Long Ticky Poems
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The wrecking ball long since
demolished boyhood house zen
located at 324 Level Road,
a once rural residence,
which soulful yen
I called home
since February 28th, 1968, when
Boyce and Harriet Harris
(my octogenarian
widower father, a transplanted urban
cowpoke father, and late outskirts
of poker flats mother) than
experienced livingsocial in the country,
cuz aforesaid domain didst span,
and encompass,
one hundred plus acre estate
listed in national register
as "Glen Elm", where ran
woodland surrounding a golden pond
favored by Canadian Geese,
but under game plan
of commercial developer Donald Neilson
(a tall lumbering
"all business no play doh" man
blueprints drafted for
an army of vinyl city
exemplifying Little boxes
on the hillside ditty
Little boxes made of ticky tacky...gritty
material upending wildlife refuge,
ah...what a pity
yet, impossible to stop industrialization,
the das capital way
spurring thy preferential longing
for nature preservation oye vey,
and to make a million bucks in USA
if land left off limits
for propertied class today
then in the near future,
an aggressive builder will sashay
confirming prophecy
scooping up gobs of profit
out maneuvering competition
analogous to a marathon relay
race quickly witnessing little boxes
to sprout all the same
by construction workers,
who hammer away,
nailing steady income,
viz all work and no play,
who maxim eyes
American middle class dream
asper buying affordable home
after acquiring a mortgage to outlay
their limited choice sans, may
be there's a green one and a pink one
and a blue one and yellow one, how zing
free enterprise, and they're
all made out of ticky tacky
held together on a wing
and prayer they all look
LXII+ years old and he still carries a security blanket
Move over Linus
Van Pelt of Peanuts fame,
cuz yours truly
also psychologically lame
since prepubescence
mine noticeably long hair
delivered inner comfort,
yet found some classmates
calling me "hippy" by name
though other tormentors among them
hurled expletive laced offensive insults
even ethnic slurs much less tame.
Absolute zero
anti-bullying laws prevailed ahoy
when reasonably rhyming poet
just a little beastie boy
"mean kids" hurtful tactics
they did deploy,
though one bookish lad named Donald Hoy,
he rode the same bus as me,
and most likely practiced magic ploy
to ward off nemesis.
Impossible mission
to detangle mane reason why
I experienced omnipotent
hair reed bond neither thy
father, mother nor therapist
could understand or qualify
outsize (obsessive/compulsive)
significance well nigh
much more (hyperbolically writing)
blatantly mystifying and unsettling
versus comprehending meaning
regarding the bridge on the River Kwai,
whereat these long strands
emanating from scalp, I
imagined them extending
out into space into no fly
zone, and if adored locks threatened
with someone brandishing scissors
one puny lad would cry.
Parents did not berate,
when early within mein kampf,
no matter my mother did execrate
obsessive compulsive thoughts did instigate
long necked pencil geek son
did unwittingly irritate
analogous to Samson
(though Delilah not my mate),
I imbue power courtesy each golden lock
atop me addled sub tracked pate,
where fifty plus shades of gray matter
houses ticky tacky psyche substrate,
which doth bubble, gurgle and percolate.
Only upon taking me last breath of air
viz, when grim reaper delivers death,
I will unroll welcome me
Scottish Harris tweed mat without fanfare
(for this common man),
and just maybe allow, enable, and provide
thee opportunity for scissors
to lop off longish straggly hair
subsequently repurposed into a
security blanket ideally suited
to create creature comfort within lair
for garden variety and generic caveman,
who truth be told lives very near
yours truly in Schwenksville.
Moshe, Larry, Curly,
Howls, cries, nyuks;
Three silly comic stars:
Smile, clown -- Cluck!
Chico, Harpo, Benny, Berle,
Moron grins, happy chins;
Crazy nutty comic kooks:
Funny jokes -- egads zooks!
Alvin Ailey, dance gaily,
False teeth: Brush daily;
Silly Sally, Dilly-dally,
Ollie, Holly, Mollie!
Belly flops, fatal plops,
Messy slops, lemon drops;
Harry Caray, Tooth Fairy,
Music Maven -- Chuck Berry.
Pitty-patty, kitty-katty,
Ticky-tacky, Cinci-nnati
Polly-Wolly, Wooly Bully,
Diffy-daffy, Laughy Taffy!
