Long Shape up Poems
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3/20/22
Going at an alarming speed
Taxes and parking fees
Across uncharted seas
I'm in the presence of sharks and trees
Keeping any B.S. far from me
Among constant conflict and chaos, I've only partially
Found harmony
It all use to dishearten me
Experienced much first hand rather harshly
Around me was constant paraphernalia like a pharmacy
In years past, I partook in some carpentry
Sometimes I make chimichurri with ingredients like parsley
Remarkably
What I do will not matter or it shall far exceed
All expectations, meanwhile most continue harming each
It's typical no longer startling
People charm and tease
Cause harm and cheat
A lot of them are a creep
Mama told me, boy get your s*** straight
Otherwise you're ending up in fifth place
Won't exceed if your content with that and think it's great
Someday I'mma drop a mixtape
On B.S. they often fixate
Far too many commit hate
Worldwide instead of just across this state
I'm not jaded
Even though I constantly got cross faded
Often living in space
For a long time I was a bit late
So the ship sank
But after a quick break
It all became innate
Still they treat others worse than inmates
People far too often piss-take
And they love to dictate
At this rate
That'll be their last mistake
Because it all gives shape
To being dim and fake
Leading toward a grim fate
Damn girl you got a thick waist
If I don't shape up, I could end up being fish bait
Can't get by with a higher loss than win rate
Specific crowds targeted
Harmful products continually marketed
Won't catch me in a cardigan
I finished it and now I've started it
Got back to drinking hard again
Risking an arm and leg
In daylight I'm charging in
Or in the dark I hid
Hmm girl, you're so very far from a gem
Often broke the hearts of men
For a long time of love they were hunger-starven
Got to keep a smart head
And a firearm instead
Of just a blade with a sharp edge
Concern for human life is often disregarded
Doesn't matter what you do, like if you bartend
Or became a jarhead
Can't do anything if you are dead
“I”
said
The Lord
God Almighty
“Am the way, the
Truth, and the Life*;
The sure direction-Giver
The prudent master Teacher
Who leads victoriously toward
Eternal security in heaven forever.”
Thus, I follow
Him earnestly
By His grace…
With eagerness
Through faith
In His Word so
Precious, great
Powerful, pure.
I abide in His…
…Will that is…
Perfect, good,
Acceptable…
Knowing that
He loves me
Just as I am.
*John 14:6 Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.
July 10, 2018
Edited on February 18, 2025
3rd place, "YOUR CHOICE d" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 5/10/2025
curlicues perhaps
the Catholic nun
wouldn’t let me engage
in penmanship shape
“shape up, sit straight!!”
yet the ancients
would whirligig
with their featherings
fill up the page
with their zorro-like signature
tap-tap-tap
the teacher’s brought me back
to life, to engage
in this ((yawn)) bor…ing
admonish the swording
don’t let me squander her time
keep in step with the four wall attack
windows of daydreams grow black
march march march
in two straight Madeline-s
the feather tickles my digits
my mind metamorphic
the rhymes fantastic
tap-tap-tap
this time near my ear
the fearsome whip
that steers me
into correction
dear nun’s satisfaction
i’ll get an A
in penmanship
but conduct -
can’t shut me up
My name is Mario and I have an ingrate for a brother, his name is Luigi.
Even though our games are in my name, he's always had it better than me.
He needs to be taught a lesson and it will be left up to me to teach.
The sorry bastard takes everything, he even married Princess Peach.
He always got all of the attention from our father and mother.
Now he wants our games to be called the Super Luigi Brothers.
He went over my head and asked Nintendo to change the title.
I'm so pissed off at him that I'm starting to feel homicidal.
I sued Hollywood Pictures in 1993 because they did something that really made me mad.
When they filmed the Super Mario Bros. Movie, they made me old enough to be Luigi's Dad.
I deserve seniority because I've been in more Nintendo games than Luigi.
I was in Donkey Kong and years later I was in Mike Tyson's Punch-Out as the referee.
Luigi had better learn that I will not take his sass.
If he doesn't shape up, I'm going to kick his Italian ass!
