Long Whereat Poems

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Preponderance of Dimensions Perplexes With Bliss String Fervor

Preponderance of dimensions perplexes with bliss string fervor

Lake mine previous 
(stream of consciousness 
imponderable) poetic efforts,
sans spiritus mundi, converse
sing a boot unfamiliar thread,
and ignored common
sense ne'er re: hearse
sing, asper William Butler Yeats,
aye went off deep end, perhaps
provoked at least une nurse
sis sear re: literary unlicensed violation,

and additionally one emphatic curse,
where mine poe whet
tick feet did immerse
for the methamphetamine time acid,
(I said to myself), why traverse
pointlessly imagining something worse
tread about, i.e. say...tripping
along head over heels, yet
nagging notion would not disperse
venturing blithely writing

plunging into terra incognita parallel
universe a "multiverse"
herewith also Ark
chew woolly Noah intent
for yours truly to drown while purse
sue wing abstract notion,
viz domain of science fiction,
never intermittently intersperse
sing following lines with "HELP, I need
somebody...", nor deliberately submerge
readers within a mini sea course

of confusion, but I feel confounded
gripped, lured...and will gladly reimburse,
should delving over my head diverse
if eyeing breadth, length, scope...
beyond realm of mom and pop verse
a tile theoretical physicists,
who casually identify ten dimensions
— eleven including time, nor averse
slithering thru worm holes
such more'n flight of fancy seems perverse,

whereat numberless whirled
wide webs presents obverse
to accepted paradigm reverse
sing scientific tenets describing
quarks, plus portal bellow much
room (See Alice in Wonderland) disperse
sing notions, where exodus 
down the rabbit hole
into alternate self contained
separate cosmological infinitesimal channels
far more exciting than reality television!
Form: Rhyme


Into the Maelstrom

(hub bur rigid version.)

All la names bespeaking deity froom
     Noah Mo' Room India Arc
     of Covenant to Blood
     (sweat and tears) of
     San Gennaro devout wowed,
and/or Turin shroud
consonantly demonstrably, 
     desperately, faintly, glumly

     yet plaintively, muttered aloud,
no evading the steadily avowed
Atheist approaching funnel
     (dum mental) stormy cloud,
cuz far as the eye could see -
     at least by this Beatle browed
     bipedal hominid (north, south,
     east, and west),

     the conical, demoniacal,
     and elliptical endowed
sky high reversed cone, bow wowed
wailing 10,000 maniacs +
     same number of banshees
     wove weft and white
     across wide whirled web
     whereat, the black vortex

     vacuumed everything 
     in sight (chowed
down) with loud violent row
dee earsplitting sound everything
     within a vast path got plowed
obliterated, and annihilated proud
lee into bajillion smithereens,
     hence mine entire being

     held spellbindingly agog
frozen in place ruff akin
     to well trained dog
without a chance to bark a blog
mired stock still courtesy, sans
     extreme fear comp
     pounded (zero apr) via
     quintessential supreme tear

     roar immovable paralysis
     plus helpless as pollywog
lacking seizure of critical
     whatsapp cerebral cog
as if blinded by a mental fog,
cuz nothing withstood
     the incalculable suction
     emitting barrage of sounds -

     hmm...methinks or imagined,
     I heard cry of a hog
amidst the pandemonium,
     plus uproarious, ominous,
     and insidious howl,
though still some 
     scant miles removed, 
the deafening roar

     felt like top of my head
     blasted unable to jog
free (like a bajillion trained
     thundering monsters at log
er heads) these screaming
     quasi nemesis seemingly
     horrifically, and directly
     into my tender ears.

Variations On a Theme

Variations On A Theme...
Ach'n (ache Ken) Existential Struggle...

(NOT by Bellini, Paganini, Rossini...
Eeny Meany Miney Moe - si,
nor the three stooges tee hee hee)

twill never end till...this oft writ trend
of mine will never end,
only when...mortality
ike'n no longer defend!

