Long Veritable Poems
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Electorate on tenterhooks until...
outcome of 2020 presidential election announced
Polling places slated to open seven o'clock
in the morning November third two thousand twenty
heightened tensions will strain patience
to breaking point concerning
extreme anticipation common joe experiences
(biden his/her time)
regarding which candidate trumpeted
as de facto commander in chief of United States.
Carpe diem the echoing refrain
heard and seen dispensed and broadcast
across telecommunications medium
cuz the very survival of democracy at stake
ruthless political machinations employed
to seize inalienable codified rights
couched within Declaration of Independence
and Constitution, written ethos, dogma, credo...
compiling aggregate of fundamental principles
or established precedents that constitute
legal basis of a polity, organisation
or other type of entity and commonly
determine how entity governed.
Understanding North American government
inextricably found yours truly agape
when chance occurrence brought hefty tome
into self assigned reading material
which storied author David McCullough
wrote engrossing John Adams biography
I read aloud with measured deliberateness
clearly enunciating each syllable of every word
despite runaway enthusiasm
to acquire historical premise
whereby original thirteen colonies
teetered on brink of immediate collapse
soon after majority representatives
swore fealty among themselves
despite ragtag soldiers
easily overwhelmed courtesy
fighting force of British Empire.
As a staunch affiliate of democratic party,
one veritable common joe
just biding his time,
I trumpet how crass
deleterious, egregious, fractious...
usurpation of power
jackknifed, kickstarted and linked
endemic flood (gushing) hatred
malicious, nefarious, opprobrious putrescence
laid down at the feet
upholding seventy five inches
of corpulent doughy flesh
regarding one conceited, haughty, and obstreperous
politician orchestrating machiavellian leitmotif.
Mark my words, that bull headed incumbent
will clamor, foment, incite, loose chaos
if Democratic candidate garners more votes
at the ballot box nsync with absentee citizens
casting their lot with the worser of two evils
otherwise put head between legs,
and kiss tuckus goodbye,
cuz hell in a handbasket looms on horizon.
Like a tumbleweed aimlessly blowing in the wind
across infinitely open and wide prairie home companion land
(which wasteland famously epitomized by T.S. Elliot)
a barren vista ravages metaphorical landscape
of one measly mortal malcontent male
bumping and scraping along accursed habiliment
just barely avoiding and dodging diabolical demons
mercilessly and unrelentingly ready
to seduce this somewhat sanguine Simian
who finds himself amidst the pitfalls
of a tortured and twisted existence
racked with pinions describe bing
a demonic dragon filled dungeon
damp, dark, demented domains –
a veritable no man’s land
impossible to escape no matter how fast I -
as a foo fighter flee
from the fearful, fierce-some phantasmagoric forms
figments of my imagination seemingly real
tangible as bone and flesh
who haunt sacred crowded house of slumber
transmogrify me into a loathsome madman
ranting raving senseless gibberish and sic gobbledygook
perceived as metaphysically n philosophically insane
as soundgarden syllabification
from one womanly World Wide Web wayfarer
which virtual vagabond venerates vowels
and possesses means and tees to till verse
akin to a sorceress who waves a magic wand
to produce supreme sentences
weaves tantalizing terrific tweed topographic tundra’s
that this admirer of her artful and colorful poetic endeavors
prompts me to accompany my mindscape
as a thought-provoking troubadour
amidst the information super byways and highways
along winding labyrinths of critical thinking
or simply stepping o'er rolling stones
of silly rhymes without wing less reason
all the while giving subtle egress
into that chamber of secrets
long kept shut tight to maintain
that sure footed stance of solitude
whose only entities happened
to constitute trappings of literary lugubriousness
those tombs of largesse identified
as great works and masterpieces of literature
yet careful to avoid complete intimacy
lest that cherished solitude shattered
and a heart rent asunder
twin tower ring inferno imp perils of loss that provide
an understandable cautionary tale
to the author of this rambling missive
a most profoundly perceptive acute Ape man
touched to the quick with a bit of angel dust
aware that this agonized and angst riddled arboreal beast
contents himself with the confines of cyberspace!
