Long Spluttering Poems
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Descending,
I manipulate and manoeuvre for the updraft
Spluttering,
I spiral down, then briefly up again, to glimpse a glowing sky
Flapping,
I fall forever faster, flat-eagled
Plunging,
I watch the unwelcome gloom envelope my horizon
Tumbling,
I twist, turn and turbulate, ... then the thudding thump
Gasping,
I groan and exhale, a noiseless moan
Curling,
I recoil as innards become outward form
Emerging,
a base inside-out creature crawls and creeps
Tasting,
the tongue-tied intestines and the unseeing socket eyes
Groping,
a gruesome grub befriends the worm and slurps the slug-slime
Engorging,
as flaunted members flail blood and flick licky, sticky fluid
Reforming,
dim visions populate carnal shapes with awful movement
Gaping,
a fearful half-formed and startled face averts its gaze
Residing,
in deep gutter niches... these are my companion dwellers
Wallowing,
I sniff a redolent upswell of dank fissured earth
Disturbing,
I scrape, cleave and wipe away a smear of covering soil
Trembling,
I sense a warmth of body, a stretching of exotic wings
Enquiring,
I mutter clumsy overtures and crude enticements
Retreating,
I hear unmistaken rebuke and a sigh of disappointment
Imploring,
I elevate my utterances and seek a further hearing
Caressing,
I feel a welcoming and forgiving response
Pulsing,
the creature's cocoon gives way to nebulous female form
Ascending,
at first a cherub woman smiles playfully down on me
Transforming,
a stimulating and sensuous siren cavorts and teases
Uplifting,
wings gather me in for a swooping flight of fancy
Revealing,
from above, her intimate view of dwellers in the hinterland
Coaxing,
she fills me now with empathy and understanding
Alighting,
my body-mind lies prone beneath her
Tingling,
I feel her form and thoughts slowly enter and encompass me
Exploring,
I arouse and we gently probe between lips and sphincter
Delving,
I follow our rhythm of kiss, taste, touch and thrust
Wandering,
I experience our ambiguous male and female desire
Playing,
I laugh at how we tickle our innocence and sophistication
Loving,
I know for delirious moments what it is to be another
Consumed,
lost in coexistence with a like- but more extraordinary- mind
O glorious Autumn of melancholic
Gold -
All abouts the brightly lit
Woodlands
Your wonderful artistry behold!
Tinted bronzes,
Darting between awkward firs
Of sobering Evergreen,
Loiter inside mauve havens
Splashed with palest yellows -
And dappled with many differing
Limes
Throughout this variegated Theme;
A myriad of rustling contentment,
Sweetest contrasting charms,
Complimentary...
Softly whispering leafy hues...
Hushed...most elegantly serene.
Bursting into the swelling copses
And invading between the
Dwindling fields:
Auburn, primrose and lilac views -
Abundant with seasons
Celebrations
That so magnificently infuse!
Glowering in simmering sunset,
And spluttering in misty dawn:
Afire with all the orbs oozing
Revelry,
That upon barkened furniture,
To thus gild - and resplendently
Adorn!
Now is the time
That dry tinkling leaves
Give musical resonance
To a breath exhaled from
A breeze...
Fanning the boughs roaring flames
That each out-stretched branch
does eagerly seize,
Fired from the eternal torch
That immortal Ceridwen tirelessly
Sought;
Whilst I hang upon evocative
Memories
That this arresting moment briefly
Caught.
Blazing with a consummate passion
Ignited from a poets grappling
Thoughts:
The Muses to this joyous splendour
Were summarily summoned
And brought;
But as elusive as the enchanting
Notes
From the intoxicating pipes of
Evasive Pan...
So as elusive the words of the
Unwritten verse
That so evade this singular man.
So burn! You gaily painted colours,
Within abandoned restrain,
Your dizzying carousel
A whirling kaleidoscope
Upon an artists ever changing frame.
Soft ochres and dappled browns
Mixed with vivid orange and crimson
Red...
Applied lavishly from the palette
Of Artemis
Over which the vibrant pastes
Are thinly spread.
A riot of pastel shades
All exploding forth -
With the raging power of a
Supernova
Of an immense, dazzling force!
All hail to the almighty:
From the devout to the Divine...
And all hail to the Grandeur
And Majesty -
Of his awe-inspiring design!
We lived in a crooked house.
Built on a muddy mound of hope with the corpse of yesterday half buried beneath
Sad eyes and smiley faces. A gilded countenance to pair the four walled fiction – Painted thin; only just enough to cover our cracks.
Widening like morning eyes; a mirrored reflection.