Thus...once again, (or...as per usual),
this poem iz a boot
ruminations about bout,
who else except this ole coot
at das receiving end damned
lifetime role, and goot

raw end of deal, sans docks side of
moon efficient intervention
(teachers never gave a hoot)
as they appeared oblivious,
how moost all classmates did loot

mine emotional account, viz
cheap trick super tramp ping coot
tees reviled, renounced,
and wreaked havoc as root
of all misfortunate previous

to mine existence,
as iced (sic culled) hood
reaper remained mute
and scythe lent,
while (cue in dolorous)

melody issued from
Mose Arts magic flute,
whereat serpent (also known
in political circles as
Sally Salamander Newt

Gingrich) charmed goaded,
and relentlessly needled
Eve with snake hushed snoot,
thenceforth viper got ramrod
rigid taut as jute

of course this a fallacy as
just smore hove my fruit
fully "FAKE" pre fabric hated
discombobulated trumpeting ill suit
head prevarications – more

offal than glute
tee us expulsion, donned
as invisible faux poetic
apparel clothing with astute
cheeky effects,  thus allowing, 
enabling, and providing

adapt tub bull usage as zoot suit,
or as space age jumpsuit,
when I travel (with my cute Malamute
outsize prairie dog like fine home
companion) to the outer limits

of the twilight zone,
which groovy farout signals
detected by vodafone
and desperate plea made
to aliens to abduct me

(receiving an affirmative
digital binary tone)
courtesy of publishers,
unlike the negative responses,

predictably forecast, no complex koan
but clear as day -
inducing a slight inward moan,
which figurative slap in face

finding yours figuratively prone,
hence...a recurring well known
fantasy regarding plucking
this chicken (198920) heart lee
moss see rolling stone.
Form: Bio

Premium Member Gen Z vs Baby Boomers

What battle-worn baby boomers lived through 
Gentle Gen Z rug rats don’t have a clue. 
Growing up street smart in subdivision
Without much parental supervision. 

Boomers devoured books and magazines, 
While Gen Z distil life thrills from their screens. 
Going outdoors? Too much hassle whereat
Life downloads faster in an online chat. 

Boomers had to climb to reach the summit -
“Too long to bother”, say Gen Z, “Damn it!”
Boomers’ love connections - hard at first sight,
Compared to Tinder swiping left or right. 

OMG! Gen Z dares to attach 
To someone who, in fact, is not a match. 
With boomers arduous life played hard to get: 
Before achieving breakthrough, break a sweat. 

Gen Z have it all savvy and clever, 
Their creed is wifi speed, faster than ever. 
Solutions to life hurdles? Browse the net! 
Sophisticate AI - better yet. 

In short, the generation gap in place 
As history repeats, fast forward pace. 
But we unconditionally love you, 
As grandparents and baby boomers too!
Form: Rhyme

Growing my hair down below my knees

Growing my hair down below my knees...

stimulated courtesy follicles,
where Coconut, Olive, Grapeseed,
Jojoba, Amla and Vitamin E oils
allowed, enabled,
and provided head start
germinating peach fuzz into brown strands
after Flaxseeds, Pumpkin seeds and Fenugreek
being sprinkled on my scalp
yielded a bumper crop of hirsute weeds
occasionally tripping me up

analogous to hallucinogen
causing a public health hazard
warranting, necessitating, and goading me
to give shout out for stylist
to tender mine lovely brunette locks,
which might be repurposed into a wig
for patients undergoing chemotherapy,
or afflicted with alopecia,
(the partial or complete absence
of hair from areas of the body
where it normally grows; baldness).

As a knobby kneed, puny,
scrawny, wimpy kid whose,
(back in the nineteen sixties),
his parents decreed their singular
(painfully shy dorky, geeky and nerdy)
old school boy who sported a buzz cut,
which found him reacting and responding
(in short order rebelling)
passive aggressively by
refusing to bathe

until mommy dearest demanded
(well nigh upon
the bewitching hour of midnight)
to witness her son soaked 
and essentially marinated
(until my skin shriveled like a prune)
in the (clawfoot) tub
lest he stink to high heavens,
and given a serious dressing down
by the timely principal Mister Clock.

Far back as I can remember,
the significance of hair
assumed an outsize role,
whether enviously eying other lads
their thick straight hank,
or nowadays bristling
with self reproach
cursed with thinning
greasy limp strands
(interspersed with gray)

experiencing shame being seen in public,
a disgrace to our family name of Wagstaff
and an embarrassment 
to the human race
ofttimes associating 
myself with Samson,
whereat emotional, physical,
and spiritual strength
rooted (pun intended)
within each hair shaft

(the visible part of the hair
that sticks out of the skin),
and rooted in the skin and extends
down to the deeper layers of the skin
surrounded by the hair follicle
(a sheath of skin
and connective tissue),
which is also connected
to a sebaceous gland.


Donning rubber gloves, the wife does washing of clothes and dishes

Donning rubber gloves, the wife does washing of clothes and dishes...
(plus cutlery, pots pans, et cetera) in the kitchenette sink.

