Long Slapdash Poems
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In retrospect the couple nigel and nigella were reflecting on their mosaic life that transcended the freakish.
In a mist drenched and fluctuating sun dispersed town with scant employment, and that plethora of minimal short term contract work.
The apparently genial and eccentric inhabitants were in a quintessential jokes and capers quandary.
Dark grey shale ribbed stone stark dwellings one felt might collapse with a finger prod but didn’t quite!
Yet!
Windows bear the tarnished realm of conformity that might stifle atmospheres but didn’t quench drole alignment.
Streets that wove interstitially whose most elevated distinctive mark was its ennui on rewind.
A laughable yet solemn cliquish hub wedged in between a brambled array of disrupted forest leaf wilt and rabid limp green wet knotted pastures.
Nigella had a short story shortlisted in a dimlit attic of a local newspaper with the title A day in the life of a donkey.
Nigel was a junior cast member in a fringe drama on a meagre shoestring budget that had now you see it now don’t short run then vanished without the most minimal of warnings.
Based on this animal pet theme.
Perhaps the portrayal might have been a tad gauche and slapdash in its delivery.
The humour a little too corny even thorny for seats scattered like seeds audience in an overshadowed, out of the way, dust speck town which simultaneously seemed to be playing reuse second fiddle in the context of up to date innovations.
There was also the tantalising magnetic lure of a major urban catchment area and its kinetic glow where there now appeared to be a perceptible impulsive swing away from this midget type village or small town yet somehow dense area that was at once a mortise lock gazing in on itself yet had this twist and turn yen to expand exponentially.
“Strange that day, Nigel, you know when I saw that donkey in the field.
It was a bumpy field very uneven, it was raised, elevated and had this tilt.
Most unusual, it had this human facet, almost as if it was on the verge of peering down on the village.”
A MIND SEEKING REVENGE
IS LIKE A PRISONER WITH NO JUSTICE
IT WON’T TAKE ANY RESPONSIBILITY FOR ITS ACTIONS
FOR IT WILL PLOT AN ILLEGAL PLAN OF DESTRUCTIVE EVIL
IT WILL FORSAKE AND TERRORIZE ANY SIGHN OF A CONSCIENCE
IT WILL FORBID ANY FORCE OF INSANITY
AND WILL BARRICADE ITS TEARS
ITS DARKNESS IS INEVITABLE
IT WIL BECOME ABORTIVE
IT WILL FLAUNT ITS FALSE EMOTIONS
BUT IT WILL EXTIRPATE ITS PLAN
AND IT WOULD LEAD TO A GRIDLOCK
THE MIND WOULD THEN HAVE HYPOCHONDRIA
IT CHOSE ITS KISMET
BUT IT STILL HAS A PLAN TO LYNCH SOMEONE
BUT IT WILL THEN MARTYR
THE MIND SEEKING REVENGE IS NOW NOXIOUS
AND OVERPOWERING
IT’S SLAPDASH
BUT A TYRO IN ITS NEXT SCHEME
IT WILL JAB THROUGH ITS CARELESS THOUGHTS
BUT IN THE END IT WILL HAVE A FEELING,
A FEELING OF PIQUE
AND IT WILL RUMINATE OF ITS DEEDS
Form:
12/26/21
Time I make a splash
Got to fulfill important tasks
Can't rely on hiding behind masks
It won't always be what you asked
Staying intact or full of bug splats
Broken and cracked windshield glass
The wings of bats
Continuing to flap
Before returning to the cave for a nap
Out to get snacks
Packs of rats
Eating trash
Watching their backs
Looking out for cats
And traps
In a flash
Another clash
On train tracks
Or in the grass
Followed by maggots and gnats
It had nothing to do with cash
Just the way of the animal world, real facts
No cap
Comprehend and imagine that
A lot comes with a catch
It goes by fast
The good things in life rarely last
Live a life full of laughs
And have a blast
Close and far from flax
Just about everything getting a tax
Whether or not in burlap sacks
Often outmatched
Souls being snatched
By the batch
Evidence buried underneath a hatch
With a locked latch
Hundreds of feet below a vegetable patch
Never went to mass
Pushed it to the max
Then ran out of gas
So I ate some bass
Then took a dab of wax
Back to work on this obstacle I slash
And smash
I'm causing cracks
From swinging my pickaxe
Originally, I was barely making a scratch
For the last time I'll rehash
It was slapdash
So there was backlash
Wrote about it in my raps
Often I'd relapse
Perhaps
It's time I detach from all this crap
Too many chaps
Obsessed over apps
And others fighting over scraps
The curtains getting pulled back
Not going to keep it under wraps
Before it all turns to ash
Learn from the past
And other despicable acts
As time continues to pass
What's the haps
Do you truly have a clue?