Dancing in a zigzag to the tune of the tremors. An ugly soundtrack coaxing ugly art.
Those damp walls. The cracks swallowing torrents from eyes in the sky
Wide eyed boys watching sliding droplets crashing into droplets. Swallowed like pride.
Doors jammed in water seeped jambes. Knotted and gnarled. A need for a greave
Trees weeping at what they witness from the outside looking in. Shedding leaves for tears.
Oft trampled floor boards creaking and crying in solidarity with those that walk its back
Whisper and scurry light-footed like mice in a hurry so easily scared by the wall breaching wind
Trying hard not to wake the monster sleeping downstairs - Breath held like tongues, voices low
Like the swing in the garden tied to the tired branch of the hunched tree. Seat sunk in mud. Ashamed.
A tip toe down the slippery stairs; in fear of drowning in the basement swimming pool. A watery hell
Festering in the bowels of this building ever since the burgeoning moat breached the ramparts of this faux castle.
Lopsided family photo frames hanging by a thread. Nailed to crumbling walls. A slipping semblance of home.
The rising cigarette smoke staining the walls like those words from the same pursed lips from the mind so hard to rid
A cloudy plume with no silver lining; an excuse for eyes to water; blurring those family portraits.
That poisoned smog escaping through the chimney. Blown out over spluttering trees aghast at what this house concealed.
The wind once blew from the west. The house had many faces then but when the east wind struck its walls, the face it pulled it stuck. Doubled over, bent and crooked.
The trees perished like dreams and time brought change
But this crooked house remained the same.
Relief courtesy dreaded (re:) inspection not revisited until May 2022
Anticipatory anxiety put on high alert
when the warden gave less than a week
courtesy spluttering tone of voice
she did angrily blurt
nsync with her usual persona
being wickedly curt
treating us (myself and missus) like dirt
gloating in our writhing adversity
poor, sharecroppers, no matter yours truly indigent
no matter exhaustive effort I do exert
to secure living income/wage, thus flirt
with visions of illusions grandeur
analogous to taut pulled belt girt
tightly around psyche whereby temple hurt
with unbearable agony
rendering these lovely bones inert.
Grosse and Quade Management
at 2 Highland Manor Apartments
with Jackie Geiger at the helm
finds yours truly afflicted with weak
praise, cuz she left us
(meself and the missus)
in figurative darkness,
whereby I electronically bellow and shriek
silently critiquing as if writing op/ed
for Time magazine and/or defunct Newsweek
perhaps under heading summarizing healthweek,
which hypothetical issue possibly considered
virtual collector's item
and subsequently unreal antique.
Nevertheless said rich daddy's princess
forewarned yours truly and spouse
dated June 24th, 2021,
quoted verbatim as follows:
Dear Mr. & Mrs. Harris
Due to your recent annual inspection,
we will be re-inspecting
your apartment on Tuesday, June 29th
from 11am-4pm.
We will be conducting
the inspection to ensure
you are making progress
cleaning your apartment,
especially your kitchen and bathroom areas.
We also want to keep up
with eliminating your fruit fly issue
in your apartment.
The above date came and went
(as did two other recently lapsed dates),
we never got notified
approximately five year tenant
logically concluded - and anger pent
up inside furious enough
methinks gross analogy when
twenty eight National Guardsmen
fired their weapons at a group
of anti-war demonstrators at Kent
State On May 4, 1970,
now mine poem attains completion extent.
Unblinking reflexive opinions lean
indubitably, favorably and certifiably
with minimal pandering soliciting
uber voodoo yawping woos
socially quintessentially obviously markedly
consciousness brakes alignment
defining mine political views
loosely yet not strictly, jerry-rigged,
hidebound Democratic
fealty haltingly pledged ones and twos
to roster of candidates
slated to challenge incumbent Republicans
all to quickly accused,
sans participating sinister ruse
this active voter puzzled at controversial
eye opening ex post facto
fractious, governmental
harmfully injuriously jaw-dropping
suppression within top secret queues
during nasty donkey kong braying p's and q's
(case in point) scurrilous, opprobrious,
and malodorous Clinton administration,
where (based upon my recent perusing
"The Peoples History” –
me strongly endorses
(authored by Howard Zinn news
worthy revelation, (whose recounting
atrocious, calumnious, egregious
glaring ignominious knowledge
jackbooted, mandated, predicated
on blind trust, essentially billeted
charade, facade, inlaid faux Hope loose
bandied cutthroat gratuity legislation
favoring pandering "pork" via
pretentiousness to wealthy gentiles Jews
abandoning average civilians snuffing out
sputtering, grousing, and hoo's
flick erring tapering fuse
whereat this news worthy informed citizen
totally tubularly unaware of any clues
pertaining to antithetical maneuvers,
(loo win ski) shenanigans, and undertakings
today yields genuine boo's
toward Clinton, where I despondently feel
he renegged promises
made to electorate (except top 1 %) got souled
(sold) to remaining 99% cheapest bidders
as-sized thirteen duff heated no nothing
sneezing Schnorrers
spluttering phelgm at me at-chews.
