Long Stubbornly Poems
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Sixty-three adjectives insist upon having their way with me
Trixie laughs, as she was the one who dumped them into the air
Amusing to have an amused muse? You tell me.
I try to throw some meat and potatoes down but there is too much dancing.
The ideas swirl off the page like a tiny tornado
Hitting me in the chin, nearly knocking me off my chair.
I get the message.
Begin again. This time throwing down adjective after adjective.
Waiting for a noun; there is none forthcoming.
Trixie is stubbornly keeping the faeries and unicorns to herself today.
Come on! I shriek, throwing my sixth page of adjectives onto the floor.
I hear giggling.
She knows I am malleable, and is taking advantage.
I admire her power.
A bluff master
Once, to my ears did whisper
Pray, listen to me, trust only me
Believe only in me, see only that which I want you to see
Falling prey to his sweet words
I let myself in his flooding waters, be engulfed
I even stopped doubting
For the bluff master was in his own being, a king
I believed that he was a perfect man
I believed that he would be my friend
I believed in his innocence
I let myself by swayed by his own dance
Meanwhile, I had, as support, a bluff Queen
My own friend, the one I called thus at sixteen
Little did I know, that both were with each other, enamored
Little did I know, that they both wanted me to be, deceived
She did also whisper to me, about her loyalty as a friend
To be all prude, she did even pretend
Why, she did cause me to lost interest in my studies
So much that I lost my other friend's companies
Why, grand was the shock
When myself, right at my face, they both did mock
Yes, I had believed in fact, my mind
It did stubbornly want to see everything as being divine
Mind you, I did break, but I did rebuild my self
Pray, faith had been poured into my breath
Now am I made of my own strength
Yes, such does allow me to walk on my road's length
But the faces of the bluff Masters and those bluff Queens
For them I am no more keen
Yes, bluffing does still work for those who do believe in this world's magic
And such does make of them vagrant beings, oh how tragic!
EVERYWHERE, EVERYWHERE, ‘TIS PUMPKIN SPICE!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The leaves haven't even thought about turning,
still stubbornly clinging to summer's green,
but the grocery store screams orange.
You see them, the usual suspects, transformed.
Twinkies, once golden vanilla sponge cakes,
now a suspiciously orange hue,
promising pumpkin spice bliss.
Hostess Cupcakes, frosted swirls of autumnal delight,
their chocolate depths now haunted
by the ghost of gourd.
Oreos, America's favorite cookie,
now betraying their chocolate heart
for a limited-edition fling
with their pumpkin spice centers.
And M&Ms, ah those little,
candy-coated spheres of madness,
each one a tiny, orange lie,
whispering of harvest festivals
and sweater weather.
‘Tis a pumpkin spice apocalypse,
a sugary sweet, nutmeg and cinnamon invasion.
I laugh, a little crazed, a little delighted.
Bring it on, I say,
to the Twinkies, the Hostess cupcakes,
the Oreos, the M&Ms,
let pumpkin spice reign supreme!
Yes, let's be honest,
it's ridiculous, but
I'm totally here for it.
Now, where’s the pumpkin spice Pepto Bismol?!
Fame
When at first we got acquainted
I was tense, somewhat aloof
But she kept on reassuring
Her persistence gave me proof
I would trust her for that reason
And she quickly lured me in
And I had no expectation
That the truth would soon set in
In her presence I felt happy
Celebrated, I must say
I was craving, while enjoying
All the while under her sway
There were moments of discernment
But these were just quick and short
Every process of awakening
She would stubbornly abort
So I reveled in her glitter
While it blinded mind and eyes
I accepted the assumptions
I believed the blatant lies
Cause the much inflated freedom
Left me feeling like a slave
All the praise and adoration
Only made me more depraved
And the evidence was valid
I was lonely, I felt lost
I was trapped in isolation
For I did not count the costs
As I look back I still shudder
For my life was not the same
Since the day I got acquainted
With that monster known as Fame.
I could see,
Amidst the shadows swimming in our murky waters
The many different forms of goodness
That humanity could adorn itself of
These took the names of values, of good habits,
Of good intentions and of meritorious acts
So much that I chose to focus my attention solely on these
Stubbornly refusing to believe that shadows
Could someday
Win and take over the world!
And lifting up my little finger,
I imbibed myself of this goodness
That this world had to offer
Hoping,
Someday, to share it with the rest of the humans
So as to make them believe
In the positive notes that this world could vibe with!
Well my life was pretty good
Till Mom made me walk the goat.
And all I had to do it with
Was a piece of measly rope.
The reason for this tragedy-
Embarrassing,to say the least;
Our foolish goat had indulged herself
In a very gluttonous feast.
When dinner was served the other day
She swallowed more than chewed.
Eating more than the other goats;
A sickly amount of food.
We found her on the floor,
Stomach in distress.
Painfully bemoaning
Her self-inflicted mess.
So Mom decided a plan
To ease her stomach pain:
Every day I'd walk her
(And in the process go insane).
I harnessed her with rope
And tried to get her out.
The others kept escaping
Despite my every shout.
At last I got them in,
With my patient this removed.
Descending the goat shed stairs
Was the next thing I had to do.
