On the far edge of the world there are
fanatics of many minds and religions.
They have uninteresting histories,
jejune existences, and distorted ideas of nature.
Some are belligerent, felony-friendly foreigners.
I’ve never given them a single thought,
because they are nothing to me.
They’re insignificant—living curiosities
and I grant them no more sympathy
than I would a flock of wild birds.
Of course, I’d never wish to harm wild birds
unless they had the wherewithal to attack me,
in inimitable, Hitchcock style.
.
.
Songs for this:
Kashmir by by Toni Jevicky
Bring Me to Silence (Audiotree Live) by Fievel Is Glauque
.
.
felony-friendly = terrorist or crime adjacent
go to bed •think bemusingly of you
loop (cond) { tomorrow }
I rise in the morning,
jog an 8K •thinking of you, wash up
drink some flavored, black coffee
watch the morning sun balloon
eat toast while reading a set amount
write my unique and uninteresting analysis
work on half a dozen, odd assignments
walk .8 miles to campus •thinking of you
team up, with some older, uninteresting guys
interview a focus group, present dataset interpretations
walk .8 miles back to my flat •thinking of you
eat while reading a set amount
go to bed •think bemusingly of you
loop (cond) { tomorrow }
I rise in the morning…
.
.
Songs for this:
Falling Down a Wellby Jack J
Overtime (pt 1) by Mk.gee [E]
My daddy—he once told me
don’t ever play with nuns
they’ll hit you with their rulers
it won’t be any fun
I snuck out of that prison
and now I’m on the run
Once freed from that schoolhouse
I sunbathed in the sun
I stayed out late, I went on dates
looking out for number-one
When I think of what I went through
of all the tired repressive lies
I keep running wise, in slick disguise
my purpose is renewed
Don’t ever let ‘em tell you
you can’t have any fun
If they preach that hackneyed drivel
grab some things and run
.
.
Songs for this:
Cold Heart (PNAU Remix) by Elton John & Dua Lipa
I'm Still Standing by Elton John
Webster: hackneyed = uninteresting, unfun, dull and unoriginal.
*stolen almost directly, in spirit anyway, from that freewheeling rebel, Johnny Cash
**My first 8 years of school were parochial
New days pass me by,
What shall I do when happiness reaches to me
When I have forgotten all the pain I've endured
When the past seems so shallow and uninteresting
Shall I smile to it or frown upon it
Perhaps a quiet life where distance makes me whole
Perhaps a new beginning to make up for a new ending
It's too late now, the flowers bloomed too early
The storm came and took away all the colors
It's time to accept pain with joy and gratitude
Because when the sun shines again
It shall be a warning for the keepers
Those whose flowers will bloom
Those whose eternal beauty shall shine
Those whose future is still bright
Children who can barely keep their eyes open after lunch
Whose feet shuffle and drag, as they cluster into a bunch
Yawners who struggle to not lie down and flat out snore
When class is annoying, dull, uninteresting or just a total bore
rally at the end of the day with a hip hip hooray
Running swiftly away from the building with pep, perk and play!
Are you one who's adept at dream creation?
Or, do you play a role in the dream's formation?
Can you switch tracks at any given station?
When you dream, are you able to retell the theme?
I like dreaming and believe that they have real meaning*.
But the older I get, I recall less in dreams, it seems.
Some themes I can piece together, but only occasionally.
There's a great disconnect with noted inconsistency.
Can you create, delete, or dismiss your own content?
If deemed uninteresting, can you avoid certain events?
I don't let it bother me, because it beats having nightmares.
080522PSCtest, As I Dream Poetry Contest, Mystic Rose Rose
*Job 33:14,15
7/9/20
"Sickening"
This is sickening
And quickening
Not at all, what I was envisioning
Nobody listening
Most chickening
Fidgeting
And limiting
Themselves to the point of being crippling
The effects rippling
And tripling
On top of it, we've got social distancing
Still dribbling
I've been chiseling
And scribbling
No matter what has been incoming
Pivoting
And occasionally grimacing
The temperature freezing, cold, mild or sizzling
The weather icy, windy, calm, scorching or drizzling
Clowns continue giggling
Petty people are still belittling
Over every little thing
Not all that riveting
It's becoming uninteresting
Sometimes I sip, sometimes I swig
Sometimes I flip the script
Even though sometimes it's rigged
Before opportunities are shriveling
And dwindling
Got to get it quickly
And differently
Meanwhile all senses are tingling
I love only my kind.
But a world of just
your kind would to
monotony consign you.
I celebrate just my kind.
But a world that celebrates
only you, would to the utter
depths of boredom relegate you.
I prefer just my kind.
But the preference of your kind
would your curiosity wear out.
I only recognize my world.
But a world of only you
can never its horizon broaden.
I only relish my own race.
But a world devoid of
other races would be the
most uninteresting.