Sand scrapes my skin as I wake,
Warm water around my shoulders break,
Spluttering, I shake my head and open my eyes,
Palms and dunes to my surprise.
Shock constricts my body as I cannot register time and space,
The bar, the music, the fast pace
Am I dreaming?
What is this place?
Try to rise but there’s a heavy weight,
Body entangled in a putrid drape,
The marine meadow; a slimy constraint,
A sea tangle, I must escape.
Rigidly I strip away the remnants of the sea,
And drag myself to the water's edge to cleanse the whole of me.
Crustaceans, salt, an external coat of slime
Begone the foulness drying with time.
The pristine coastline,
White sand stretching around,
The cove overshadowed by palms and vines,
An escape, if invited, to relax and unwind.
Mangoes and coconuts,
But where is the wine?
The wine that blanketed my mind.
For somehow I have been transported to a time,
Of an unknowing adventure, that was not planned by mine.
Flashes of a yacht, bright lights and sound,
A heavy splash, to a sinking drown,
A sea coated awakening, a heavy frown,
I’d fallen over, but not shut down.
Heavy of heart, I wander through the brush,
Unforgiving terrain cuts at my thighs,
I seek the higher ground,
My body persists with audible sighs.
The top; a vista of incredible size
Without division between water and sky,
I feel lost and abandoned,
Overwhelmingly I cry.
A reflective sparkle from down below,
Catches my eye as a shape appears to glow,
My yacht, my friends,
My place in the world.
Scrambling down,
Excited and desperate,
I stumble, and crash,
My body too wretched.
The target is near,
life saving and clear,
But I cannot see the ground beneath me,
Anxiousness enveloping my all,
And I fall.
Fall, and fall.
The facade leans out, like a medieval pell,
As I descend into a violent chasm,
Torn and broken, a cry ringing in the death knell.
A heavy thud easy to fathom.
The Man In The Moon
Follow the crooked path
through a frosted gate
And hide in the shadows,
where the streets are straight,
Look for me in a doorway,
it's there that I will wait,
Marooned in the same darkness
that will, one day, be my fate.
Imagine a light shimmering
and distant voices muttering
As I carve the brick built skies
with flimsy silver guttering,
And there I am, a halo'd face
upon a heart, a fluttering,
Imbetween the chimney stacks,
gasping, choking, spluttering.
I am the mumblings of a lunatic
forgetting what to recall,
Memories of you distorting
despite the thrill of it all,
I am lost among the shadows
that are holding up the wall
So I'll pause for a moment
to let another empty bottle fall.
As it rolls down the sober kerb
like an eerie, muffled scream,
I hear my own hollow footsteps
echoing in a dream,
I am the man in the moon
and upon your eyes I beam,
Lighting up discarded wishes
just to watch your essence gleam.
Appearing and disappearing
in the windows and in puddles
Where all my loves once gathered
in their cruel and taunting huddles.
Where I am often found confused
in a myriad of muddles
Suffocating, like an unwanted child
in a world of loveless cuddles.
My eyes will still shine as bright
as a winter's fearful stare,
Reflecting in my melancholy
as if I wasn't there,
Not wanting to embarrass you
nor indeed, do I mean to scare,
Just to blind you with my love
if I could only dare.
Yet my icy breath is hesitant,
the dawn has come too soon,
To whisper to you sweet-nothings
or to catch you if you swoon,
And there you are, such beauty,
in your summer bridal cocoon
Never to love, nor know my name,
I am only the man in the moon.
© RJVHorton2015
A VISIT TO THE DOCTOR
I had a bad cold,
And my throat was sore,
My husband told,
Me to go to the Doctor,
Before I got flu!
I made an appointment and was due,
To be seen at two o’clock.
I sat down next to a young man,
Who had the pock,
He was coughing and
Spluttering all over me,
Can’t you see,
Don’t you care,
Are you not aware,
That you’re spreading your germs,
All around this place,
He got up with a red face,
And sat on a chair at the back
Which fell as he sat for he was big,
And the chair had a crack!
As soon as he left, sat a lady,
She told me she had shingles,
Just to look at her gave me tingles.