I tried to lead her down
But she just stood there at the top.
Pushing and pulling didn't work-
It was like trying to move a rock.
So I picked up the stubborn thing
And brought her down myself.
Our goat had made it clear
That she would be no help
I brought her to a trot
And ran her several laps.
"Why am I her doing this?"
Is a question I'd often ask.
I restrained her many attempts
To wander around and forage.
Dining on toxic plants
Was a habit I had to discourage.
She then became uninterested,
Proceeding to lie down.
In spite of my tugs and pulls
She stubbornly held her ground.
I had to haul her up
Despite her loud complaints.
I tied her to a tree
And left her thus restrained.
I heard her bleats for help
But didn't regret a thing.
My patience was out the window-
Too late for sympathy.
A whole week,I did this,
To help that infernal goat.
By the end of the ordeal
I was starting to lose all hope.
Our dear goat is fine now;
She's no longer in the red.
I've had enough of watching goats;
I'd rather watch chickens instead.
Upon the shores of Alexandria’s gleam,
A Library rose, ambition’s dream,
Where scrolls amassed like autumn leaves,
And scholars spun what mind achieves.
Muse-haunted halls, papyrus gold,
Ptolemaic hands, ambitions bold,
Zenodotus and Eratosthenes,
Measured Homer, measured seas.
Callimachus penned the Pinakes’ art,
Cataloging wisdom, knowledge’s chart.
Hero taught as numbers demand,
While diacritics shaped the poetic land.
Yet history’s tide began its turn,
With exiles forced and scrolls to burn.
Caesar’s fire, a shadow cast,
Yet stubbornly, the Library lasts.
Through Roman years, the dust grew deep,
Support grew thin, the scholars weep.
War and wrath swept ancient halls,
Until silence claimed the marble walls.
Serapeum’s shadow lingered on,
A haven for minds, though nearly gone.
Swept away by decree and strife,
Lost forever, Alexandria’s life.
So knowledge bloomed and knowledge waned,
In Alexandria, wisdom reigned
Until the world forgot its name,
But I'm here to bring back it's fame.
I write much hic cup ado
About nothing, which involuntary explosive release
comes clear out of the hic cup blue
nary a sponge bob square pants handy dandy bellows clue
where in tarnation this uncontrollable bout
jarring the body electric hic cup do
why such physiological spasmodic trembling whacky
baa closure of glottis hic cup ewe
moost likely find annoying as this hic cup ping buck feels few
breaths short of taking drastic action…
like hic cup swallowing glue
as an extreme solution per tha series
of being held hostage hoo
dee knee probably lacked escapist artist skills
even if he trundled to an igloo
to emergency room of a hospital or veterinarian
such hic cup caterwauling catering to gentile cat or Jew
lean, thus, time and again when said hic cup affliction
holds me hic cup ransom knew
does drive me towards acts of desperation
such as sticking ma head in the loo
which bizarre reaction on par with holding
out an appetite until famished for moo
Goo guy pan in mixed with a delicious bowl of new
dulls steeped in broth or an island delicacy renown on Oahu
even this atheist would ask for salivation praying a pew
whereby sound of silence echoed by hic cup right on queue
when nary a burble until reach that amen hic cup rue
stubbornly persists, no matter trying to suppression sue
per upsurge of diaphragm, a diabolical force forcing air thru
nasal passage and/or mouth oft times faintly resembling a u
ca lay lee with a snort accompanied no doubt by a voodoo
Practitioner…until…at last whew
hic cups stop as mysteriously as they started
bringing relief to this caged primate in a zoo.
Do you sit in an empty room,
and talk to the space were very nearly soon-
and not nearly soon enough-I will be too?
Do you talk to me like I talk to you?
Do you imagine the shape of me?
Do you hear my voice,
feel my breath,
The empty, pulling, hollow death
that pulls me to you?
And do you fight
to grip me in your today,
as I make my home
stubbornly in you tomorrow,
leaving you, cold lonely, and blue?
Do you know how I miss you?
Even though our first meeting
is not yet yesterday,
I find a way to remember
the sweet moments
that we will one day share.
I promise I will meet you there.
I will see you on the horizon
of the life I have been waiting to give you-
waiting with joy, frustration, and sorrow.
Meet me today, And I will give you tomorrow.
While I sat at a sofa
In the living room
I looked everywhere
No one was there
My parents sleeping, my sister sick
And I am waiting for the bus
Suddenly the made called for me:
The bus louzana
So I carried my stuff and off I went
Sitting in the bus…
My sister and I not looking
At each other
My shoulders, back and arms paining me like hell
I await my death that is in my mind everyday
While I spoke to lina & she so stubbornly acted
I tried to act grown- fully
I tried to let down my temper
And so I thought and regretted
I didn’t do a thing to say
I did not hurt a soul to cry
Then I got sad and very mad
I wish and so I wished
If he will ever talk to me again
Its been three weeks
And there was not even one reply
And so I looked and I thought
I tried to change the topic
But it remain grabbing my mind’s attention
Oh I humph why, why and why?
Where did my rising sun go ?
Where did my angel of love fly?
I am left alone,
Not to be loved…
Not to be taken…