Do you know the half
Or are you an ignorant ass?
People harass
Cause others to feel like an outcast
No wonder they eventually snap
And are full of wrath
Causing bloodbaths
This is turning into a plague, not a rash
Why are we going down this path
Where most burn and crash
Sunny and her love-object have broken up.
It was a selfie-inflicted wound - a slapdash pic taken,
that like a puzzle, revealed more than intended.
We try and be thoughtful and considerate but
we’ve only recently escaped from captivity.
Perfectly nice people are capable of unfaithful deeds.
Isn’t that what so much of great literature is about?
Our lives are written in disappearing ink,
and it’s not as if all kisses are meaningful.
We stretch for happiness or for fleeting pleasure
- we’re not married and only vaguely committed.
What would tempt you - what could you actually resist at 18?
Or now - but maybe you’re a saint.
A true good sort of our beloved sport held court...name in hall of fame has its place but nought plaudits sought humility taught to face the rash race to slapdash and onslaught of all out pace which Kane fought and was slain again with a swish of his lions mane and lashings of panache & lacy grace..
His oeuvre could hang in the Louvre so arcane
Heavenly humility hums on simply higher plane
Angelic ability strums his rhapsody of restrain
Classy never brassy this balletic lullaby refrain
Symphony epiphanies aesthetic of his reign
Poetic ebb & flow kinetic that third man lane
Stoic almost prophetic that cricketing brain
Heroic skipper of champagne WTC campaign
Ascetic in the nets again insane how he’d train
So fond of his willow wand traditions to maintain
Never frenetic play to the conditions he’d explain
Textbook renditions history of Test tapestry retain
Weird mystery Robinson Crusoe beard did sustain
Stranded on isle of guile & wile is Kane’s domain
Martin Crowe did know such style you can’t feign
Never vain or inane with lacy grace did entertain
Didn't complain final mission got lost in the rain
Good sort of our sport from limelight did abstain
No disdain this knight's records forever remain
Memories of mastery & artistry will never wane
Last post gong is a love song feel the Kiwi pain
Goodbye Kane we will never see your like again
A closer look at a fantastic word
And no, I’m not talking in bafflegab
To not repeat this speak is just absurd
To absquatulate like a fracas herd
Throw a foofaraw over a little jab
A closer look at a fantastic word
A uni-brow is a glabella furred
And whirligigs hung too slapdash to grab
To not repeat this speak is just absurd
Scuttlebutt schlepped to sassafras by bird
Skedaddle from a skirmish of stone crab
A closer look at a fantastic word
A quibble over razzmatazz occurred
Doohickey from a lummox, easy nab
To not repeat this speak is just absurd
So scrumdiddlyumptious I may have slurred
Like tintinnabulation, it’s not drab
A closer look at a fantastic word
To not repeat this speak is just absurd
Sundial
My passion is the silent weather vane
The gambrel brought such sorrow
Much I marveled this roughcast cairn
Eagerly I looked for the lintel
I have dreamed of the clocks
Eagerly I looked for the masonry
It was heterodox
Somewhat louder than the freemasonry
Back into my memories rewinding
And the clapboards never machining
Deep into that darkness watching
Still is notching, still is notching
The graves seemed happy botching
And so I screamed, 'Is that a weatherboard?'
I crave the dissident, derelict dormer window
My mind always strays to caryatids
Much I marveled the dissident gazebo
Much I marveled the eighth patio
I crave the baronial, balcony breezeway
You warned me about the indigo
And so I screamed, 'Is that a drift way?'
Take thy landscaping from out my heart
What time is it, And the megaliths never grinding
What time is it, And the masonry was nonbinding
I heard an italianated, slapdash roofing
It was fireproofing
I discovered the statues
Take thy picket fence from out my heart
I discovered the vases
Deep into that darkness listening
'It's that plaster work,' I muttered
My passion is the silent weather vane
The gambler brought such sorrow
Much I marveled this roughcast iron bane
Eagerly I looked for the lintel barrow
It's a new day and yet dark now,
What time is it on the sundial?
4/7/19
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2019 ©
All heaven struggled, good and evil clash;
Lucifer's crowd was cast to earth in shame.
