we siphon the sky
with mouths closed
except for feeding
every element of the construct
is breakable
if I just had room to manoeuvre
but once the ground disappears
the steps outside become just a shape
I imagine every which way to fall
most endings lead to discomfort
I could start simple
invert the crank
take the food from your lips
scatter it for foraging
see if stars grow
in between the stones
all my simple starts
lead to complexity I can't control
but I can't sit here
just turning the wheel
Omniflage honchos disguise what they are.
An entourage won't arrive in electric cars.
The soul of our country is divided by scars.
Spun Mirage Verbiage from Decoupage stars.
Lumberhead puppets splinter society.
Knowing they subvert morality.
Playing truth or dare with frivolity.
Wholly exposing their dishonesty.
The leaders of free speech.
Alas, whose speech indeed.
When truth is viewed as crime.
In the Abyss of Lies.
A glamourous madame.
Prattled much Pablum.
Many feel she's plum out of charm.
Mirage Verbiage from these Decoupage Stars.
Sitting stoically
Two furry faces
Gaze upon faded photos.
Once cherished,
Hugged, wept over,
Drooled on
Forever friends
Now
Silent sentinels
Chewed ears
Button eye
Pablum stained
Guardians
Of a fading
Moment.
Six months from now and it's curtains for me
I'll crash through the barrier of 88
I'll officially be old and crotchety and senile
Pablum after my morning pee
Oh for the days had no trouble getting dressed
Now I forget my darn Jockeys
Don't wanna share this bod with anyone else
Everything's become kinda floppy
Once had tight abs... now who am I kidding
The tightest my abs get now
Is when I try bending down to tie up my laces
At times feel like a pregnant cow
I grunt and strain and been known to curse
Saying bad things like, “holy heck"
Can remember those real naughty old phrases
Like “go to blazes” or “pain in the neck”
Guess six months won't make a hugh difference
I'm pretty well ready for the pasture
One thing I've noticed since reaching “maturity”
Time seems to be going a lot faster
So here's some advice for all you young'uns
Enjoy life while you still can
Before you know it, the darn jig will be up
And you'll just be an also ran
I generally mean mine mien mental state
moost occasions heavily marinated stupor
long established as external trait
psychologically time tested trooper
impossible mission to kickstart sanity
doppelgänger regularly revisits his soul asylum
hellbent antimatter he cannot vitiate
despite therapeutic laxative merely exhausts
well bred literate smoking doobie brother
eliminating aforementioned pablum
witnessed courtesy one floundering grouper
among plenty of fish schooled
hyphenated (high finned haggled)
burn hushed scaled poem
courtesy one unionised rebellious party pooper.
Spellbound with colossal mental grippe
(i.e. all-consuming figurative cerebral
obsessive compulsive forced membership)
magnetic resonance imagine indicated jagged blip
and/or nsync microscopy
showed telltale genetic authorship
regarding above stated mental health crisis,
whereby Sigmund Freud analyst did flip
lid freeing leeches imported courtesy Philip
Hansel and Gretel a mere slip
o' lass whose nose she always did turnip.
The odor of spoiled milk
waged a scented battle
with a too full diaper.
His pablum drool
swung on a saliva string.
"Ain't he cute!!" I asked
"He's my baby brudder."
John G. Lawless
12/1/2020
in old school days
i used to eat
paste
that we were
supposed to
use for art
works such
as a stick
figured
snow man
who's hands
were made of
sticks but i
got stuck on
eating the stuff
but can't say it was
like purposely
putting
a tube of glue
in a paper bag
sniffing until
passing out
for in simply
taking a taste
while copying
Picasso
was
truly Proustian
for my mind
took not
by smell yet
was propelled
to a time
when i was ill
and Mum was
making oatmeal
taking a taste
spoon fed
takes
me back
to an earlier
time when i was
in a highchair
unaware if all
but being
fed pablum
by someone
so i suppose
this wasn't
a mind opening
experience of
remembrance
of things
past
Crunch
"I don't want to read something I already know
or which is going to slide down easily:
there has to be some crunch,
a certain amount of resilience."
Poet John Ashbery.
He wasn't the first one
to say it, but crunch
is spot on, as they say.
Life could be soft
and easily digestible, I guess – –
if that's your preference.
Actually, it might be mine, but I was blessed
when you get right down to it,
to have crunch enter in without my
asking or even foreknowing.
But it's one thing
to receive our days as crunch,
quite another to dish it out
to others.
I would rather not
go down as cream of wheat,
pablum to my peers.
And when I'm laid away for good,
there will be many a mastication--an
eternity of earth chewing away,
crushing the strongest box
or urn. Whether worms or beetles
or the heaving and moaning of
my loamy home--
May my final sound be
a cosmic crunch.
Phil Hefner.
Six months from now and it's curtains for me
I'll crash through the barrier of 80
I'll officially be old and crotchety and senile
Pablum after my morning pee
Oh for the days had no trouble getting dressed
Now I forget my darn Jockeys
Don't wanna share this bod with anyone else
Everything's become kinda floppy
Once had tight abs... now who am I kidding
The tightest my abs get now
Is when I try bending down to tie up my laces
At times feel like a pregnant cow
I grunt and strain and been known to curse
Saying bad things like, “holy heck"
Can remember those real naughty old phrases
Like “go to blazes” or “pain in the neck”
Guess six months won't make a hugh difference
I'm pretty well ready for the pasture
One thing I've noticed since reaching “maturity”
Time seems to be going a lot faster
So here's some advice for all you young'uns
Enjoy life while you still can
Before you know it, the darn jig will be up
And you'll just be an also ran
© Jack Ellison 2015
POLITICALLY RELIGIOUS PUNDITRY
and as the tide of mindless babble receded
whispering through the foaming bubbles,
giggling in the lather of their lies, smoothing
the unsuspecting edges of the irate populace
with the blandly pathetic pablum on which
they subsist, a rogue wave broke upon the
barren beach, tore the moorings of the past
from their entrenchments, cleansed the sands
of the needless detritus of failures filth, surged
through all the alleyways of wealth and power,
washing from their hands the stain of greed,
and in withdrawing left a stinging message -
repent - or I return.
John G. Lawless
9/30/2014
A poem old has verses wrapped in gold
As rhythmic beauty pours from every line;
A magic gift with music to behold.
Sophisticated language ripe and bold
Applied with master crafted strokes sublime;
A poem old has verses wrapped in gold.
A reservoir of riches there we mold
Inside a tapestry spread over time;
A magic gift with music to behold.
As summer heat turns into winter cold,
These songbird troubadours sing out their rhyme;
A poem old has verses wrapped in gold.
Perfection flows from words these poets told
In metronomic splendor like a chime;
A magic gift with music to behold.
The modern poet cannot lift their load
While writing pablum far removed from prime;
A poem old has verses wrapped in gold,
A magic gift with music to behold.
Perhaps on hind sight they may decide to add more time they may fix the presets
to make
them open they may even be more user friendly but they missed it for the first time around
how can you pretend to knoeledge when you hoard it when you keep it from the whole
crowd and dish it out with the silver spoon as pablum carping in a stream. Refusing to be
sane and safe you LORD it over otheres no Lord no power in your hand but the gang like
backing of the others of your kind insisting on rules that neither help or edify the group you
seem intent on making a world of non believers full of sin and queerness restricted in the
use of all equipment not needing more than querulous food fed inthevieniously overhead of
all the smarter ones never will agree this is exactly what it look likes this attempt at poetry is
a poor ensample of a poor example of a poor man attempting poetry. In other word the man
attempting to convey to the reader a poor understanding.
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