My heart and mind don't align
I yearn for dreams to yield but vegetate
Putting off things for the very next day
My willpower is always at its lowest
Laziness floods my habits and goals
Until I drown in unsuccess.
The bed, so invitingly soft
It tempts me into a languid slumber
While a half-finished coffee mug
Sits cold on my window sill
My mobile phone, a dangerous distraction
As I scroll hours through social media when awake
Squandering my precious time away
My mind keeps dwelling on the past
Inundating memories of joy, sorrow and regrets
Serving no purpose
Then I slid into an eternity of pleasant thoughts
Of how to spend the next day of my life.
Always been creative in one form or another
It's definitely what turns my crank
Sometimes I wish I could turn it off but no dice
Been blessed with this very active mind
Which can actually be a real curse
At times I'd just like to kick back
Put my mind in neutral and let the world go by
I think they called it “vegetate”
However, that word is not part of my vocabulary
Those that don't suffer from this can't imagine
Why I would want a break from it
Well, to start, normal things like watching TV
Or watching a movie at the theatre never hold my interest
They are non productive hours
I know, you must be thinking, “Poor soul!”
Don't get me wrong, I enjoy being me
Although it sometimes can be overwhelming
Writing poetry is my current outlet
I have no idea what could possibly come next
Maybe I'll write a symphony, a la Mozart!
this may grab your goat
frantically fell from a boat
being in Shallotte
in Shallotte climbed an oak
branch that I know had been broke
slipping in some yolk
my wife was a wretch
turned out being quite a catch
lunch with fetch will fetch
what we would admit
all pieces of puzzle fit
crimes did commit
perfect pygmalion
in love with an alien
who was a Himalayan
what we did do on a whim
go ahead and torture them
eat some spaghetti
while in Serengeti
when he had been a carrier
we would need a barrier
we had been starting to see
a midget is what he may be
had become warm in my dorm
which was way above the norm
when a storm had begun to form
a conspiracy theory
which did become quite dreary
composing a query
we would vagrantly vegetate
what had gone on pitiful plate
Always been creative in one form or another
It's definitely what turns my crank
Sometimes I wish I could turn it off but no dice
Been blessed with this very active mind
Which can actually be a real curse
At times I'd just like to kick back
Put my mind in neutral and let the world go by
I think it's called “vegetate”
However that word is not part of my vocabulary
Those that don't suffer from this can't imagine
Why I would want a break from it
Well to start normal things like watching TV
Or watching a movie never holds my interest
They are non productive hours
I know you must be thinking “poor soul!”
Don't get me wrong I enjoy being me
Although it sometimes can be overwhelming
Writing poetry is my current ballet
I have no idea what could possibly be next
Maybe I'll write a symphony a la Mozart!
As Rumple in blankets,
I vegetate in unfilled torpor,
Blind enervation adrift among
Extinguished stars, among dark
Torpid galaxies where I am a stranger.
I find only dead planets, windswept and barren,
Where molecules of a distant living past
Are vaguely recalled,
And where conceptions,
Convictions all collapse.
Exhaustion is an avalanche
Making no distinction between
vacuity and repletness.
Sleep believes nothing,
Not even the animated chatter of
My dreams.
How many more businesses will need to go under?
How many more lives will they squash and plunder?
Should my way of life be put to the test?
How many should sacrifice so you can rest?
Why should my freedom suffer so you can feel safe?
You can stay home and vegetate.
Martial law, more government control?
We are digging ourselves a mighty large hole.
The entire planet now under siege?
I’m calling BS on the powers that be.
We are the people our numbers are high.
Our leaders are hanging us out to dry.
Rise up or fall, it’s now or never.
Blind obedience is never clever.
Our way of life is being changed.
Don’t let your future be prearranged.
It’s time to act and take a stand.
Our right to choose will soon be banned.
We need exposure to live and survive.
The longer we’re home the deeper we dive.
Before we go to bed we vegetate
No need for teacher but a compost heap.
And as we vegetate, we drift to sleep
While in our dreams our little mind debates
But mostly we’re unknowing in this dark
Where God himself may manifest at will.
His dazzling darkness makes our souls be still
And wait for strikes by living ,glowing spark.
But in the morning ,we come back to strife
Take up our work and suffer every stroke.
From sapling to the oldest,strongest oak
Each must choose again its proper life
Every look we cast at others strikes
Reflects and shows us what we have become
And when there is no movement, we are done
Our mind and heart have chosen what they like.
So in our end we vegetate again
And no more rise to labour in the day
We fertilise the fields passed on our way
We show the end of woman and of man.
A daily round becomes our life and death.
We live because we’re breathed by sacredness.
Before we go to bed we vegetate
No need for teacher but a compost heap.
And as we vegetate, we drift to sleep
While in our dreams our little mind debates
But mostly we’re unknowing in this dark
Where God himself may manifest at will.
His dazzling darkness makes our souls be still
And wait for strikes by living ,glowing spark.
But in the morning ,we come back to strife
Take up our work and suffer every stroke.
From sapling to the oldest,strongest oak
Each must choose again its proper life
Every look we cast at others strikes
Reflects and shows us what we have become
And when there is no movement, we are done
Our mind and heart have chosen what they like.
So in our end we vegetate again
And no more rise to labour in the day
We fertilise the fields passed on our way
We show the end of woman and of man.