Babel's plot to reach heaven, mere slapdash;
God upset language; words became a game.
In His hometown, Jesus bound His powers;
miracles in Nazareth were blocked out.
Were their skeptics so different from ours?
God clouds the ears of those who dare to doubt.
Sovereign insight is way beyond man's light.
Facing death on a cross, no small bother;
repentance from sin brings life eternal.
Christ's vision requires infinite foresight -
mankind united with God, the Father.
Existence sans God is life infernal.
July 10, 2022
My theme: a quatorzain about life,
I used Rhyme Zone (abab, cdcd, etc, etc) and How Many Syllables (8 per line) to check
Sponsor Constance La France
Contest Name It's All About Three Q's
Especially one courteously wrapped ably
anonymously gifted to
an aspiring gourmet Chef Boyardee
i.e. not surprisingly... revealing mystery
person none other than...
yepper namely me.
Moost anyone can show
off culinary karate chop
suey, whether schooled among
fishy creatures either
from black lagoon,
or privately tutored,
(this haint no canibal)
courtesy mythological Cyclop,
somewhat riotously,
quirkily and precariously,
when blindsided flop
which slapdash loco motion often
misconstrued for latest dance moves
characterizing boogie woogie
(touting Louis Armstrong talents
as token bugle boy), and/or hip hop.
Audible sigh of relief exhaled by
none other than Chaim Yankel,
whose tail feathers ruffled
linkedin to setback, which former
(malfunctioning microwave) did rankle.
No longer must
hungry tummies all told
eat food frozen and/or cold
leftovers formed into Rorschach,
neigh Horseshack habitat mold
more suitable as clay pigeons,
where strong arms
analogous to accordion fold
readied to take aim and fire
young trumpeting Olympian trained
contestants, albeit aghast at
proliferating firearms when polled
wantonly, indiscriminately, and blithely
taking precious innocent lives
worth more than fine spun gold.
Eve vent chilly this monseigneur
and his madam
(Church Lady) conceding faithful
to follow and acquiesce
and countenance flimflam
toward yours truly,
no matter a fake Imam
who offered up feast
Earth friendly biologically/
genetically modified, prepared
artificial intelligent algorithmically
programmed manufactured in Vietnam,
who cooked delectable
Soylent green eggs and ham.
Best not prepare
former entree in microwave
lest they explode instantly
killing home of the brave
necessitating, none other
than one lame rhymester at large
to end poem quickly senseless verse
in order for his hide to save.
Soundlessly ricochet to and fro
hither and yon
roundly bobbing within squarely donned
talking heads of psycho killers,
one pyromaniac burning
down the crowded house
sparking magnificent conflagration
towering inferno emulating
caterwauling, kickstarting, ululating
(think) stray cats on a hot tin roof
nsync with 10,000 maniacs
intense heat and duraflame
long since eroding
weather beaten soul asylum
strip mining away
vestial trace, hence impossible mission
rectifying purposeless existence
imputed to passive self sacrifice
upon cusp of prepubescence
mystified, mummified, modified,
stilled, lulled, andhushed
obsessively grammatically fanatical
oftimes feeble efforts yielded countless
corrective editing measures
subsequently rendering lame
resultant deplorable effort
despite NON GMO gluten
and monosodiumglutimate free
diet of (hooked) worms
limply tethered symbolic constructs
analogous to dangling participles
scraping, plowing, etching...
imperfect triangulated Hollywood squares
across parched stream of consciousness
former luscious cerebral riverbeds
long since bone dry
millennium since onset climate change
courtesy global warming
blowing in the hot torpid wind
sands of time elapsed
accepted biological demise
forever linkedin with his forebears
birth/death repurposed cycle
activated, demonstrated, gifted...
integration, narration, reincarnation...
biochemical, geological, paleontological...
legacy randomly begetting me
epochal, integral, orbital saga
since time immemorial
fifty plus shades of once ashen gray
well muscled athletic human specimen
oblivious corpse good n plenti
petrified, metamorphosed, coalesced
bleached skull and crossbones
grown brittle when blazing sun's
rays generated aforementioned disparate ideas
jangled, rankled, and zapped
in tandem with bared tiger (no lion)
slapdash pell mell, helter
skelter, higglety pigglety...
germane blitzkrieg rained down above
leaving writer, tortured, mortified, and benumbed
without either sense or sensibility
nor pride and prejudice
perusing discombobulated chaotic
kamikaze lobbed muddlesome nonsense.