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SELFISH EDUCATION MINUS POETICAL WISDOM
MAKES THE WORLD LAME

Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; [email protected])

Nothing is wrong with selfish education;
Career is an important part of a good life
Much of human life over the years
Is devoted to career acquisition
In oblivion of poetical wisdom
Philosophy does not make it any easier,ok
For apothecaries to remove a prostate gland;
Apothecarical education is long, arduous and dear in cost
Never temper it with apparent irrelevance
But poetical wisdom soothes the tools
Helps apothecaries to volite in dilemma
Poetical wisdom is essential for apothecary’s work
Without it; apothecary tells a mother-to-be
Your baby will be a dwarf dwarfishly
The apothecary explains the mother’s options yet in fault
Since it takes more than just knowledge of genetics
Since it requires an understanding of suffering,
Of disappointment and puerperal attachment
Apothecary tell a daughter but in sham; that
Your mother’s life support needs to be removed
It takes more than just knowledge of physiology
It too requires an understanding of emotional loss
A casualty room apothecary goofs to avoid despair
When faced with a baby battered nearly to death
By its own zinjathropus father
Such horror requires a faith in humanity
That cannot be learned in the selfish education
It’s not just apothecaries absolute
To benefit from a broader learning
It is but entire humanity
Studying drama would no help financiers
Devise capricious financial parasites
That doomed the world into financial mire
But, if they were familiar with Faust,
They may have thought twice about
The consequences of their vice,
Being able to sing from Shelley’s poems
Will not help politicians get elected
Carousing Ozymandias might make them more humble
And thoughtful about their accomplishments
Rupert Murdoch might not now be shaking his head
And whining; how I wish I new
Instead, he were to echo Shakespeare’s words
About how easy it is to be; done to death by a slanderous tongue,
I sing this poem in a crouch in the twilight
Around the world as my audience
Behold poetic eyebrows of my comrades,

A generation of humanity familiar poetical kingdoms
Of history, philosophy and literature is a wonderful vision
Doubts not that reading Goethe
And Shelley and Shakespeare guarantees wisdom
You are correct, kudos to you,

Reading, by itself, won’t make anyone a sage
Experience is a pertinent Florence
As Odysseus learns on his journey back to Ithaca,
Important lessons can only be learned the hard way
Through bitter experience, perhaps has a change,

Youth start out with ***, drugs, rock and roll
With experience they eventually emotions decadence
In calm appreciation that; nothing to excess,

Tragic exceptions like poor Amy Wine house;
Only serve to prove the rule, there is a problem,

Ergo, Experience alone cannot guarantee wisdom
Any more than reading books can
The lessons of life are only available
To those who are ready to learn them
If wisdom is the goal, then humanity must walk 10,000 miles,
To read 10,000 books
Said 17th century Chinese philosopher, GU Yanwu
Becoming wise requires more than set of adventures
But a cultured mind that is open and liberal
Readily able to absorb the lessons that experience teaches
Pasteur famously said that; Chance favours the prepared mind
Our job as learning humanity is to take his words seriously
Prepare mankind to learn from experience,

Humanity is to go beyond selfish education
To learn colours of hope in the poetical wisdom;
Life, death, tragedy, love, beauty, courage, loyalty
All of these are omitted from selfish education
yet, when it comes time to sum up our lives,
They are the only things that ever go places,

Catholic priesthood ever admonishes the flocks;
Thou art dust, and to dust thou shalt return
A salutary reminder of what we all have in waiting f
Like the Preacher in the Ecclesiastes;
We spend our years trying to find some meaning in our lives
It is easy to fall into the bottomless pit
Life is tale told by an idiot full of sound and fury signifying nothing
But before humanity reaches Macbeth’s conclusion,
We must provide with the poetical glory
Musing fortunately as all humanities is anxious
There is a thirsty for poetical wisdom
Which parochial selfish education cannot quench,

There ought to be a list of great poetical works
From east, west, north and south of the world
Globalectically Nursing poetic urge of the earth
With which every piece of humanity should suckle
In wisdom that Books have the power to convey wisdom,

From these poetical sources that humanity learn about love
And loss, about memory and desire,
About loyalty and duty,
About our world and love-bound universe
And about what it means to be a human being
You whom I could not save
Listen to me.
Try to understand this simple speech as I would be ashamed of another.
I swear, there is in me no wizardry of words.
I speak to you with silence like a cloud or a tree.