She started what would immediately become 
a first and last generation tradition
(the spouse as washer woman
and scullery maid)
soon after we moved here
eight years ago come July 1st, 2025.

I trumpet her pioneer spirit
to apply elbow grease
(to tackle tough
heavily stained articles of clothing
(after her weary cowboy husband 
comes back home on the range 
after a hot day rustling cattle)
think underwear of mine -
whereat even bleach
falls short of removing
stubborn noticeable discoloration)
such gusto similarly applied 
to glassware or cookware caked 
with crusty hardened food.

After washing wearable goods, 
she squeezes the excess water
from saturated item(s)
and drapes still moderately wet garment
over drying racks
despite the availability
of clothes washers and dryers
here on the premises
of Highland Manor Apartments.

Though she continues to threaten
with colorful epithets
never to wash my clothes ever again,
her words ring hollow
when some time elapses
and... guess what?
yepper, her hands slide down
into the behavioral sink
and I make sure
to acknowledge gratitude,
yet admit to falling short
of filling in the blank
(with a select response),
when she asks me
what will I give her in return.

Earlier in our
almost thirty year marriage,
we (I more so than the wife)
used to be conditional
and if asked a favor,
the immediate response
from yours truly (me)
just so happened to be
what do I get in return?

That Pavlovian feedback loop
occurred way before
my libido took a kamikaze dive,
into a suicide mission
a strong suspicion arises
(but I dare not utter 
a premature ejaculation)
videlicet that being adverse effects
linkedin with one or more
of the nine prescription medications
ingested for mental health issues
such as anxiety, dysthymia,
obsessive compulsive disorder,
and palmar hyperhidrosis
could be the only logical explanation,
and interestingly enough, 
I breathe a sigh of relief 
cuz all to often sexual fantasies 
ofttimes filled every waking 
and sleeping hour of mine.

Condolences Forever Invoked 9 11 201

Condolences Forever Invoked - 9/11/2001

Many unsuspecting innocent lives
     unwittingly found themselves
     at ground zero
     with absolutely no time
     to bid loved ones adieu,
and thus with
     a metaphorically clangorous
     (aire splitting din – bedlam askew

n'er to be silenced),
     aye felt near ready, 
     viz no haw wing, 
     nor hem ming – waze
     farewell call to peace monger...
     and arm Matthew
nine one one when
clear out of the blue

a resounding handy
     dandy bell lose clue
asper, a fitting notion pain
     fully apropos to applaud motley crue 
i.e. strangers risk
     king life and limb,
     would definitely do,
no matter where persons

     stationed come thee
     ex-tolling bells morrow,
     (whence thee fateful
     seventeenth anniversary
     twill dolefully arrive -
somberly dawning for
     survivors and/or next of kin -
     less than twenty four

     hours from now),
     sans unforgettable tragedy
     indelibly etched will be recalled
     in a blinding 
     fiery stormy flashback,
    where significant lost lives will replay,
     when weaponized airplanes
     took a kamikaze nose dive

a dwindling cadre,
     qua first line of defense,
     emergency civilian and/or military
     trained personnel jumped
     into the blizzard decimated fray,
     whereat selfless persons
     scurried (helter skelter like)
     all abustle analogous

     to a outsize bee hive
where 24/7 news
     broad casters did air
(nee blast) round 
     the clock latest bulletins,
     could not escape incessant blare
ring frozen like a
     life size like sculpture

     seated in favorite easy chair
hypnotized by the sheer colossal
     utterly incomprehensible dare
devilish a state of emergency,
     the then president 
     (George Walker Bush) did declare
dumb founded, slack jawed,
     and wicked deed

     waiting for horror
     to be recanted as an err
roar overloaded sensory circuits
     exceeded threshold,
     nonetheless listeners and/or
     viewers forced themselves to hear
live coverage far more appalling
     than any night mare.