(This poem was inspired by the Super Mario Bros. Games.)
shape up said the circle to the square
you’re a bit rough around the edges
far too closed in for comfort and joy
I can’t help it I’m all full of angles
right ones and wrong perspectives
constant rectangular doom so to speak
look at me I am a ring of fire and passion
diametrically sound complete at the centre
rounded and packed with infinite promise
you’ve no beginning unaware of the start
state you’re a wheel in perpetual motion
while I am grounded and sure of myself
no such thing for you are rigid and static
unsure where you’re going if moving at all
condemned to inflexible and taut stiffness
and so they squabbled from angry premises
valid arguments and debatable conclusions
righteous and unbending in their opposition
until an ellipse and parallelogram came along
change needs shifting paradigms under pressure
the square opened and jumped into the circle
anchored tangents perimeter and firm compromise
let us please wed our disadvantages and strength
no contradiction but complementing each other
Pythagoras meets Sisyphus and they applaud
27th November 2020
icy daggers serrated his chilly mind
memories sharp as polar bear’s claws
wielded reminiscent evocation in pain
how he longed for selective amnesia
heart and reason at war with the enemy
a battle only to be won if he surrendered
to inevitability that conflicts were useless
unless of course they concluded in cease fire
his father had fought at the Russian Front
which left his own upbringing out in the cold
no Potemkin façade could melt the chagrin of
twelve years of Germanic menace and madness
both of them prisoner to emotional deprivation
trans-generational transmission of trauma in action
it was bitterly cold in the heat of many a moment
and icicles festered in the young brain to be formed
shape up they said – fight flight or freeze
food for thought no doubt but what about feelings
many winters have passed and the old man is dead now
took many secrets and memories into his grave
the boy now in his sixties decided he needed a snow man
carrot charcoal eyes and Che Guevara’s bandana
collected drift wood from a beach of forgiveness
and danced around the bonfire of exorcised hurt
until permafrost yielded to fire and passion in time
he had been his own antagonist for far too long
My emotions have been fried
I don't know how much I've tried
For you to notice and listen
The way you've been badly dissin'
All the work I'm putting in
To save our love once again
The attitude that I've been getting
Needs to stop or slowly lessen
Because there's no way I can
Help you even understand
How much my heart needs you so
It wants our love to sweetly grow
And blossom to a pretty garden
But you've become so rude and rotten
It's keeping our love seeds down'
And not growing from the ground
Into a passionate bouquet
In a colorful display
That's so bright and beautiful
But your gonna end it all
If you don't shape up your mood
And drop down on the bad 'tude
The false apparatuses are presented on the tiny stage,
The surgeons want to shape up your archaic days.
The larger your poisons are,
The more lethal is their care.
You only care for the austere suggestions,
I want to undergo your sweeping portions.
I want to shake your hand in between infinity,
You want to pull me through this lumbering calamity.
I am another deceased man in this war,
Can you recall the black October?
There is so much rapture in the grave,
You only yearn to be brave.
You are now in a favoured hell,
I want to conjure you back and well.
I want to bring back my old salvation,
Where you were the most cataclysmic passion.
I beg you to wait for me in the uninhabited cave,
I will converge with you soon where you are already paved.
You are situated in your befitting place,
There is awaiting you the perpetual grace.
It was November first, Hedgehog Grandpa’s birthday.
"We’ve got to be going!" Mom was yelling that day.
The one that was keeping us back was brother Gay.
A slow poke again, on that cool Saturday.
"I am leaving now." The voice was loud, from Dad.
"I am right behind you!" I yelled. My name is Thad.
My mother was holding a gift, so that is rad.
Because it is the birthday of H.G., our granddad.
As we headed down to Gramp’s tree, Gay caught up.
He had six excuses, most of them about having to sup.
He was still carrying a bit of toast and a coffee cup.
"When we get there," Dad said “You had better shape up!”
Grandpa came to the door and yelled “I’ll be!”
If anyone acted surprised ever, it was certainly he.
We do this every year, but still this pleased thee.
“Happy birthday!” I yelled to Grandpa. He said "You surprised me!"
I enjoy not my ride when
Am seated in fast moving cars!
I enjoy not the sceneries;
Whether they be construction workers
Toiling to shape up the town
Or gardens of roses, so soothing to the eyes!
I manage not even to let the songs
Playing from the radio
Get immersed in my soul and
I can feel not
Their beats in my veins, thereby,
Letting their words come alive!
Yes,
I enjoy not my ride
When am seated in fast moving cars!
After all, life simply wants us
To be thus,
Running to work, to meet deadlines,
To fetch our kids from school,
To prepare dinner,
To sleep even,
So as to meet up with the challenges of a new day!
Is it not best to take the time
To sit in slow moving cars,
And to enjoy the air that fills in our lungs,
The caress of the sun as it warms up our hearts
And let the sceneries
Overpower our senses completely
So much that living becomes, in itself,
A pleasure?