded house), no shortage of opportunities
avail themselves to scrutinize the man knee ting man
contention upon this oblate spheroid (densely populated
globular planet), these myopic brown eyes of mine need
not pay per view to witness austerity, depravity, gravity,
et cetera manifold gamut of Primate (particularly Homo
Sapien) behavior. Raucous, querulous, perilous, obnoxious,
notorious...actions prompt me to intervene as referee.
I would fear for my life if one to many excessive acts
of kindness would require specialists to scrape my pan
caked body electric off the sidewalk. A similar outcome
would most likely transpire if this totally tubular troubadour
disgust religion. As a tried and true value adherent of atheism,
a vociferous, rapacious, nefarious, jackass, fractious Bible
thumping religious dogmatic character would expend every
last ounce of fire and brimstone to proselytize me. Thus
when infrequently conversing about one or the other
aforementioned verboten topics de jure, I consciously
exhibit genuine indifference keeping mum. Obvious
quietness sidesteps ugly wickedness.
Your anonymous, curious, erroneous garrulous, hip poe
potty mass stir wordsmith Matthew Scott Harris
Form:
If I had those pretentious brains which act faster than this heart
maybe then I would abhore this soul which spreads freely through each verse
maybe then I would impress you with my intellectual grammar and sophisticated words
maybe then I would scrutinize my each and every coma,dot and exclamationmark!
But I would never let that happen,I'd rather go away.
Writing with my mind and not my heart leads only to asylum within the being of myself.
Poetry is my voice,my life,my escape,my each emotion stored,processed in a yesterday
breathing softly in fresh air,wanting to explode in death, love,passion and romance.
Each verse, a thought I'm able to scribe of yet unable to express through spoken words.
Maybe in a tomorrow you might pass by ,tread your footstep on my verse
but maybe in a today,a broken-hearted fool stops by to find comfort in my world
Maybe a prisoner, an insane man,a tramp ,or any outcast to society
would pick these shattered pieces and gather them as whole
and maybe through this scribbled cross-word puzzle finds God'love once again.
Maybe a little child who understands only little words
would turn the pages of silly rhymes i penned
rhymes which speak of moon and stars,angels,dreams and faries
and maybe He would smile, maybe He would laugh
Maybe he would dream ,the way i used to dream
and maybe He would write the most eloquent sonnet
or maybe just simple words about blossoming flowers
And maybe then,my mission is accomplished,and maybe I feel blessed.
Charma
Dear Citizens,
Our justice system is founded on the principle that every individual, regardless of wealth or status, deserves fair representation in a court of law.
This principle is enshrined in the Sixth Amendment of our Constitution, which guarantees the right to legal counsel. However, for many who cannot afford private attorneys, this right would be meaningless without the dedicated service of public defenders.
Public defenders are the backbone of our criminal justice system, ensuring that justice is not reserved solely for those with financial means.
Every day, they stand in courtrooms across our nation, defending individuals who might otherwise be voiceless against the immense power of the state.
Their work is not only essential but often heroic, as they take on heavy caseloads, navigate complex legal issues, and advocate for fairness in a system that can be overwhelming for the unrepresented.
The preparation required for effective defense is immense.
Public defenders must thoroughly investigate cases, analyze evidence, and develop legal strategies that ensure their clients receive a fair trial.
They interview witnesses, scrutinize police reports, and challenge prosecutorial claims to safeguard against wrongful convictions. Additionally, they provide critical counsel to their clients, helping them understand their rights and options while navigating an unfamiliar legal system.
Despite the long hours and limited resources, public defenders remain steadfast in their mission.
Their commitment to justice helps to balance a system that could otherwise disproportionately punish the poor and marginalized.
To uphold the integrity of our democracy, we must ensure that these defenders of justice receive the support and respect they deserve.
The strength of our legal system is not measured by its ability to convict but by its dedication to fairness.
Public defenders are indispensable in that pursuit, and their work is a testament to our nation's enduring commitment to justice for all.
Sincerely,
James McLain
NOW WHIZ THE MOMENT TO PREPARE TO SCRUTINIZE
MY WRITTEN ATTEMPT AND HOPE MY OFFERTORY
DISTINCT FROM OTHER GALS N GUYS.
thankful to enjoy genesis of thoughts
from whence doth spring germ
of an idea, that either takes root
(exhibiting potential to live with
arms strong) when just a tender
vulnerable shoot (ephemeral as notes
issuing from a magic flute)
within fifty plus shades of gray matter
per this fifty plus year ole coot?
This need dull in haste tack
search for source that gave rise
per process to enable *****sapiens
to think doth nag horse sense
of this poet as he initially digs shallow,
yet sometimes forced to spelunk
into crawl space narrow and shallow,
or shine laser focus into a chasm
teetering on brink (hunting down
gamesome elusive dodging catlike whims)
out pace readied whorled wide net
to capture alive agile rat fink unseen
quiet as a mouse notion gives hardy fellow
(quite a chase) scurrying thru micro
cosmic burrow of Manhattan skyscrapers
at a blink, said quarry vanishes
without a trace just as quick mental cogs
and wheels generated riveting link
connecting bot sized tinker toys pinging
within cerebral cortex appearing random
as nonsequiturs conscious kinks via
distracting ability to latch onto awesome
fleeting mindspace inducing minor frustration
at lack of ability to nab (albeit painlessly)
zinc shimmering insight cognizant ability
likened to ode to Grecian urn vase frieze
depicting ever closely captured thought
process, cuz lifespan shorter than a wink
king third eye blind comfortably numb beatle browser.