When the wolf applied nicely
If he could come in,
The pigs replied thricely he shouldn't.
Then they scratched at the hairs
On their chinny chin chins,
And tightly bolted the door so he wouldn't.
But wolves, when out shopping,
Are not easily put off,
Even faced with the risks they are takin'.
This one ignored the wheezing,
And the nagging, rasping cough,
In his lust for ham, pork chops, and bacon.
First, he blew down the straw house,
Then the one made of sticks,
But by the third he was straining and grasping.
It was a veritable fortress
Of well-mortared bricks,
And emphysema left him panting and gasping.
With one last mournful howl,
The wolf knew he was done
And lay down in the driveway, embarrassed.
The pigs regained their composure
And called 911,
But when the cops came, the wolf claimed he was harassed.
The argument raged
For an hour or more
'til the cops gave them all a citation.
Still gasping for breath
As he slunk from the door,
The wolf was stopped by a squealed invitation.
"Wolfie, oh, Wolfie, please won't you come in?
We'd so like to have you for lunch."
And he would have gone on and ignored the appeal,
If he only knew that "ragout de loup" (pr. rah-goo duh loo)
Was the entrée, but he had no hunch,
And he was not one to pass up a free meal.
When a wolf's sick and hungry,
He might let down his guard
And do dumb things a wolf shouldn't ought to.
But for pigs, it's expedient
To get the final ingredient
Required for a tasty "wolf stew".
The wolf's huffing and puffing
Couldn't even come close
To the pigs' stratagems and devices.
After seven martinis,
It still hadn't dawned on the dope
That intelligence wasn't one of his vices.
If he'd had more brains than brawn,
This poor wolf might have known
That the pigs never meant to surrender.
They'd no more need to fear or hate him,
They knew the booze would marinate him,
So when they served him up and ate him,
He'd be quite succulent and tender.
If this tale has a moral, I'd like to propose
That "three heads are better than one" be selected.
In this case, not the one who worked the hardest,
But the ones who worked the smartest,
And as the little piggies guessed,
The wolf was the perfect luncheon guest.
Of course, their table manners weren't the best,
So they still made pigs of themselves, as expected.
Beauty
Beauty is all around me, in a million different things.
The silvery haired, wrinkled face of one that has impenetrable memories
She smiles and longs for someone, anyone to bust her out of her prison of silence.
It is in the wispy, snowy white, silk of a milkweed as it frees itself of its casing
It arrives in the sound of a beautiful well orchestrated piece of music that penetrates my soul.
In the simplicity of a simple clump of wildflowers that grows freely in the ditch.
As my dog Quincy runs freely with his friend Sawyer
the beauty of their comradery and unbridled joy is unparalleled.
It is in the kindness of those who consider the feelings of others and gently encourage.
It emerges from the generosity at Christmas and unselfish acts all around from veritable strangers.
The lake on a late November afternoon with its shades of bluish greys
And a backdrop of thick denseness but a silvery light reflecting on the water
and peeking through to show me one more surprise before covering up with its blanket of dark.
The tedious overnight work of a spider who sits in wait
in the most radiant web with drops of dew sitting carefully on a strand.
In the spirit of one who never gives up
and remains grateful even after unmentionable hardships and grief.
In the words of the poets claiming words as their own
to create the most unique ways of speaking their truth.
In the love of a couple simply holding hands as they walk.
The joy of a child’s face as he sees his favourite grandpa has come to visit.
Of course, there are the generous sunsets
and flowers of every colour that decorate my outside world
The seagulls that stand on one leg,
The geese that fly to unknown destinations at the same time every day
The elaborate sandcastle built lovingly with a dad on the beach
The nest with chirping baby birds begging furiously to fill their emptiness
made lovingly with grasses and twigs and various treasures.
The smell of beautifully roasted coffee permeating my early morning
It is a beautifully crafted piece of art that is fresh from the soul’s expression of the artist’s brush
I have learned to see the beauty all around and build a life of gratefulness
Beauty surprises and comes in simplest form
Which helps to drown the sorrow that inevitably must come to us all.
