Long Sloppily Poems
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Darkness, shadows, raining, storming.
I liked to pretend I perfectly crafted these bleak, tired ideas.
When I was a stupid kid.
As if no one has ever drawn a picture in pencil, so that there is no color.
As if there is no piece of art that is gray with rain in the background that anyone would care about.
I guess I just like to recycle the same, boring concepts.
Just letting my mind tumble, over and over.
Letting each iteration wear me out slightly more each time.
Drawing more lazily and sloppily with time.
So they will realize that I’m suffering, but in a cool new way.
But no.
The teacher always picks the drawings with a sun in the corner and smiling families.
Those are the kids that everyone likes.
That’s why I always carried a sketch pad.
And never tore anything out.
Staggering, wobbling, stumbling...somewhere
Watching the world spinning, and spinning, and spinning
Confused and discombobulated, he wandered...somewhere
Swerving his steps and slurring his words...
Still carrying the Boone's Farm- strawberry flavored
He mumbled to himself...
Where am I? ...somewhere
Walking with no direction, he sloppily sings
"Somewhere over the rainbow...
Bluebirds fly
Somewhere over the rainbow...
Where, oh just where- Am I"
His first taste of intoxication
A sixteen year old want-a-be drinker; drunk
Vomit all over his overalls, on his clothes, penny-loafers, and in his hair
The morning aft, mom asks "Where were you last night, son"
Still intoxicated, he replied- "Somewhere"
"I" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
9/9/2021
Christmas for stolid, hermetic recluse
Recidivistic mind all sentimentality doth refuse
Token, lifeless symbols; pageantry will recuse
Pawned, second-hand trinkets now in disuse
Barnacled to limbs drooping to spindling angles obtuse
Garnishments that jilting time accrues
Hung sloppily, stunted timber's temporal dues
Strings of patchwork lights will fuse
Faded colored-cones baring every bruise
Creased garlands as tawny ropes the girth noose
Strands of tarnished ice sickles futility to infuse
Stale candy canes, last year's refuse
Dangling from needles now frayed, loose
A corrugated tin star the pinnacle to abuse
Under the tree, ribbonless, empty boxes complete the ruse
Another new beginning, another major change
My feet know the rhythm, though this road is undiscovered
My toes know the feeling of wet dew still clinging to the blades of grass
Not yet baked by a summer afternoon
They know the rough soft mountain dirt
And the bounce of a carpet of prickly pine needles
The numbing cold of winters long snow
Quickly followed by the sharp sting of feeling returned
As they are roasted by the fire
My loves feet are following the familiar rhythm
Down a much different unfamiliar path
Will our feet find their way back, unlike our stubbornness
That led our hearts away
The pieces of our soul we tore apart, have not fit right for years
Sloppily thrown back together
Not realizing the catastrophic damage our haste would create
Perhaps the pieces we are leaving behind will become a breadcrumb trail
The morsels to bitter for a crows meal
I had forgiven you so long ago
My love blinds me to your every misdeed
As I lie bleeding on the floor
But it matters not what anyone might say
Because though you can rip me to shreds with a look
Your lips heal my deepest wounds
And although tonight I lie above different soil
I console myself with the knowledge that it is still a part of this great earth
Of which we are all connected
I'll close my eyes and feel your warmth next to me
I will breathe your breath as you hover above me
And I will feel you inside me
As you run through my veins with every heartbeat
Come home to me my love
For I will never be home until I'm safe in the circle of your arms
Close enough to feel the beat of your heart
And the fire of our connected soul
Your Best 2020 Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke
I was embarrassed for my gold-finding prowess was slim to none.
I lived alone, in a mushroom hut, built sloppily for one.
My leprechaun relatives were braggarts, and blowhards and mean.
The things they said to put me down were evil and obscene.
A friendly cardinal named Ed saw them for who they were.
He told me I had to get away, he gave me ideas to stir.
He showed me where Old Man Ligglie Howser buried all his gold.
The man was long-gone from the spot, in a home for the truly old.
I started digging up buckets of gold that very night.
I was careful to hide all of these pieces, clearly out of sight
I bought a red Ford 250 Truck with all the trimming.
I drove away from my relatives with gold pieces clearly brimming.
I gave a little gold to Magna-Fe, a shape-shifter-professional witch.
She changed Cardinal Ed into a handsome lad, although he had a slight twitch.
We married in a little church, in a ceremony so light.
Ed turns into a cardinal in the evenings, so he can do his finder-flight.
He finds the gold and I dig it up. These Leprechauns are so silly.
They use their gardens, throwing the cauldrons willy-nilly.
I have become famous in town, as the Leprechaun Gold-Finding Queen.
And I have wiped my feet of my relatives who were always truly mean.
MuddyFingers
I shall write in catchy thoughts
encased in phrases
lead you through a maze
of pussywillowedhazes,
in search of ducks that bark
and dogs that croak.
Snippets of mind strings
all cut too short
braided into knotted
terse retort
leaping the synaptic
sentence gap
two footed landing in
apresprungtrap.
Stream of consciousness
or babbling brook
searching for the stones
already took
seeping through the dams
of mud’s dismay
children in the midst
ofmudpieplay.
Sloppily creating
works of art
eager hands at work
in willowed haze
ducks that bark
in sunshine left to glaze
thoughts allowed to wander
through the maze.
Cats with wings
on tree limbs with the crows
childrensmuddyfingers
up their nose.