My race must the entire earth occupy.
But without the 'inferior' races,
how could you 'superiority' claim?
I have a lebensraum for my
race to occupy.
A lebensraum for only you
would geography obliterate.
So let your world be yours,
and let mine be mine.
Your culture and language you
may retain, whilst mine I also
retain,
as we both our diversity
celebrate.
Because diversity is nothing
more than the spice of life.
She wouldn’t stop slandering me the nasty little cow
Told girls I’ll use them then never be about
Just a single lad out for fun, a nasty little cow
She was single and uninteresting like a drought
Her love life was empty
Wasn’t even tempting
Slandered me plenty
and it started preventing
so I made out I fancied her
Did make much difference at first
But after awhile she started to purr
and eventually a kiss did occur
And what do you know she was right
I walked off and didn’t give a s****
She could not recall when her inner voice
began to narrate her life.
It noted every humdrum happenstance,
each ordinary advent,
as if there were indeed a story unfolding
toward a bold and literary purpose.
Until now the Teller had related her biography,
in a subdued commentary.
Now it openly opined
upon every uninteresting moment.
One day she caught the voice speaking
as a thing apart from her.
She blushed as if she had been discovered
speaking naked behind an invisible microphone.
The voice went on to say that her life
was a going to be an American Masterpiece.
She replied, smiling somewhat smugly,
"carry on."
Avid anteaters ate artichokes
Blossoming beyond barley’s beauty,
Classic chews can clearly
Deny delivering dangerous dangling dates
Evening eggplants enormous evolved ecstatic
Ferocious fig fritters furthering Frito’s finesse.
Galloping gingerbread giants gobbling goats gelatin,
Hurrying heavily handsome hindquarters
Imagining illustriously ignorant
Jealous juried jams
Killing king’s kiwi kingdoms.
Lazy llamas laughed lightly
Making monster muffins melt
Near Neville Nettle’s nearest nutty nerves.
Opulent Ostrich ostracizes olive oils,
Putting putrid previewing pastries past
Quality quizzing quails'
Ridiculously rancid roasts
Seriously swimming sideways since strawberries
Traveled toward tender turkey talk,
Undermining understudy’s uninteresting
Very vivacious vixen’s vigorously vain vixens
Who will work wonders when
‘xtra ‘xtravagant ‘xtrapolations
Yell, yowl, yippee yelping
Zeroing zealous zealots’ zesty zeal.
My Comfort Zone
(Is the Bottom of a Rut)
Written: by Tom Wright
January 2015
I have many friends for whom I truly care,
But few, I’ve allowed, into my intimate space;
It’s from this rut’s bottom, at life, I stare,
And most don’t enjoy this uninteresting place.
But with only the few which I’ve shared clock,
The few who’ve made my heart feel gladdened.
Who leave me feeling like the king of the rock,
Not used, un-loved, depressed, or saddened.
Jesus commanded us to “love thy neighbor as thyself”
But loving and tolerating are dissimilar.
Tom
My big old honking pointed toenail came through my sock today.
Making me uncomfortable in lots of uninteresting ways.
It is truthfully worrying me a great deal too,
The next thing I know there will be a big old honking hole in the tip of my shoe!
I am not sure how I accidentally stumbled upon the world of Steampunk,
But it is a combination of lace, leather, and metals, and a little bit funk.
It magically and freely fits people, cats, and dogs with machinery and gears.
Encourages unusual leather gloves, and holsters with no sense of fear.
There is a lot of beautiful dark brown copper piping included, and lots of mystique.
Inspired by the 1900’s, it is a whole new world, completely unique.
There are billowy white sleeves and leather adornments on both men and women
And leather belts with hooks, buckles, and gears, imagination freely given.
Whoever thought it up had imagination, a sense of fun, and talent galore.
Large round funk glasses with colored lenses look normal on top hats, which I so adore.
If you do not learn about anything else, on a dreary, cold or uninteresting day,
Look up steampunk styles, and steampunk conventions, it may make you want to join them and play.
Mr. Sol, our friend, our hero
our sustainer of life
We wake up to it's
cheery good morning greeting
Can't help smiling back
even when life isn't all tickety-boo
Heard the phrase
wait five minutes... it's true
The ups and downs at times
can be quite overwhelming
but it's all part of
life's exciting adventure
Would be pretty uninteresting
in fact quite mundane
if it was otherwise
However, those extraordinary
and exciting events certainly make up
for a few unpleasant occurrences
Of course losing a loved one
transcends all else
but even that which can seem
so devastating at the time
eventually though not forgotten
we are able to move on with living
thank goodness
Dear Mr. Sol will still
keep rolling round every day
till his lunar partner
big old Mr. Moon lights our way
A romantic image for lovers
the world over
So if it isn't obvious yet
this old duffer is an optimist
with an upbeat and happy
approach to life
Won't you join me?
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