March 22, 2018
Contest entry in "A little laughter five," sponsored by
Edward McCall, closing date - March 23, 2018
Notes: Moe Howard's (of the Three Stooges) actual first name was Moshe.
'Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk' was a trademark line of Curly (3 Stooges.)
Berle is comedian: Milton Berle (aka 'Uncle Miltie').
'Egads zooks' is an exclamation my mother and others of her
generation used to use (frequently).
'Wooly Bully' was a pop song by Sam the Sham and the Pharoahs,
released in 1965; it soared high on the Top-40 charts.
5:02 AM Eastern Time Monday,
December 21
Location: 2 Highland Manor Drive
Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
40.2562° N, 75.4638° W
Daylight 7:21 am – 4:39 pm
9 hours, 18 minutes
Mine circadian rhythm pulsates bright
imperceptible increments of daylight
increase fantasy fanciful heavenly flight
as I imagine myself
Icarus fearlessly gaining height
blindly heading into sunbeam light
strongly advised courtesy experts to travel
toward nearest star at night,
nevertheless unbeknownst plight
awaits me should foolhardiness
skew sense and sensibility right
off kilter yours truly blithely soars
reins of waxed wings held tight.
Plus I, a garden variety generic guy
aging long haired pencil neck geek
who presently wonders why,
rare astronomical phenomena
hashtagged great conjunction doth defy
illusory phenomena whereby,
two largest planets of solar system
Jupiter and Saturn separated in the sky
by and bye
6 arcminutes at their closest point,
which was the closest separation
between the two planets since 1623.
Inhabitants upon solar systems far and wide
will find Earthlings and aliens alike
their curiosity well supplied
out of world event
sponsored courtesy monopolists,
who govern Geico and Nationwide
renown companies insuring property on hillside
made of ticky tack
indirectly, fueled, impacted, and launched
segregation and next of kin apartheid.
Unfair injustice heaped mainly
upon persons of color
playing race card basic rights to win
i.e. those beautiful people
gifted with darker skin
think swarthy complexion.
Hence motive to join reparations committee
(no time to wait)
linkedin with Cherry Hill, New Jersey
Unitarian Fellowship albeit remotely
suddenly aware white privilege,
I (sheepishly admit) ashamedly state
an unspoken mandate
to be positive force and help negate
(at least when I feel better -
yours truly plagued with panic attack)
and help eradicate
white supremacists trumpeting hate.
'Tick', 'tock', 'tick', 'tock', the ticky-tocky click of the clock continued to beep
'Ree-raw', 'ree-raw', the roaring of the frogs was heard over and over in the deep
I stood awake to solve a riddle, a jigsaw puzzle, denying my eyes of sleep
Caged in a cottage of low rentage my wage could pay, hoping I did keep
'Ko', 'ko', 'ko', 'ko', was the jangly sound from the corner where the roof did leak
Hitting hard my tympanum as the woodpecker does the tree with its beak
"Oh no!, I'll have to go" were the very words my sullen mouth could speak
Indeed!, first thing before noon, it was the Thatcher that I'll have to go seek.
“Little boxes on the hillside; Little boxes made of ticky tacky
Little boxes on the hillside; Little boxes all the same”
from first verse of “Little Boxes” by Malvina Reynolds
Vanilla Is . . .
the typical white picket fence
surrounding the front yard of a ticky tack house
It’s a sunless sky
waiting for a rainbow to embrace it
It’s an ordinary bird’s egg
before the burst of life emerges from it
It’s a pie without the fruit;
a cake with no frosting
It’s the color of eyes grown dull
longing for a glimpse of romance
It’s my skin untouched by summer -
still breathing winter’s snow
It’s the quickly fading fragrance of inexpensive cologne
as Tabu's more sensuous scent lingers on and on
It’s a milky white-washed soul
of unexceptional interest
It’s a lackluster longing
for nothing in particular
As I see it, vanilla is
the epitome
of monotony
(to be read out loud)
I'll eat the nibble naggle nooky nickel
nipple nappy mum mum mum
I'll chew your gooble gobble giggle gaggle
gimpy grampa's gum gum gum.
I'll call the wimpy wappy wiggle waggle
wacky wobble wum wum wum
I'll drink the wiggin' wimple whoopy whacker
wookie worker's rum rum rum.
Woo wow wee wah
Geegaw mee mah
Hee haw hoo har hey hey hey.
Mao moo mud muck
Wigwam poobah
Mad mook mick mack yay yay yay.