John G. Lawless
1/13/2016
Inferiority complex viz mine (mien)
Although yours truly modest,
the only personal issue
I will lightly boast about
constitutes lingering
self worthlessness bred
if not prior to first grade,
than most definitely incipient,
academic deadlines
loomed large with dread
and exacerbated by procrastination
quickly adopted as linchpin
damned obsessive compulsive
currents (i.e. thoughts) fed
modus operandi, which intricate
schema writ over lifetime invisible
within this talking head
who ironically enough
never uttered a beep
engendered from lack
of confidence, esteem,
somehow worthlessness,
insignificance,
emasculation, et cetera
took root, and didst leap
(axon to neuron)
and said mindset did seep
percolating into every nook,
and cranny comprising
aging shades, transformed
gray matter, sans this
beatle browed bummer, a deep
purple, though easily mistaken
for minuscule Uriah Heep,
or perhaps, ewe might notice,
(albeit while in a sheep
push disposition) similarities
between mine fist
sized thinker, and another creep
pee totally tubular Charles Dickens
character, or maybe
even a commercial
for nanobot sized jeep
grand Cherokee keep
up a moderate clip despite,
and/or because I
oft times feel a light
buzz sensation within me quite
average gummed up noggin
jammed numb skull,
(essentially barren aged
teenage wasteland recently
undergoing gentrification),
(yeah how really) excite
ting, a no brainer fright
fully glommed with peevish
gobbledygook plus worthless,
obsolete, and crammed academic right
hand busily twiddling, scribbling,
and sloppily drafting
error riddled assignments
deliberately failing heavily
marked with bright
colors adding oomph
to mental blight
punctuated by
attaining puny height
(...oh, about seventy inches,
nonetheless, my slight
physique and mute quiet
as a mouse, I might
as well hove been a stand in
for Charlie Brown right
down to tree eating kite
good grief - never an ending fight
with Lucy, hence now this knight
in rusty armor forever
disparaged his might
and attests to
20/20 hindsight
analogous to Snoop doggy dog.
Although yours truly modest,
the only personal issue
I will lightly boast about
constitutes lingering
self worthlessness bred
if not prior to first grade,
than most definitely incipient,
academic deadlines
loomed large with dread
and exacerbated by procrastination
quickly adopted as linchpin
damned obsessive compulsive
currents (i.e. thoughts) fed
modus operandi, which intricate
schema writ over lifetime invisible
within this talking head
who ironically enough
never uttered a beep
engendered from lack
of confidence, esteem,
somehow worthlessness,
insignificance,
emasculation, et cetera
took root, and didst leap
(axon to neuron)
and said mindset did seep
percolating into every nook,
and cranny comprising
aging shades, transformed
gray matter, sans this
beatle browed bummer, a deep
purple, though easily mistaken
for minuscule Uriah Heap,
or perhaps, ewe might notice,
(albeit while in a sheep
push disposition) similarities
between mine fist
sized thinker, and another creep
pee totally tubular Charles Dickens
character, or maybe
even a commercial
for nano bot sized jeep
grand Cherokee keep
up a moderate clip despite,
and/or because I
oft times feel a light
buzz sensation within me quite
average gummed up noggin
jammed numb skull,
(essentially barren aged
teenage wasteland recently
undergoing gentrification),
(yeah how really) excite
ting, a no brainer fright
fully glommed with peevish
gobbledygook plus worthless,
obsolete, and crammed academic right
hand busily twiddling, scribbling,
and sloppily drafting
error riddled assignments
deliberately failing heavily
marked with bright
colors adding oomph
to mental blight
punctuated by
attaining puny height
(...oh, about seventy inches),
nonetheless, my slight
physique and mute quiet
as a mouse, I might
as well hove been a stand in
for Charlie Brown right
down to the tree eating kite
good grief - never an ending fight
with Lucy, hence now this knight
in rusty armor forever
disparaged his might
and attests to
20/20 hind sight!
All this global speech that once lauded your greatness has vanished.
My lips are crying today because of my misdeeds.
The harvest was completely washed away in the high winds.
Diseases and sicknesses, with fire, threaten scavengers.
Because I am shy, I cry slowly and sloppily.
If someone's feelings are bruised, a wipe may be beneficial.
Companions with crooked mustaches.
Backstabbing and spying are both kinds of treachery.
Who grasps what happened to the planet Earth.
Shame no longer benefits them, so why would they desire it?
An anxious atmosphere pervaded the air.
I'm here to assist you, and I'm grateful to God for this gift.
A natural area has been cordoned off.
The headbands must be reconnected.
Probe the misanthrope and share the etch news.
The sand on the road will cease if they reach their home.
If I yield barefoot, my final inference is consciousness.
Written: July 03, 2021
1st place contest win
A Brian Strand July 4 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Dear Mr. G.,
I'm a sloppily manufactured good
the kind of
you don't want it to be
exposed to the view
the kind of
piles up in a humid warehouse
tacitly humiliated
collusively dehumanized
even that feeling of having price attached
was never introduced
and I've heard the story about 20 dollar bill
that doesn't lose its value
no matter what
yet, here I am
unpriced
magnitude of my role is reduced to
bidding for detour
and what if
no one ever unpacks my pages
what if ...
is this reticent predestination
my real path
or instructions are misplaced
give them an order
I'm patiently waiting for refinement
Kind regards
S.