Long Sensibility Poems
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A single woman, in her early thirties,
Wanting not to settle, wanting not to date
Wanting not to mingle, for the sole reason
That, she finds not between the rest and herself
Many similarities!
Pray, being made of hyper sensibility
She prefers her own company
Delving in her inner world,
A world made of poetry,
She seems always so serene and happy!
Pray, it is not in to be an extreme loner
It is not in to want not to blossom sexually
Yet, she holds on to her own convictions
Stoically, stubbornly
Easily, effortlessly, even!
Why, it is not common these days
To hear a woman say she wants to be a maiden forever
Yes, for her heart belongs to the powers higher
Of thus, she had made a pledge, once
Once, when her tantrums for the mundane had broken her!
So much that now, she has faith flowing in her veins
Beating in her heart
Filling in the essence of her soul
Making up her very breath
And of course, centering her vision of life!
Now, she cares not for the mundane
Earth's pleasures please her not
Earth's miseries bother her not
Earth interests her not
Even if she has sworn to serve it, as long as she shall be!
Pray, she knows she is totally out of the box
She knows and she acknowledges it
She knows and she assumes it
For life revolves around diversity, around mystery
Around riddling enigmatic folly!
She prefers to close her eyes to the harsh gaze of the society
She prefers to hear not of their rants
She prefers to sit alone, to breathe in the freedom of purity
And to write, lines and lines of poetry
Till shall come the time for the gates of Truth to open up to her!
Being in has never been her thing
Always has she yearned to be unique
Pray, the skies have made her as such
Of this grace, she remains grateful
Hopes she, though, to be somehow useful!
And protected, always
Claims she, to have no faith
For she loves all the paths leading to the worlds other
Yes, a being she is, totally out of the box
Yet, a box it is, which is itself a nomad of Time!
Sabotaging orbitofrontal communication incorporating connection between anterior cingulate gyrus cortex heightening activity bridging (via atom sized pontoon bridges) greater activity upon basal ganglia, which synoptic description does nothing to alter the predisposition to ingress of uncontrollable imbecilic, inexplicable, and illogical fixation particularly during onset of puberty, when an emotional kamikaze nose dive at the nadir of near lifelessness, the shadow of me former self nowhere tubby found on account of deadly symbiotic relationship asper the invisible nemesis – i.e. electrical impulses faux nattering nabobs of mien nativity whereat unseen thriving sensational riffraff quenched powerhouse ousting nestled milkmaids, or rather pressing said resources sans vitality into dangerous, frivolous, and horrendous self destructive antics, where ballistic charges drugged eminent domain former nerve cell size occupants, thoroughly re-engineering sense and sensibility with pride fullness and prejudice on par with dousing one with an opiate that completely upends functioning healthily, judging lovingly, and managing productively versus expending precious time and energy self absorbed into manic, neurotic, and/or psychotic actions, manners, thoughts, et cetera, which irrationality got embedded within the neurological interstices, which even as of this moment hound me akin to wild beasts circling ever closer to launch mortal kombat against their very housing.
Who am I to take her innocence.
To caress her untouched virgin fibers.
This is not a negative connotation of lust,
it's an intimate overtone to show affection.
I tell my heart to be patient,
yet it irks from the rub of lingering
and it's flustered - feeling lost,
as tomorrow has no guarantee,
but she lives in a fantasy of dreams,
where her mind paints a different reality.
Art of the heart is not so simple -
in our predicament of sensibility
and it would be selfish
to convince her to stay,
but tragic to let her leave
and then she tells me how
she cant live without me,
so we remain helpless,
two souls on two different shores -
content with being lost at sea.
Simple Musing
Silent One
30 October 2019
Who am I?
I'm an American who ordered my head to remain buried in the sand
but due to the lunatic holding office, it refused to obey my command.
Finding no reasonable sensibility in the mind of that mad creature,
I shake my risen head, watching the horror of this double feature.
Each day is shadowed in darkness by yet another ruthless crime,
of the catalyst, sans morals. The unacceptable excuse for a paradigm.