What strengthened me, for you was lethal.
You mixed up farewell to an epoch with the beginning of a new one,
Inspiration of hatred with lyrical beauty,
Blind force with accomplished shape.

Here is the valley of shallow Polish rivers. And an immense bridge
Going into white fog. Here is a broken city,
And the wind throws the screams of gulls on your grave
When I am talking with you.

What is poetry which does not save
Nations or people?
A connivance with official lies,
A song of drunkards whose throats will be cut in a moment,
Readings for sophomore girls.
That I wanted good poetry without knowing it,
That I discovered, late, its salutary aim,
In this and only this I find salvation.

They used to pour millet on graves or poppy seeds
To feed the dead who would come disguised as birds.
I put this book here for you, who once lived
So that you should visit us no more.
Alizay Jul 2019
Admirable, Blissful, Bewildered, Curious, Capable, Compassionate, Determined, Daring, Delighted, Dazzling, Eagar, Edgy, Enlightening Enthusiastic, Elegant, Fabulous, Fantastic, Forgiving, Fictitious, Fancy, Feminist, Glamourous, Gorgeous, Glowing, Guarded, Greatful, Generous, Gloomy, Happy, Honest, Hopeful, Humourous, Humble, Humane, Heartiest, Heavenly, Imaginative, Interesting, Inspiring, Intellegent, Incredible, Impressive, Important, Indecisive, Invisible, Jinxed, Joyous, Judicious, Justified, Jobless, Jiggish, Jimp, Jittery, Jazzy, Jaunty, Kindhearted, Keen, Knowledgable, Kiddish, Knavish, Knockout, Kempt, Kween, Kin, Kittens, Kinder, Lazy, Luxurious, Lively, Loyal, Limit, Laminated, Lawless, Lightning, Lushious, Luminous, Lovesick, Logical, Modest, Marvelous, Motivated, Music, Momentous, Mindful, Magical, Memories, Merciful, Mellow, Mesmerizing, Malicious, Mannered, Noble, Nervous, Night, Naive, Noted, Natural, Nifty, Nurturing, Never-ending, Noteworthy, Neglected, Narnia, Native, Number 1, ***, Openhearted, O Canada, Obviously, Obidient, Obsessions, Open-minded, Oriented, O.K., Observing, OUT-OF-THIS-WORLD, Omnicient, Outshining, Obliged, Obsticles, Passionate, Personally, Poetry, Picture-Perfect, Positivity, Pulse, Painful, Physic, Power, Protagnist, People-Person, Pros, and Cons, Purity, Purpose, Pleasant, Pieces, Quiet, Quality, Quick, Quoted, Queen, Quirky, Quintessentially, Quest, Quick-Minded, Questionable, Quarter, Quiver, Quiddity, Quiescent, Qui vive, Quip, Quantity, Ravishing, Rapport, Reliving, Reassuring, Rebal, Rainbows, Reckless, Relaxing, Respect, Remedy, Regrets, Right, Relatable, Reliable, Rad, Ready, Responsible, Rainy days, Sagacious, Salutary, Sassy, Secure, Self-assured, Self-reliant, Self-confident, Self-disciplined, Selfless, Sensational, Sensitive, Stars, Shawn Mendes, Sénorita, Sentimental, Set, Serene, Seamless, Significant, Sightly, Trustworthy, Talented, Tender-hearted, Thriving, Thankful, Titanic, Touché, Touchy, Transparent, True, True-blue, Traveller, Transpicuous, Titillating, Timeless,Tidy, Teasing, Tender, Terrific, Thorough, Thrilling, Unarguable, Ultimate, Undefining, Under-the-weather, Unalloyed, Unassuming, Uncommon, Understandable, Undivided, Unique, Unlimited, Unstoppable, Uplifting, Upbeat, Uber, Unconvensional, Uhuh, Unbelieveable, Under control, Unquestionable, Utter amazment, Valiant, Valuable, Valid, Veridical, Valiant, Vibrant, Vigorous, Vigilant, Victorious, Visions, Vivid, Voluptuous, Vulnerary, Vulnerable, Venust, Veracious, Vestal, Violen, Vroom Vroom, Victory, Vows, Wake me up, Wise, Welsome, Well-behaved, Welcoming, Well-grounded, Woke, Whimsical, Whistler, Wholesome, Wired, Witty, Wondrous, Whilst, Winter, Wonderful, Wide-Awake, Walk it like I take it, ****-bang, Wishful, Wellness, Worth it, World-Class, Xo, Yolo, Zero
Any feedback? go for it
Doug Collins Dec 2011
We were two introverts
surrounded by an infestation
of the dipsomania and delight.
Ingested by white noise,
flashing lights
and sin,
we stood sheltered behind conservatism
and our cocktails.
This technophonic cave
was crammed with lascivious men
modeling their lavish kicks and threads
in pursuit of non-commitment.
With our backs pressed firmly
against our salutary wall,
we felt inviolable.