Dear Diary, the crazies were out at work today,
I smiled a fake smile, wishing they'd go away.
They complain about prices and they whine just like fools.
I'm just a cashier, I don't make the rules.
They tell me they think our prices too high.
Sure I can control that, ya, when pigs fly.
They tell me about all their aches and their pains
And could I please hurry up, as they bang with their canes.
They ask the price of every item I scan
Hoping there's a mistake, it's part of their plan
To prove that the stores are robbing them blind.
They scrutinize the receipt, just hoping to find
Any excuse at all to just throw a fit.
My tongue's always sore from where it's been bit.
When the full moon is nigh it gets even worse,
The strange ones get stranger, like under a curse.
Now don't get the wrong idea of just what I meant.
Dear Diary, it's only to you that I vent.
Yes Dear Diary the place is really a zoo,
But I love my job......so what can you do?
WORDS
I came from the land of dumb
Where men could not express their thoughts through speech
But now, I find myself in this world
Where men can speak even with high pitch
But I wish I remained on the land of dumb
For Men of this world defy and abuse drum
They negligibly fail to scrutinize phonetics
The vocal tract paves way for residue,
Even after filtration in the mind.
Words catapulting people's dreams
Words that can make the zeal of the weak go blind
Words like arrows piercing hearts
Just for their eyes to witness blood flow like a stream
Words like poison, they put them in our glass of conversation
But I have found an antidote
They might speak,
But the words can't make us weak
Even if they do, ephemeral it will be
For talk is cheap.
I won't go back to the land of dumb
For I have found the key.
on hyaloid shade phylum
of zaffre azure
swish
soulful scrutinize
apodictic vinculum
magniloquent
wandering of wispy whooshes
wrapping wisps of weird warbles
shrivel olive trees
overflow no omen
drenched in sweat
summoned by chimera
once called passion
title assertion?
baud pace of rimless dreams
blurred bark
bare branches
fruitless leaves
unfetter'd
sky loose
mythic gem idol
purine as Myrsine
space rock fit
moon zappily
uncanny
azure drilled of ritzy rag doll
mesh shimmer blaze shackle
include
dare
desire
gaudy Sirius in darkened spell
mottled splendor
to cognize my path
as xanthic whispers
afresh
Written: August 06, 2022
A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
You can all argue which way
Is the true way the Universe was made.
For me, point is it's all the same: Universe was born.
You can all question about whether
The spectacular God's been proven real or not.
For me, point is that divinity's strongly influenced history.
You can all go about wondering
If there's really a hell, heaven, reincarnation.
For me, point is we already have our own hells on Earth.
You can all keep on asking why
There are so many different religions and beliefs.
For me, point is they all share a common similarity.
You can all mentally scrutinize
What happens after we die.
For me, point is firstly naturally all physical senses die!
You can all beg for
The answer on why we suffer.
For me, point is it could be cyclically bad karma.
You can all have the right
To take for granted all of our differences
And to finally have our souls realize…
You can all disregard
The eventual realization of eternal occurrence.
Point is that we're all in this world's time together.
While I may never be remembered as a trail maker,
I most assuredly mark the trails I follow.
Even when void of conscious effort,
As footprints indent wetted ground,
I leave tell tale signs of having been there.
The innocent may follow me because I'm trusted,
Some may follow out of love or respect,
Others, like gulls following a trawler,
Await some tidbit that I might cast aside.
But whatever the reason,
It behooves me to acknowledge,
That many are the eyes that scrutinize my every move
And perhaps, even though uninvited,
Unfamiliar names and faces,
Have taken temporary refuge in my shadow?
We love this road,
it has trees.
The manicured ladies
stand upon the lawns,
beacon with unwinking eyes,
scrutinize beneath shading hands,
pry open primped lips,
proclaim their fierce love.
We love this road,
it has folks.
Those maladjusted to suburbia
hear and move on
knowing they are not to be loved.
The road goes along
until it renames itself at a quaggy stretch
riddled with renters and other suspects.
We love to be just here
where everybody loves our road.
The mowers go chagigah here.
The lemonade stands go chug-a-lug.
The chemically clean love to be seen.
Minivans rage quietly as they bake,
and drive backwards into the sun.
Every day our love is green and yellow
and sprinklered.
In every way we testify
to the love we have for this
well-regulated wellness.
Neighbors slow-pass
gawk in their cars,
arms parading and waving
at the well turned-out children,
the small curly dogs.
A cavalcade keeping up
to whatever is better.
We love this place,
it has yards,
love to be this well situated,
planted and plotted, mail-boxed,
and groomed to be fixtures.
Buzzards whisper on high,
as the toothy and pumped-up
flex their love openly,
declare a solid solidarity -
watch each other closely
for any flaw in the matrix.