I got up very concerned and ready
To take my next seat
I chose one whose occupant I didn’t suspect,
For physically I couldn’t detect,
Anything visible, she told me
She had swine flu,
And my flu vaccine was overdue!
I shot up and was ready to leave,
But the next patient was a toddler
Who seemed very shy, and I
Did not register,
That he seemed to have lumps
His Mom told me
Her youngster had mumps,
After he had sat on my knee,
And had a chew on my car-key!
I phoned my husband and told him,
That I had been in touch with a toddler,
With mumps,
I could immediately hear he fell down
In the dumps
For he had never had mumps,
And disliked the thought of getting
These lumps,
And of course any repercussion thereafter,
Would certainly not be a matter,
For laughter!
As I was about to leave,
A little girl arrived with measles,
Who repeatedly said
Mom I don’t like needles!
This was too much I was going home,
I opened my bag, and put back my phone.
We both thought it was certainly safer,
To go home and take a Corenza!
So if you get sick,
Try and get better on your own,
Or try to speak to your
Doctor on the phone,
For whatever it was I had,
If I’d stayed at the Doctor's rooms
I’d be sicker, sad
And feeling bad!
Night time rituals, that little space of time,
Cathartic relief, along with sweat and grime,
Tribulations of the day wash away, too,
Pool down the sink hole, tomorrow starts brand new.
Night time rituals, bring with them repose:
Weary souls long their weary eyes to close.
Strange to remember, I once felt that way,
Now pain too hard to overcome must still be kept at bay.
So, from night time rituals and sleeping I abstain,
Wild is the gallop of a mind that's slipped its reins.
Sleep is when it gets me, I run for my life,
Run from myself, dreams twisting like a knife.
Drumroll in my ears
Signal danger nears:
Like an arrow I am off,
No spluttering nor cough,
Scaling each fence,
I revel in my strength,
But the faster I go
More obstacles grow.
Hidden in tall grass,
Bold as brass,
I'll rip him asunder
The hunted now the hunter.
Exhilarating chase across a ravaged mind
Preyed upon so long, soon now I shall find...
A bench so familiar, leers into view,
"A wooden resting bench" but now there’re quite a few,
Important, sure, to someone, but that person is not me,
Misfiring neuron in my psyche
I wake up happy, I love to push my body,
Even in dreams, I'm proud of my dexterity.
Doubts creep in, so stealthily at first,
Recalcitrant swimmer who slowly must immerse
In waters so freezing she could die from shock
Can't bear it any longer, I'm diving off the block.
First hits dread
Limbs made of lead
Wasted muscles
Unsteady shuffles
Rasping breath
I'd rather death
Than be pushed around
Wheelchair bound.
Cruel apparition
Subconscious admission
That from my dream those benches
In reality, are trenches,
Where bloodied I fall
No further steps at all,
Scrambling up a battle
My body just will not tackle.
But my own will grown so strong
I'm toldl I’m hearing wrong,
That I won't mend
I cannot, will not, comprehend.
this Democratic Party affiliated member i.e.
considered (with an eye blink)
positing the following blurb
for a very short while
asper the "FAKE" trumpeting
oaf fish shill offal
continuous, indecorous,
and poisonous barbs doth re vile
me, an anonymous middle aged
concerned citizen at thee...reptile
no...no...that, would
unfairly debase creatures such as
snakes, lizards, turtles, or alligators,
whose aggressive acceptable modes,
one expects tubby non servile
thus in my mind hiss non diss incriminating
cruel, fiendish, gallingly jawboning
mawkish philistine (YES,
I MEAN YOU DONALD Quisling TRUMP)
figuratively roasting
respectable people analogous
to rake them over hot coals
then, burn them at the stake,
which witch trial characters assassination
with point blank expletives
found an introspective chap (yours truly)
responds to broadcast
unflattering sentiments,
albeit swiftly tailored harried, yup,
yar...obnoxious fulminations rile,
said brief explanation motive enough
(occurred within a split second)
after gleaning most recent denigrating,
hurtful, lambasting puerile
verbal and/ or twittering outbursts
(MOST DEFINITELY) unstatesmanlike
at least to me: a circumspect enlightened
genteel individual kind nattering
nabob of nativity, who feels alarmed
at venal wickedness by thee ->
President Trump spluttering, smoldering,
slandering gallimaufry
predicated predictable awfully banal,
cringeworthy diurnal,
and fiercely hurt locker ful invective bile
perhaps indicative of dementia praecox
or smother mental illness,
ye would immediately refute,
and be in din aisle.