Grace Daub
December 1, 2021
Blech - impossible mission to savor mug of ginger tea...
When the entire mug awash
with floating leavings
by golly by gosh,
sipping said herbal brew
analogous challenge
to eat spaghetti squash
with one chopstick.
Earlier yesterday February twenty fourth
two thousand twenty four
found yours truly (me)
blithely consuming delicious
La COLOMBE DOUBLE LATTE
cold iced latte, complete
with a frothy layer
of milk and a touch of sugar.
Lower gastrointestinal war civil
immediately declared
because yours truly beleaguered
by lactose intolerance.
Courtesy veritable sweet tooth
(er...rather dentures)
craved absolute zero sum game yoking,
wickedly villainous, x'acting tummy
upsetting Pavlovian salivating, romancing,
quid pro quo woe pea pie us, orthodox,
conventional, nun habit forming (Lie),
mouth watering, lip locked, kickstarting,
Je Suis ill lust trios, hymn bracing,
gobstopping, feasting immediate laxative
inducing, decadent chocolate baneful
cake courtesy of adoring bubela, (the
same over stuffed ego freezer oft
mentioned counterpart, who unwittingly
prepared spot of tea), charming,
hugely overpowering tenderly loving
zee missus diabolically exuding
"FAKE" gracious humane insinuating
jabbering, knowingly ill loo man hating,
needful offal pestiferous quasi rip
snorting, tush under fire, violent
whooshing, expelling xyz lower
abdominal contractions, indubitably
kindling, jumpstarting instagramming
howling, fostering execrable, debilitating,
besieging posterior, automatically
clutching derriere, experiencing ferocious
gluteus maximus intractable jabbing, knifing,
lacerating, mutilating nameless oaf (me),
painfully quaking das simian, torturously
undergoing vicious wretched excessive
yawping worse fate than death!
Otherwise ass hide from irritable bowel
syndrome approximately
twenty four hours ago
from Saturday February twenty fifth
two thousand twenty four
me quite yawningly wonderful, uneventful,
sedate, quiet, ordinary, mundane, languid,
joyously humdrum, fabulously for
two whit tuss lee drab
characterized local buttuck blaster
also hashtagged endearment
as bubble butt.
Now shall I cut thee a slice of outrageously
luscious, keister jump/kick starting heavenly
gourmet deluxe cheese cake?
Seeing this now, I still, being blinded by them I find I am still frightfully often fighting Him and
this, and these facts.
And knowing myself and knowing no other viable future, without Him.
His love, exults for me, all of us I believe, a true, permanent and abundant freedom and
universal peace, and liberty.
And remaining honorable, adhering to this principal, I believe it awaits openly, rising up each
moment to greet Him ... .
Is always hopeful and willingly revels in His patient coaxing of all of us to try and be as open
in all we do as well individually.
Wanting ... just like Him, in all honesty ... only the best for another and ourselves.
Believing, along with me as I am realizing now myself,
that His grace, always provides for everyone the same opportunity.
And as it moves freely, it sets aside the veritable ... and inevitable, and so I feel grace abides
in the overt nature of love.
Finding its refuge in the eminent fortune, of even more beautiful things to come.
Because I am finding that to love, is to be free.
Yes to love completely is to cherish the innocence within ... and abounding, through
embracing God, myself, another,
the veritable nature of this His world fully, at its and-mine all of ours our most vulnerable.
And so I know that through my schooling, and Him.
Like me ... now, I believe having no other choice tides are surrendered themselves, to the
greater gravity of the Sun.
And so still I know as well rising up honoring him us all of this world, to them scrubbing the
shorelines, blessing the life therein, through this process they are graciously cleans
themselves.
As in turn they are washed out to Sea, again blessing all the life within as they again are
brought to rise back up through Him to greet them behind the combined pull and timely
rotation of it and the Earth on the enchanting nature of the Moon.
All for perfect reason.
So knowing true love I feel is to accept its hand, and dance felicitously mid the tenderness of
its reflection.
