Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
(alternately titled: Zayda born April 9th, 1929)

e'er since his birth,
     his daring do didst not abate
the penultimate most spectacular
     concrete incontestable product

     constituting biological offspring  
     developing, fashioning,
     and incubating gene nee us,
     he unwittingly didst create

encoded whence he got conceived
     approximately begat circa
     July nineteen twenty eight,
and hence upon April ninth

     two thousand and eighteen
     cometh denoting exceptional great
ness among kith and kin innate
awareness to take stock and celebrate,

how a series of fortunate events
     commencing with a date
to Harriet Kuritsky
     (at that time, yet to pledge her troth)

     accepting storied handsome fellow,
     whose constitution sturdy as "forest" timber    
     (definition of groom) to be lawfully wedded wife...
     until death do them part)

     unwittingly marriage didst emancipate
my mother, who met a awful, cruel
     and terminal undeserving fate,
which tortured demise, the grim reaper

     gladly, gleefully, and glibly
     held her steadfast
     thru death decreed grate
a permanent life sentence,
     she vehemently did hate

and fiercely fought tooth and nail
     (unimaginable to me,
     thee sole son), how
     agonizingly bitterly clearly irate

such suffering wrenched, wrought, wrung
August marriage permanently
     cleft by malicious, nefarious,
     and opprobrious tongue

no heroic measures,
     only lamentation slung
upon the livingsocial clinging,
     where grief rung

every last ounce,
     though thru each passing year
thy mum gone thirteen orbitz
     round the sun, that shear
ring raw emotion
     still persists in concert with lear
ring grimace of deathly hallows, 'ere

obstinate heart ache lessened now
since papa found bliss
     in which to steer the prow
of his four score and nine

     aged ship of state row
wing (or more or less peacefully drifting)
     berthed in consonant with vow
wills - a staunch spirit does wow!
less than twenty four hours after dashing off a poem
   explaining why i wanted to die
found me experiencing physical duress vis a vis,
   a bowel movement wherein waste unable to expel

   from the **** of this guy
which bout with ****** obstruction
   found me doubled over
   with lower abdominal distress

   whereby comfort found me unable to lie
down nor sit upright (with back padded with pillows
   against the cellar brick wall),
   thus severe bloating a bonus well nigh

and managed to muster the means to bare
   frigid arctic vortex aire to purchase
   the Acme brand Metamucil,
   which akin to drano doth ply
thru the excretory tract
   supposedly loosening the stools,

   which optimism (product
      didst earn claim to fame) generated a sigh
if that expressed intent
   to cease livingsocial would try

humph enjoining
   this lvii year old married male
   to cede victory
   to the grim reaper, who would vie

as winner de jure
   to this common fellow invoking libretto
   ohm resistant understudy waste not want not
allowing, enabling and providing relief,
   without successful defecation

   despite the oppressive urge to bolster this uriah
heap of balled up and tuckered i.e. pooped out
   five foot and ten inches of lovely bones
   thence mouthing retraction
   of former thought to cease existing,

though a non-bull lever
   in any power broker qua mankind
   relief at long last
   provided posterior answered prayer
   yet, this scrivener scrutinizes
   his recurring pain in the *** jagged torture
   and asks
   a rhetorical one word question "WHY"?
JDK Jul 2017
Gone away to jump through hoops set up by another collective mindsets' ideals.

The thing about a broken chain is in the missing links it attempts to steal.

So here we are all bound together in a gear motor with loose bearings,
and yet somewhere in the heated friction we find a new drive worth endearing.
Meta cogs and fallen gods can't save us from  bad steering.
Star BG May 2017
I dress thou with my writes and heart.  
In days when you feel low.  
I dress thou in the morning light,
so you begin to know.

To know your precious and so fine.
To know you  move with grace.
Just open your heart to feel
and dance in human race.

Dance with trust ascend oh yes,
dance in harmony.
When thou move in your power,
you will feel oh so free.

Free to move inside your dreams.
Free to feel divine.
Thou are special and deserve.
You walk in sacred rhyme.


StarBG © 2017
Inspired by Ken StJames
Leal Knowone Apr 2016
More BEAST than Man.
The things you cry demon too, they are thee

The beast understand me.
Summon forth the beauty you fear.
Thou who would not dare, explore the unknown terrane .
These are the plains were Thine feel free.
Thou cant see who is more awake than thee.
Everybody and nobody

observe calming river as thee wafts down stream of the violent sea you call reality.
I don't truly comprehend this Humanity, but the
operation in my mind I hide from thee, for Thou is part of this
manufacture reality.

Though humanity may not receive me, I walk
with poise around the decaying ancestors under our feet.
The dirt that was once flesh and bone.
They cry insanity when they pass over there understanding.
Insanity? or different directionality.
There is more than this mention.
I must mention it all will pass.
Even the peaceful little thoughts you have moon gazing laying on the grass.
What will become of thine reality?

I do not try to make sense of this jumbled world
This moment I enjoy the awakening.
I am but a tribal being soured by your ways.
Bearing witness the darkness in many things.The darkness in
many things lights the spring.

Life can leave a bitter taste, but as taste buds change I savor these days. Enjoy   the luxury of the days warm embrace.  
Solace found with what you call demons
I find solace with the scavengers.
thou canst not understand these things now
I am more awake than you can see
Floating down this never ending sea.
lying here with the dogs, hugging my earth,oh how the earth know I love thee.

Reality is not always logical  
We were meant to be, yet I must meet you on another plain
Make thine way home through the cold night fog.
Listen to the words from that what you do not speak too.

Know to savor your honey when its warm.
I would watch as the locust swarm all the lights of life into pitch
I know Thee may Never know the reasoning behind my actions now.
For I must be more beast than man
Scarlet Niamh Jan 2016
In the midst of my wakening,
what is this quintessence of ash
that haunts my soul?

What is sanity,
which quivers not need before your eyes,
whether you do not exist in reality,
only fiction in my assonance.

What wonder is the reasoning of man,
how simple in splendour. The clarity
of wakefulness which I perceive to be
sanity is only the same clarity with
which I dream or breathe, only the same
clarity which madmen believe to be reality.

If deception and error are my clarity
then nothing is my reality, for all lie
to protect themselves from the nightmare of old,
His power not enough to protect your mind
from the evil inside of your bones, the fire inside
of your soul. Which likens to the hellfire I find
in the dampening nights of relentless cries;
the corruption of your mind is clarity - a
clarity in your twisted reality.
~~ Insanity is the wonder of my reality. ~~
Amanda Nov 2015
Upon thine eyes i see thee
There be breath in thou lungs
Blood flows in thou veins
A beat from within thy chest
Hath thee waited under the great oak?
For thy hath waited under stars at night
Doth thee reach out?
Echoing calls of thy name in the wind
Thy tears yearn for thou warmth
But alas the cold air kisses thyself
The darkness awakens thy senses
For thy hath felt thee when lonely tears do shed

— The End —