A daily round becomes our life and death.
We live because we’re breathed by sacredness
I bought an interocitor and put it in my phone
Now I'm getting messages from galaxies unknown
Klaatu said Gort is broken down and waiting for some parts
From beyond the outer limits, not found on any charts
The Borg said they'll assimilate, 'tis futile to resist
The Thing said it would vegetate upon my groc'ry list
Teenagers from outer space we're in the Twilight Zone
The Blob said it could split in half to make itself a clone
The Robinsons still lost in space, forevermore to roam
Outer space invading soon, and ET phoning home
Arrakis said the planet Earth must meet the Guild's demands
Or Dune would send its giant worms to eat Saharan sands
For fear we'll be invaded and my body snatched away
And all the dreadful thoughts I've had, it's time for me to say
I've put my cosmic calls on hold because, for what it's worth,
I'm getting all the flack I need from good old planet Earth.
Placate By Not Being Late
My appearance was designed to placate,
Which is why I will not ever be late;
Strife's do bare,
With much care,
No one humiliate and do often vegetate.
Jim Horn
Sparring with demons, and dragons and deadheads
It bobs and weaves like a drunken sailor.
Omnipresent, omnipotent and omniscient
I'm quite attached to it - joined at the psyche.
Image of an incubus twirling as I do.
Patron Saint of agony, I curse it
And relegate it to a 2nd-class personage.
Out, damn spot, out - and take the blood with you.
When I am naked, it is clad (no projection),
No libido, no tumescence, no consummation.
How's that for a declension?
When it ascends, I float in the ether.
This hermaphrodite queen is superior
To all mono-sexual beings
And since I am bound and bounded
It supplies the rope, the pins and the Worchestshire Sauce
Third person singular with plural overtones.
No objection for this object of my affectation.
Alas, the narcissus cannot not spin like lilies,
But only vegetate with the legumes.
The coda, finale, epilog await
Looming like a sarcophagus awaiting its occupant
And alcohol cannot still the tooth
That nibbles at its soul.
What is it?
Must we mark a calender,
and tell ourselves,
Okay, this is the midway point,
we’ve reached the summit.
From this point forward,
we’re on a downhill slide,
where the river’s bend
is transparent, purple turns
to gray, and summers char
your insides to ashes?
Do winters now
begin to freeze bones,
crack them like icicles
falling on concrete?
I have passed
the midway point,
so where does this leave me?
Do I vegetate, or
keep sliding into zero?
Well, listen up, mark it down.
I refuse to accept defeat,
I will beat the odds.
I am my mother’s daughter.
Her indomitable spirit
permeates my genes.
Always been creative in one form or another
It's definitely what turns my crank
Sometimes I wish I could turn it off but no dice
Been blessed with this very creative mind
Which can actually be a real curse
At times I'd just like to kick back
Put my mind in neutral and let the world go by
I think the word I'm thinking of is "vegetate"
However, this word is not part of my vocabulary
Those that don't suffer from it can't imagine
Why I would want a break from it
Well, to begin, normal things like watching TV
Or watching a movie at the theatre not hold my interest
They are non productive hours
I know, you must be thinking, "poor soul!"
Don't get me wrong, I enjoy being me
Although at times it can be overwhelming
Writing poetry is my current outlet
I have no idea what could possibly come next
Maybe I'll write a symphony, a la Mozart!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Couch Potato
Crinkly wrinkly chips are easier on the dip
Regular ones are lighter on the tongue and lips
Remote control is always by my side
To surf the airways with due diligence
Football season is coming soon enough
To satisfy my fat and toothless self
My glowing baldness is a wonder to behold
Complimenting, blending in, with the cushy couch
Facilitating the couch potato life in hobo style
I was engineered to serve the proper docile life
I call the nasty wench to keep the brats away
And bring me guacamole and some beers
While I vegetate and play video games all day
On cozy pillows all about
The bathroom is too far away to crawl
So down the hall I roll and roll right back
Plant myself before the TV screen
Sink in to the comfy cozy couch again
Surrounded mostly by myself
And do the couch potato thing and stuff
I can never get enough
The dawning of Christmas eve .
I awoke this day – December 24th – all alone.
The dawning of Christmas eve – on my own.
The skies that greet my eye - shades of gray
this two thousand and two - Christmas eve day.
Slivers of – shards of orange peak through
the heavy gray blanket above, a time or two,
lighting up – in shades of rainbow –
that which should be – this day – snow.
It is not to be – it is just Jack Frost, you know,
sparkling like diamonds, reflections for me an you.
And so be it my friends, in B. C., it will have to do.
That a big che sara sara !!!
No ! ho, ho, ho, no!, ha, ha ha !!!
Father Sun, – hidden from view – has past his zenith.
Noon hour has come, has gone, passed away beneath
the clouded skies above, clouds that hid from view,
that westward walk, Sun, takes across our planet, blue.
All , has been kept from our sight, a need for me and you,
as I – in Mother Nature’s, embryonic fluid - lay,
within the porcelain walls of my beach and play,
surrounded by the heat of the Gulf stream,
contemplate, vegetate, meditate and dream
of those south sea, secluded islands
upon which I may not lay my hands.
B. J. “A” 2
December 24th 2002
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