Because what is more important to have?
"Feeling-safe" ... knowing a "Perfect" conditional faith and love, mercy ... ?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OaR2JeqxQDY&feature=related
You want to know what annoyeth me? Let me count the ways!
I could weave a veritable tapestry of all my aggravations, mostly in
light and deep crimson hues which signify the violence in my Heart.
Easily I could write a novel that reads like a laundry list of everything that
vex me to no fathomable End.
Pretentiousness, which is the ultimate Sin of Sins, maddens me more
than mere meager words can describe or accurately articulate. An example, perhaps?
Someone who claims to be a better poet than Shakespeare! Such heinous poetic heresy and blatant blasphemy! ONE WORD: HA!
Let's see...what else? Oh, how I loath- despise! an unannounced and
unexpected visitor, a "knock, knock" that sends shivers, like shards of glass,
down my disturbed spine. Yes, I know all about Jesus. No, I don't want to come to your church but I'll smile, be polite and friendly as I decline the invitation, then send you off on your merry way to pester someone else with your nonsense and throw your "literature" in the trash. I wish I lived in an impregnable fortress surrounded by a moat and guarded by ten-thousand Pinkerton Guards. They never sleep.
Driving, what a bedeviling task! Anyone remember the old video game "Spy Hunter" where your vehicle was equipped with bombs and lasers and such? How I wish my car had a machine gun or rocket-launcher turret to get everyone out of my way! Going too slow? KABOOM! Didn't use your turn signal? Ratta-tat-tat-tat-tat-t-a-t-t...-a...-t. So long, buster!
Bad hair-do's are ALMOST as sinful and unforgivable as pretentiousness. I cannot abide a bad hair-do. It's a good thing I'm not a socio/psychopathic autocrat or I would have anyone with an offensive coif shot on sight. When I was in school and big, poofy Aqua-Net shellac soaked , giant crunchy big bangs were all the rage, I took great delight in smashing those immense, granite-like monstrous and monumental mega-pompadours. Some of those do's were hard as bricks, like they were surrounded and protected by some kind of hair force-field. I demolished many a poof in my youth!
This diatribe is just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. I could on and on and on and on and on and on...but I'll trail off here...
*What Annoys You Contest Entry*
JustThatArchaicPoet
Nope! I haint gonna crack'n on the heat... just yet
until the cowed chickens come home to roost!
Sunlight streaming thru window
body electric of mine doth whet
begets hardiness to acclimate
against PECO shut off threat
ideal opportunity to spouse
analogous to her being my emotional pet
snuggling while standing in kitchenette
but accidental twerking
can guarantee yours truly
(me) being recipient of epithet.
I bundle up to stay warm
inside my cold man cave
particularly as average outside temperature
for November twentieth
two thousand and twenty three
hovers between high and low
fifty degrees fahrenheit
nearly brisk enough to see my breath.
I and/or the imaginary paramour
take our separate showers
during warmest hours of the day
less optimal to engage
in neighborly horseplay,
but more ideal for mistress (ha)
to pad around the unit donning her lingerie,
which nonverbally signals
(and greenlights)
more than voluminous words,
hence, I seal lips of mine
despite sudden aroused frisky urge
to burble exhibiting
debauched casanova behavior
accompanied courtesy illustrative
of suave debonair popinjay
rerouting spontaneous seduction today
indicative of throbbing
bulbous anatomical appurtenance,
which protrusion nullifies necessity of x-ray
to identify sudden
source of vasocongestion.
During daylight hours fresh air
arbitrarily, humorously, and noiselessly
streams and wafts
thru screened windows
ushering invisible scents
and audible sounds
of the webbed wide world here,
in Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
our neck of the woods
since seventeenth year
after second century Anno Domini.
Civilizations since time immemorial
revered fiery celestial ball
establishing their respective mythology
which scheme attempted to explain
divine thermonuclear processes
sustaining the nearest star,
which Sol Invictus did enthrall
housing an astronomical object
comprising a luminous spheroid of plasma
held together by self-gravity
within the heavenly vault
divine creator didst install
which supposed movement
in the sheltering sky
signified daytime and nightfall
linkedin with planet earth
a veritable, observable, honorable,
and admirable terrestrial tetherball.
