Long Uninitiated Poems
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Written: September 1st 2023
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Blithering from the depths, every word I trace
A crimson river of my soul's embrace.
Ink spills such as tears onto a vacant page.
Etching tales of love, joy, and rage.
A metronome dances in sync,
To the music of your soul, a rhythmic link
Each beat resonates with passion and desire.
Fueling the flames of a poetic fire
Fallen leaves create a carpet of gold.
As nature's beauty begins to unfold.
Green smooths dirt between its knuckles,
As life takes root and slowly chuckles.
Multiplying ways, all but bright,
In the morning sun's riddling light.
Booby traps for the uninitiated few
On these paths, only the chosen flew.
Times appease, akin to a gentle breeze,
Piling wafers of moments, memories at ease
Lines of trees sway to a musical tune.
Their leaves whisper secrets beneath the moon.
The vast blueberry moon is humming along.
To our symphony, a harmonious song
Our souls entwined in this grand display,
Creating melodies that will never fade away.
With each word written, each note played,
A symphony of souls, forever displayed
In the depths of our blithering hearts,
We find solace in this artistic art.
The crimson river flows with grace.
As we pour our souls into this sacred space.
The metronome keeps time with our depleted hearts.
As we delve deeper into the magical arts.
The paths we tread may be treacherous and unknown.
But together, we navigate, and we've grown.
The morning sun's light reveals hidden treasures.
As we unravel the mysteries and measure our pleasures.
You begin your journey lonely beyond imagination - an emotional place I can barely begin to describe to the uninitiated.
Your body, primed by puberty, has these new, natural abilities - you develop these secret ambitions for yourself that push you hard.
You search for that someone. To use the technical term - you, “kiss a few frogs” - to fine tune the impossibly fragile internal instruments that detect the elusive, magical “it.”
You pretend you’ve simply struck up friendships, the girl and the boy. It can’t last, this state of congenial denial - there are too many unspoken pressures - the suspense weighs on you both.
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ps, I write short stories too
You whispered to me: "From where does this strange melancholy arise
That ascends like a mountain on a silent, empty plain?"
When the soul has finished its harvest, we feel
Life is a wound. This secret we all know.
It's a pure suffering, not at all enigmatic
And clear, like you when you smile and brighten the world
Don't search in vain, my beautiful curious one
And now, although your voice is so melodic, be silent!
Be silent, uninitiated one! Soul that knows no darkness!
Innocent mouth! Even more than Life
Death has often caught us in its subtle traps
Better to intoxicate myself with an illusion and peacefully
Sink into your clear eyes as in a dream
And gently fall asleep in the shadow that slips from your eyelids!
We live by the sea, just we two, you and me
It offers us all that we need
From our heads to our toes, you make all of our clothes
From sea grass and sometimes sea weed
If our ocean provides it, you will utilise it
I so like the way that you think
Our clothes made from stuff that you found on the beach
But your feet, well they surely do stink
Those earrings you made from a couple of cockles
That pendant you made from a shell
Your bikini top is a strap and two scallops
But your feet, they surely do smell
I keep us well fed from the sea and sea bed
While you keep us suited and booted
You’re my Wonder Woman it has to be said
But your feet, well they really are putrid
We sit on the shore and we like nothing more
Than watching the waders and dippers
But we can’t stay long, there’s a God-awful pong
For your slippers are made out of kippers
[For the uninitiated, kippers are butterflied, smoked herring.]
[For the uninitiated or for the inebriated
Or because I fear my story might be underrated
I feel I should advise you using any fact that fits
That Sixgun Sid has wooden legs and other wooden bits.]
****
Sixgun Sid stood in the dock and swore he didn't know
Why ladies didn’t like his wooden member down below
He said, “Some things go hand in hand with rocking to and fro
That’s how I left a splinter where a splinter shouldn't go
“She dragged me in the shrubbery and took me there and then
I thought she was euphoric when she squealed out loud but then…
I had a smoothness problem as your witness has attested
And so I grabbed some sandpaper… and got myself arrested
“I’ll swear before this court she was all over me that day
But then my wooden legs etcetera made her stop and say,
‘Why can’t you, like other cowboys, just shoot from the hip?’
But then she spent ten minutes pulling splinters from her lip.”
The judge said, “I have heard enough, my judgement will be sound
You shared your love, but also, she was putting it around
I think that I should send you to the gallows with your lover
But I’m concerned those gallows might turn out to be your brother.”
How cool to sway naïves unaware,
Cooler still, a man of ken fair,
Even a wall were I persist,
Not one— a half-wit puffed with air!
How pundits are plagued with spite’s tide,
Powerful with over-spilling pride,
Green horns nigh uninitiated,
Vexed, my verses had once decried.
One may from a croc’s jaws get free,
May sail across a maddened sea,
Wrap a cobra around his neck,
How hard to please one, fool that be!
Not so hard to get oil from sand,
Quench thirst off mirage in parched land,
Even to fetch a rabbit’s horn,
How hard to bring round a ham hand.