The narcissist president who should be a mime like a circus clown,
the wanna be king of the world who brought our country down.
The predator of women, and of countries he thinks he can own...
A blowhard mentality, a bully who would sit on every nation's throne.
He's made us the enemy of Canada, Mexico, and now for gosh sake,
Denmark's Greenland, lusting for whatever he thinks he can take.
He wanted the Nobel Prize for Peace, but his demand was spurned.
With grubby hands he took it from its owner... an honor not earned.
Claims he doesn't want China or Russia to be America's neighbor.
He doesn't know how to read a map! Verbal abuse he likes to belabor.
He put his name on The Kennedy Memorial Center for Performing Arts
but it would make a better target on a game board for playing darts.
Sick is what he's made many U.S. Citizens with his presidential farce,
hoping remorse is felt by followers who should ask him for a divorce.
Who am I?
I'm a poet who'd rather not be an ostrich, not hearing the blathering,
but spending time writing of other things, daydreaming, woolgathering,
but it's become impossible not to hear, read, and be able to ignore
the catastrophic problems caused by the one Duke Beaufort calls 'Igor.'
I wait in all the crummy
little barrooms of the soul.
I look about and sniff the air,
drink, and wait.
In the demi-world of honky-tonks,
which vie against night's
inner gloom, beneath mantles
of thick smoke, pinches,
slurred speech and propositions,
I leer drunkenly about,
swimming in the haze
of my heebie-jeebies.
I wait.
After the smoke clears away
and the honky-tonk tones die,
when the scraggy light of the
morning after spreads, mustily,
across the floor,
I wait.
After the hangover,
after the aching head, glazed eyes,
belches, and specks
which move around my head in circles,
I see a different sort of light:
A flatter sort.
In the sordidness,
ergo filthy waxy sawdust on the floor,
I have seen a conjuration
which I sought.
But soon it disappears
and will not come again.
Illusion slips from mind
with lifting drunkenness
and break of sensibility
and pain creeps in which
is not merely physical.
Oh well.
I must try again tomorrow night.
There will always be another night.
'Course as a grim teller of tall tales,
(albeit poetic) reasonable rhyming
quasi roundelay I readily admitted to feign
cuz, stringing words together with
pride and prejudice plus
sense and sensibility, jocularity,
and conformity I dissed deign
(spoiler alert) iamb, trochaic,
dactylic, and anapestic metrical reign
jest your ordinary garden variety
dollar short day late dime a dozen
penniless citizen banker Abel and Cain,
yet mine mean mien blithely, daringly,
fatuously, ludicrously, nauseatingly,
pretentiously playfully urbane
many (if not all readers)
will coon sitter
yours truly harmlessly insane,
whose feeble attempts
to wax and wane
oft times falls flat (splat goes Matt)
as if dropped out plane,
without a parachute
instantly recuperating while lain
supine (winded, but...
none the worse) asthma brain
suffers concussion, confusion, contusion
actually, immediately, and unexpectedly
knocked fluent German speaking ability
within germane guy verständlich?
If ye really comprehend
trademark non Turkish gobbledygook
then explain (using
language of least familiarity),
but best to commence
with eye catching hook
impossible mission
apt lit pupils (mine)
to evade even momentarily
riveting, spellbinding,
and transfixing look
courtesy ingenious way
with word ye snook
cored me and took
wind out my sails.
Nor could I breakaway courtesy automobile,
cuz 2009 Hyundai Sonata
would not start... yea for real,
thus finding me ready to yoke
neck (think gibbet) each heel
dangling as body goes limp
blessedly, finally, happily
ridding me of any/all hangups,
one less goo goo gaga born this way
poker face cards for him to deal.
UNGABLUZUM describes this schlemiel!
