Academicians …
masticating and
grinding their ‘truth’
Spewing out
what they would have us swallow
in gagging choking egotism
Regurgitating it back
in the toxic chunder
of a narcissistic reality
Papering the walls
of modern thought
with the bibs of their retching
As they hide within
their ivory towers
—festering in mass
(St. David’s Pennsylvania: September, 2023)
Too fragile stems hold heliotrope heads
Taffeta flaunted purple pompoms preposterous
Let us lie on the grass, smoke cigarettes
Aft petal papering conjure new year's purpose
Behold from below the branches spread
Frilly dusk shock puffs, dancing shuffle clusters
Obscure wombs become Wilde, paraded
Lying Spring in Winter cherry bloom discovered
Crushed plums, ostrich plumage cabaret
Bud watching binoculars magnify trivial matters
Syrup decay drips paint over Dorian Gray
Individuals strive beside their neighbours' status
Berating stoney belief in banal morality
Seven deadly virtues bruise a perfect husband
Ademant magenta silken siren Cheveley
Upsets good sense in serpent gaudy diamonds
9th June 2022
Written for Contest:
Purple Flowers
Sponsor:
Nayda Ivette Negron Flores
...that...
news is about
freedom does matter...
...means...
ultimate freedom goes...
unchecked within theoretical...
...boundaries...
marked as grounds for exploration...
beyond media-public view for profit beyond...
...awareness...
of public conscience that only the richest may finance...
such as a re-arrangement of so-and-so combats-in-nations to...
...re-sew...
what be a general public space-time reality fabric papering all three walls
and seen as a survival of the fittest existence reflecting itself in a media norm...
stans sand
Fell asleep, drooled ink on my pillowsheet.
Would this wise and wondrous dream be complete
by moonlight or dawn?
Fright! Look at my lawn!
O joy — my muse launched out all toilet sheets.
What a pandemic nightmare, verses span
from house to house, a neighborly can-can.
Should be holiday lights,
verbage that’s out of sight,
a spread of snow — not a Poe-sy afghan.
Hiding the evidence, wiping my hand,
but ink is witty and gritty like sand.
I find I can’t erase
what’s written on my face.
Second best, I smile as if it was planned.
Neighbors are horrified — shielding their kids,
holding them close, shushing, closing their lids.
But little monsters join in,
papering words for a win.
Poets will be poets, kids will be kids.
11/25/2020
Will cute, costumed kids come for candy?
In case, I’ll have loads of sweets handy.
Wee ones might stay home;
still, big ones will roam
T-P-ing* yards. Clean-up's NOT dandy!
*Toilet papering (also called TP-ing), is the act of covering an object, such
as a tree, house, another structure, a yard, etc., with toilet paper. Another
term for this is “yard-rolling.”
syllable count 9 9 5 5 9 used howmanysyllables.com
October 9, 2020
Poetry Contest Title: Halloween Inspired Limerick
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
Leaves let go gracefully
When the season comes to an end
Papering the ground, a carpet of colours
crisp at first and then subdued and soggy
Squished to the ground by clumsy feet
Stomping, squelching, trying to stop slipping.
Such is the switch of seasons
And the flipside of life
What starts out bright and full of promise
Can swiftly turn to sadness,
squelched to the ground by clumsy feet.
To let go gracefully isn’t easy; why can’t I learn that from the leaves?
But I guess slipping into sadness, yet somehow struggling back up to see the next season
Is in itself a sign of strength.
When journalism fails to deliver the facts,
And no longer apologies for shameful acts,
Constantly ending up on the wrong tracks,
Failing to prevent shark attracts,
On those who suffer from panic attacks,
More interested in becoming political hacks,
Papering over the cracks,
And roasting words on racks,
All to fill the owners money sacks,
Is it not time we turned our backs,
And return to our shacks,
To give our children what journalism lacks.
Our game show host,
in negative,
teeth bleaching.
papering the cracks,
with good lighting,
and bad jokes,
We
never
see
you
coming.
Fluffed before countdown
but you never came,
your climax is waiting,
any minute now
there is no edit.
His pitch is perfect.
The liquidity of his voice stronger
than the gushing water,
pressure forcing itself
through the copper pipes,
vibrating like a ball bearing.
A devotional hymn covering the courtyard with steam,
wall papering the darkness with a flowery melody.
How beautiful the water falls,
pitter-patter on the marble,
it gives rhythm to the showering man's song.
Now occupants of silhouetted trees chime in,
an unrelated orchestration
of effort to worship this morning.
Today slowly unfolds
with an overture of lyrics and dawn.
I finish my cigarette and join in with a song of my own making.
It's going to be a beautiful day.
I’ll bet you think you were unseen….
Invisible like a ghost.
Well, guess what?
You’re not as sneaky as you are stupid.
Were you really that mad about
Being beaten to a parking place?
A place she politely waited for and rightfully earned.
And, she had two little babies with her…
While YOU, a big strong guy, were by yourself.
I guess I could tell the whole world your name…
But, that won’t be necessary.
Don’t worry…
I won’t call the police.
Those who know will keep the secret well.
And,,,You’ll NEVER need to worry about them.
They would never hurt you personally, that is.
They wouldn’t key YOUR car,
Put sugar in your gas tank,
Knock on your door at 3 AM
After toilet papering your house.
They won’t scatter Pramitol over your lawn and shrubs.
I made them promise not to hurt you in any way.
So, you’re safe,,, for now.
But, next time… Remember…
I know who you are!
And, you don’t want to know me….
Her eyes complicated simplicity
dripping under the weight of sour deceit,
melding to the warm wet circles
tainting the already tired bar.
She was soaking up the animosity,
those precious pieces
tunneled beneath the mainstream
of dancing whims and limbs.
From this corner of maybes
I saw a slice of moon between your teeth,
refracting promises, turning aside possibilities.
I was caught; stranded in her thousand yard stare,
my fantasies twisted into form,
tracing circles over her soul.
My ambit swallowed in empty vows
and monochromatic stains smearing bravado.
There were no cotton candy comforts,
no petals of innocence
lurking beneath her electric laughter.
Just frosted intentions, shielding her
from the wet side of clouds
and papering over her shattered whole.
I took my oversized insomnia
into the rusted remnants of today,
left those spirals of copulating smoke
and closed the door on her derision.
The circle
equations of linguistics
lyrical misfits
misinformed lyricists
papering plastifying
blasted through
pronuciation of tempation
fundamental precipitation
recollection
mass integral concentration
reaching the world within
through inoprim
the land of the singer
Pentium meaning
believing in the constellation
major frustration
astral projection
oh let me go to my audition
thank you very much for listening
Written tonuhalan/5/4/06/wed
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