What fascinates: world’s attitude,
In other’s ill luck feeling good—
Schadenfreude and a Freudian glee,
How world’s today stuck with the crude!
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Tongue-in-cheek |06.05.2022|
Fascination and Awe Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Jeff Kyser
Base Ball
Give me basically any ball and I love it
Hate to say it is Rugby this side of the
Ocean that divides but we are joined by
the language though we call it ‘Rounders’
Round ball and here it is the oval crick and crack where
talent meets and bats propel with sonar
speed and sweet delight when cheering leaders
sport their curves and acrobatic tantra
For uninitiated and confused spectators
a leather bullet approaches with all its might
some poor guy or gal not allowed to duck
or dive but brace it with just a wooden stick
Projectile forces redirected emphasize the
need to run around in squares of enchantment
with crowds jumping up and down hand to
heart in orchestrated anthems of support
When all the running hitting throwing stops
and all the adverts are digested the better
side has won but everyone should receive
a shiny medal for taking part in unison
Innings and outings have a greater meaning
though once philistines have counted all
their blessings and aggression has abated
it’s just a game and warfare was transcribed
When followers of baseball passion leave the
stadium and paraphernalia crown the streets
good shots and hitmen women of gymnastic pride
agree that ball and basic instincts kept the Peace
Embedded in national culture heritage and thrill
the soft sporty cushion of engagement bereft of
disproportional lateral harm and collateral damage
has shown the world for once a peaceful resolution
11th February 2017
'Tis a challenge fer the uninitiated to drive a Model 'T' Ford!
There sure ain't no starter, automatic transmission or GPS aboard!
To start it, you must select the magneto settin' and adjust the choke,
Then, at yer peril, spin the crank and pray that yer arm don't git broke!
There's a baffln' array of switches, levers and pedals to operate,
That take a heap of coordination to get the 'T' ready to navigate.
There's three pedals located on the floor - clutch, reverse and brake.
If you know yer left foot from yer right, drivin' the old girl is a piece of cake!
To go forward, advance the throttle lever located jes' below the steerin' wheel.
Press the clutch pedal with yer left foot - with experience you'll git the feel.
To back up, stop the car, disengage the clutch and press the pedal fer reverse.
Be sure there's nothin' behind you - you might hit yer mother-in-law or worse!
In an emergency, stomp all three foot pedals to avoid hittin' a telephone pole!
That'll bring you to a joltin' stop and provide you with a modicum of control.
Use the oogah-oogah horn to shoo chickens, cows and goats outta yer way.
If you slaughter a farmer's critters, you'll sure enough have 'ell to pay!
Now you know more'n you ever wanted to know about drivin' a Model 'T',
And you've gained this invaluable enlightenment and it was all fer free!
If you are foolish enough to drive a 'T' I'd advise you to drive with care,
And if I may paraphrase the Good Book - "Gird your loins with faith and prayer!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Adventure begins at Eventfull_Tide.
A place that destiny becomes,
excited in power that chooses to reside
electric-marrowed,- bare in the bones.
The hourglass stops,- measuring
the interim annexations.
Prime is back again.
Where the waves of the substantial
seduce over the cosmic sands.
Open to possibility all frequency bands.
Become:
Nerve endings, lick-coated swollen
Oathed.
Given the sustenance that drips
down, polished, adorned.
Totem-Statute -borne-_-born-
The source is all and all.
Liquid is the quiet in freefall.
Thick and effortless.
Lubricated by the surge of mindsilver.
The uninitiated- moonlighting a
witness through whispered-
association of secret lever.
The Great Pond ripples of something
impending, flowing.-
In the silver mirror of the knowing.-
The silky smooth ultra wet
welcoming of significance.
Arouse the fogs of ceremony-
the mists of the extraordinary-
are awakened after a long slumber.
To remind once again of something more.
There’s a lot of heat when all eight
of us suitemates are together.
I might have mentioned it somewhere.
We’re like surround sound,
or eight car alarms going off together,
it’s jabberwocky by an established team.
It can get frantic and frightening
for the uninitiated or inhibited.
Some of us are pretty boy-crazy
and there’s a mix-in of twinkling girl-crazy too.
We’re basey, bugzee, spaceheads and freaks,
yeah, we're the whole emotional spice rack.
“She’s a good person to kill time with,”
is pretty high praise around here
because we have so little free time.
But these are good people to kill time with.
And they’re portable, we travel, we invade,
we’re crazy young women who’ve got it made.
So if you’re coming at us, trying to enter our enclave,
you better be brave or a situational upgrade.
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Songs for this:
No New Friends (feat. Sia, Diplo & Labrinth) by LSD
Lysergic Bliss by of Montreal
Freedom Is Free by Chicano Batman
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slang…
basey = a cool loser, nice but a bit odd, a weirdo with style
bugzee = slightly crazy
spaceheads = people who talk about weird things
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Webster: Jabberwocky = meaningless speech or communication.