Ban Assault Weapons In 2017 - Part3

exclamation, which does nothing to stem dead locked high tide   
     proliferation of high-powered assault bazookas 
     manned by berserk cruel death eaters, 
     arch nemesis picks off life with a blip
simultaneously bipedal hominid(s) grip handily rounded dirk 
   as backup in case clip
misses mark, where siege mentality induces 
   nationwide sprinting into lockdown mode deterring by a drip
fiendish homicidal metamorphoses, where transmogrification 
of generic guy wielding weapon subjugating hostages pits malignancy fill lip
mailer daemon hell bent on besieging bait (unaware
Snapchatting linkedin flickr ring beings) burst deadly quip
   barrage of bullets malicious intent to spray 
   killing machines deliver click and rip
paying plenti deathly instagram howls amidst pandemonium, 
   thence funereal slip
epitaphs etched on tombstones proliferate taking souls to Hades trip.
Brutal and nasty nefarious scheme directed at humble lettered folks 
   (like those comprising my home town - 
   once evoked pastoral meme Lake Woebegone) 
   minding their p's and q's, when in extremis
out of the blue nightmare interrupts idyllic dream
a sudden bitta bing bitta bang rings terrorist catcall 
   followed by red tide and river of bloodied body where caskets
rendered veneer of dark wood within lies corpse, 
   pistol whipped, shredded and outkast, where mortician daubs creme.
Soundcloud boom echoes, thus occurs staccato sinister sonic strafes across
   freshly fielded tombstone; pearl jam gray slate, some formerly anonymous 
namesake, which underling, higgs bo son or daughter blitzkrieg cross 
   invisible trajectories shatter (at shutterfly speed), 
   democratic rubric rendered dross
   disposable lives of society with senseless slaughter, whereat somber silence 
   pines nostalgia for Mill on the Floss
when life seemed innocent against gun metal gloss 
wails of agony at another human loss.

Pond Heard Waldon Depth of Despair

No particular rhyme nor,
reason explains to boot
within mind of this (boyish
looking) ole coot,
why sudden flashback didst

kickstart metered metrical foot
when during bout with anorexia nervosa,
I did not give a hoot
analogously harried and swiftly kicked
with barebones styled tailored jackboot.

Said eating disorder, sans
self starvation arose
without explicit explanation
this grown man tries
till he gets himself bluenose

to recapitulate an ill fate,
he conveniently chose
still baffled, thus
without aversion disclose,
silence of echoes

confidential matter
I willingly expose,
said trauma that
nearly did foreclose
emotionally mortgaged corporeal property

boarded figurative 
windows, whereat up goes
for sale sign testament to
recalcitrant stalwart hardnose
father and mother felt

obligation to interpose
lest premature demise,
would invariably juxtapose
dealing mortal psychological
(albeit unfair) blow

to parents plus two sisterly kiddoses
perhaps family pets (cats and dogs),
whose meows and lows
punctuating equilibrium
volunteering, (when suicide

gripped stranglehold)
spurring personal tragedy
with sincere manifestoes
(mainly not a verse
to dabble with poetry)

striving to cater to nonheroes
to thwart tragedy, whose nose
(mine) sniffs fallout mainly upon me
woebegotten life somber
(time to cue oboes),

asper the plethora of
influences that predispose
one in the throes
of adolescent experiencing
oh ma dog...gushing hormones
analogous to young lives
loose then taut like mama's yoyos!
Form: Imagism

Indiscriminate Fate Doth Captcha All

Despite cosmetic surgery to stave
inevitable demise cheating grim reaper
indefatigable measures undertaken
buzzfeeding mortal legacy bajillion
dollar industry remaining eternally

youthful cold comfort knowing eventual
degradation conquers biological aging,
yet open casket bestows approving
nods upon aesthetic corpse denouncing
any telltale evidence rigor mortis stole

once hearty life source attested by
tranquil poise, albeit deathly stillness
former body electric forever quiet
among the mourning crowded house
impossible mission to still flowing tears

emotionally poignant moment onlookers
suddenly ever acutely aware their
demise guaranteed, an inalienable pact
linkedin with birthright, this scribe ponders
figuratively digging unearthing morbid

fascination with afterlife, yet neither
hastening mine demise, neither fearing,
protesting, nor ululating unproductive futile
entreaty against transient fleeting
consciousness, asper one carbon based

entity, who wonders if other creatures
great and small revile, (or perchance
question) authority, vis a vis temporarily
bequeathing forces procreative and
subsequently terminal, maybe other

species less insightful meditating being
gifted with sense and sensibility without
pride nor prejudice to speculate, deliberate,
articulate...regenerative processes that
eventually co opt breathing, functioning,

longing versus pensive postulating post
mortem phenomena, pinging noggin within
noggin of one weatherbeaten, haggard,
cadaverous *****sapien in truth...he
admits being petrified, what...whereat

lapsing millenniums found yours truly
cursed by Gorgons remaining forever
stone cold harboring no recollection
about livingsocial enjoying good n plenti

"FAKE" experiences trumpeting conspiracy
theories – fools like me (rush'n), where 
angels fear to tread including collusion 
explaining my ill fate.

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