Sassy sobriquets schooled sissy spindleshanks...
studious skinny scruffy scribe
Scathing, scolding, screaming,
scorning, searing, sing,
sociopathic sarin soaked skewed
squirt, sputtering, squawking, sleepily
staggering, stabbing, swaggering
sweltering sadistic, sarcastic,
savage, systemically systematically
stigmatized, supersized saber sharp
schick shaving, shunned, sabotaged,
scarred, scorched, smote, sanguine,
stippled, speckled schizophrenic
sensibility, spurring, seething,
somewhat stultified, sophisticated,
spellbound spirited scabrous
schlemiel schlemazel, stenciled,
sundered sniveling sanguine storied
snakebitten sojourning smartass,
skeptical shoddy sophomoric
screwball, subtly sagacious,
stunted, sclerotic, scrappily
shuffling short, Shylock
styled sideburns Semite,
sainted Shasta sipping
shriveled sad sack,
sullenly syncopated, synthesized,
slobbering sybaritic, scruffy
sheepish sketchy scalawag,
Socratically scrutinizing, seizure
stricken, stoically sneezing,
shamed Skidrow skeezer, shifty,
sweaty, sham shaman,
supremely spidery, schmaltzy,
sylan seeking subsidized succor,
self shuttered, sequestered,
sidelined, shiftless, shabby,
semantically snazzy, soldiering,
shrieking, skulking, somber,
stooping, Segway scootering,
schmart spendthrift, Swahili
speaking, straitlaced, streamlined,
spongebobbing, sandal shod
sealegs, squarepants sporting
spectacles, sedate, sensate,
sentient, ship shaped,
shanghaied, salubrious,
slithering, snakish, stuttering,
sluggish, smashface scarred,
sober, solitary, sangfroid
skidamarink singing, Shamokin
speaking scrivener, scuzzy,
spunky, starved, submissively
suicidal, sunburned,
salaried shuffling senescent
snoutish soundcloud shutterflying
snapchatting schnorrer.
Rum and twenty dollar bills,
three parts giddy a quarter numb;
Innate desire each one fulfills;
Dazed rabbit diving down molehills
not at all curious about the outcome,
rum and twenty dollar bills;
Relishing everything the taste instills
keyed up and devouring every crumb,
innate desire each one fulfills;
In a flash sensibility sours and spills,
licking the rim erasing humdrum;
Rum and twenty dollar bills;
Spiced butter and enchanted thrills
with each drop madness can hum;
Innate desire each one fulfills;
The sunrise sobers and chills,
moonlight fades throwing a tantrum;
Rum and twenty dollar bills,
innate desire each one fulfills.
Skies open,
broken amongst the mist
blues knelt down, praying
wonders kept, drifting
blown far and fast away
vast, the ocean builds
tears as far as an eye can see
ripples wronged right,
as little reminders
pushing out in many different ways
the air shifts quietly
surrounung
all this beauty
as the rest of world continues to breathe
the sun isn't succumbing
to sacrosanct
smiling on such an auspicious day
winking in the wonderment
and watching what's here left to stay
the sense, the sensibility
compassion caressing candor
crossing bridges
as life pushes us towards the edge
begging for forgiveness in eyes
brightened by words whispered
in the dark and dark times they have been
so much so one doesn't care to begin
world cries out to empty skies
hoping, for once, there'll be a reply
Within the confines of the prison
Lies an abandoned soul
He’s looking through the shattered prism
For emotions to take hold
He’s searching for the pain and pleasure
To acquire a human form
Within the exploration
Begins the evil storm
Security is distant
And melancholy strikes
The victim is resistant
And hides his saddened eyes
The sense of self is broken
The roles are undefined
A place of isolation
In a lost and cluttered mind
Intolerable injustice
Insufferable grief
Unbearable confusion
In answers that he seeks
Reclaiming the connection
Is his essential feat
He must untangle cobwebs
That frame over his deceit
Obstructions are arising
And trust is growing dim
There gathers disappointment
The outlook being grim
His only expectation
Must come from unity
And gathered from a viewpoint
Of sensibility
Oh, rise up our hero
And care for your own self
You’ll come out of destruction
And cease this torturous hell….