I'll have a murky muddle maple maggot
monkey marbles chum chum chum
I raised a ticky tacky tinky tonka
tailor's tiny thumb thumb thumb.
I'm really punky pickled pooka puckers
pitter patter dumb dumb dumb
I hear my diggle daggle doggy dingle
diddle daddled hum hum hum.
Christmas time was the best memory under the pine tree.
In South Africa we do not have a snowman and reindeers,
Instead we celebrated it with cookies and ginger beer.
Days before Christmas we will make wreaths,
Out of cinnamon cookies and sweet treats.
Passing houses in the street, you will hear Bonny M
Singing on the beat of the drummer boy I will stomp my feet.
Baking cookies with mum, I had so much fun.
Three days before Christmas Eve, we will decorate our pine tree.
A star will be put on top that was always my job.
On Christmas Eve we will dress up,
and wait till midnight for the ticky band with a 5 cent in our hand.
All dress up in black and white,
They will sing O Holy Night,
And under the tree we will end with Silent Night.
The night won’t stop there, because presents must still be shared.
You cannot wait till they call your name,
Presents was a week before on your brain.
I received a red, plastic dialing phone,
First toy I could call my own.
Christmas under the tree,
Was my sweet memory.
Date: 7/5/21
Contest: A 3-6-9
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
February 28th, 1968 marked the date
Boyce Brandon Harris
(my octogenarian widower father)
purchased a small tract of land
Pooh would Winnie
constituting shadowed sliver
once hailing, hallmarking, harkening,
glorious vast "Glen Elm" estate,
which circa 1910 encompassed
a hundred plus acres of woodland
(including a pond frequented
by migrating Canadian Geese)
eventually zoned for commercial,
industrial, and residential development
(all in the name of productive land use)
particularly put into motion
courtesy Donald J. Neilson,
who transformed expansive woodland
rivaling shutterfly
sprouting like mushrooms towed stools
booming explosively
after ample precipitation
little houses on the hillside
little houses made of ticky tacky...
popped up overnight
transforming landscape
displacing flora and fauna with vinyl city
(minus spit of property papa bought)
manicured bumped uglies with wild wisp
reduced pristine niche leftover jot haven
squawking disoriented geese instincts
thwarted, where drained wetlands
a Arcadian past suburbanization
overlaying (palimpsest like) rural setting
trademark bucolic print Currier And Ives
stock in trade signature prints
landscape sparse human population
country aire sprinkled with family farms
fresh dairy, produce, vegetables
butchered animals free ranging
without synthetic injections
nostalgia faintly recreated here
Highland Manor Apartments
Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
a slip of country revered
against a Paul Ling urbanization
nothing appears familiar
retracing roadways now major highways
frequent moments breeds alienation
familiar ground confusing, frightening, and perplexing.
Like A Fire Cat - Teaser Taste Of Spring...
Did Fistbump With Ole Man Winter
Once again, this fella alights
this poetaster and trots out weather,
nope not cuz freezing cold bites,
this poetic instance highlights
spate of unseasonably warm temperatures
circa early February 2019,
melting oppressive plights,
whereby totally tubular solar balm
energizes and alights
to zoom into heavenly heights
pleasantly zapping dendrites
with heaven sent
sunny rays, which excites
every fiber of this fella, writes,
a diametrically opposite
meteorological pleasure
pitch perfect to fly kites
versus torturous blast, sans
polar vortex arctic
cold one futilely fights,
where no complaint as
ecstasy knows no heights,
asper in above average winter
cathartically, holistically,
therapeutically... quiets
cabin fever with sneak
preview of summer -
skipping over stone temple rites
of spring despite dramatic
unseasonably warm weather
this anomaly nonetheless delights
this wordsmith voluntarily
holed up days and nights
from bone chilling, crushing brutal
(cudgel wielding) cold
understandably inducing flights
of fantasy imagining
(like...just yesterday)
hightailing to tropical
island paradise sights
blinds this sun worshipper
twittering revelling,
basking with robins
noah matter an old gipper
slakes insatiable thirsts
nsync with teetotaling
brewster herbalist honeydripper
ah... methinks this clime
makes me chipper
recalling good ole times
feeling like a day tripper
sprawled out atop roofed mansion
fronting happy hunting grounds
upon memory steadfast gripper
amidst haunting demesne
of "Glen Elm" transformed
courtesy where backhoes did stripper
of native flora and fauna
into ticky tack vinyl city for hipper
crats all in the name of progress!