(unsettled conscience beckons expunging)
Upon espying aesthetically pleasing lass
(considerably younger than me),
middle aged ma'am, or classy older woman
impetuousness overtakes rationality
courting acquaintanceship constituting
aforementioned type female
these premature ejaculations
blindside yours truly
upon comfort level
of unfamiliar lady recipient,
(especially years gone by
with then young daughters in tow)
oft times lacked conscientious wherewithal,
how embarrassing offspring felt
at their buffoon papa appearing,
intimating, kickstarting... rapport
at first blush evincing politesse,
yet keen eldest progeny
adept to discern in apropos overture,
despite being well mannered
couched foray, an unconscious insinuation
discerned, hinted, leveraged...
unspoken ulterior motive,
yet honest to dog overt blurting
complement toward veritable stranger
essentially, intrepidly, overtly...
stated genuine pleasantry
attempting to recoup losses
from utterly abysmal
socially withdrawn adolescence
could easily be interpreted
as sexual innuendo
(particularly witnessed by
acutely perceptive first born),
whose reverence, asper in this dada
plummeted, especially cuz
similar instances occurred,
where ambiguity
to formulate unfavorable conclusion
tacked on her growing
list of gripes against dada
loosely analogous to Martin Luther,
whereby his “95 Theses,”
which propounded two central beliefs -
the Bible and central religious authority -
humans may reach salvation only
by their faith and not by their deeds -
was to spark Protestant Reformation,
which essentially kindled
figurative fuel to the fire
incrementally cleaving paternal dotage
undesirable, no matter Pedophilia
never goaded what in mine mind
amounted proving daring do,
since suppressed infatuations
decades past, this then
extremely reclusive knew
nothing about powder milk biscuits
to give shy people the strength
they need to get up and
do what needs to be done.
Thus, an apologia without exception,
whether or not these words seen to deux
darling daughters, plus
other gals who experienced discomfort
at innocuous attempt
to get linkedin with
whirling wide webbing of women.
lemme git down to figurative and virtual brass tacks
and risk introducing this veritable unknown citizen,
who feels Trump stacks
odds against supposedly “making America great again” -
vis a vis when pool sharks queue balls with top dollars on racks
displays absolute blatant commander in chief dearth,..and most often packs
near physical punch via pushing dynamic statecraft to the max
with horse betting odds, that future diplomatic sparring
will in short shrift avail his aggressive combative knick knacks
asses instances of his performance,
essentially, obviously, and unquestionably lacks
basic, democratic, futuristic foresight toward peace and harmony
thus (IN MY MIND), ratchets up local and global agitation,
demonization, gastro-intestinal jacks,
thus this brief communique from neither a constituent,
nor person of renown, but outlier who hacks
his way each day – awash with challenges
(though my location nowhere near the sea)
and myopic eyes of mine zeroing in on an unflattering
(yet on the money – averred to thee Bob Corker),
which comment this rump of a president
by blatantly, blithely, blindly axing bedrock of democracy he emotes
one already maneuvering weapons of mass destruction –
preparing for world war three
mostly arising from self created debacles,
or reverberations from in apropos responses,
now pointing fate of civilization on deadly path,
whose very defense of his own ego – oft a twittering outburst
generally creating Armstrong clustered flacks,
which aggressive stance finds Trump braggadocio
adversarial behavior cornering friends or foes backs
pushed hard against real of illusory wall
alarmingly binding coaxial wires detonating fuse to help ignite
a conflagration fomenting jackass kicking
analogous to O'Leary legend, whereat
setting combustible lantern within kicking range of a cow
sparked Chicago fire – no matter the truthfulness,
implications in my mind, HE DONALD TRUMP
HOLDS THE FATE OF MANKIND
(teetering mighty close to doomsday
on tipping point of two mixed metaphors)
AND AS A CONCERNED VOTER GIVE HIM THE BOOT!