But then, you turned to me.

Your chandelier earrings exploded
the luminescence and trepidation
into a million particles,
and through the deafening roar
of pandemonium and decadence,
you offered a wink and said,
“Let’s dance.”
st64 Dec 2013
..



You whom I could not save

Listen to me.  

Try to understand this simple speech as I would be ashamed of another.  

I swear, there is in me no wizardry of words.  

I speak to you with silence like a cloud or a tree.


What strengthened me, for you was lethal.  

You mixed up farewell to an epoch with the beginning of a new one,  

Inspiration of hatred with lyrical beauty;  

Blind force with accomplished shape.


Here is a valley of shallow Polish rivers. And an immense bridge  

Going into white fog. Here is a broken city;  

And the wind throws the screams of gulls on your grave  

When I am talking with you.


What is poetry which does not save  

Nations or people?  

A connivance with official lies,  

A song of drunkards whose throats will be cut in a moment,  

Readings for sophomore girls.

That I wanted good poetry without knowing it,  

That I discovered, late, its salutary aim,  

In this and only this I find salvation.


They used to pour millet on graves or poppy seeds  

To feed the dead who would come disguised as birds.  

I put this book here for you, who once lived  

So that you should visit us no more.  




                                                                                         Warsaw, 1945

                                                                                        
- by Czeslaw Milosz






st, 13 dec 13
Czeslaw Milosz, "Dedication" from The Collected Poems: 1931-1987.
Copyright © 1988 by Czeslaw Milosz Royalties, Inc.
Used by permission of HarperCollins Publishers.

Source: The Collected Poems: 1931-1987 (The Ecco Press, 1988)


BIOGRAPHY:
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/czeslaw-milosz?utm_medium=email&utm;_campaign=Daily+Poem+of+the+Day&utm;_content=Daily+Poem+of+the+Day+CID_40e77fec0b32160b20d7ec324dce37ed&utm;_source=Campaign+Monitor&utm;_term=Biography
It is not to be thought of that the flood
  Of British freedom, which, to the open sea
  Of the world’s praise, from dark antiquity
Hath flow’d, ‘with pomp of waters, unwithstood,’
Roused though it be full often to a mood
  Which spurns the check of salutary bands,—
  That this most famous stream in bogs and sands
Should perish; and to evil and to good
Be lost for ever. In our halls is hung
  Armoury of the invincible Knights of old:
We must be free or die, who speak the tongue
  That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold
Which Milton held.—In everything we are sprung
  Of Earth’s first blood, have titles manifold.
I looked for that which is not, nor can be,
  And hope deferred made my heart sick in truth
  But years must pass before a hope of youth
    Is resigned utterly.

I watched and waited with a steadfast will:
  And though the object seemed to flee away
  That I so longed for, ever day by day
    I watched and waited still.

Sometimes I said: This thing shall be no more;
  My expectation wearies and shall cease;
  I will resign it now and be at peace:
    Yet never gave it o'er.

Sometimes I said: It is an empty name
  I long for; to a name why should I give
  The peace of all the days I have to live?--
    Yet gave it all the same.

Alas, thou foolish one! alike unfit
  For healthy joy and salutary pain:
  Thou knowest the chase useless, and again
    Turnest to follow it.
It is not to be thought of that the Flood
Of British freedom, which, to the open sea
Of the world’s praise, from dark antiquity
Hath flowed, “with pomp of waters, unwithstood,”
Roused though it be full often to a mood
Which spurns the check of salutary bands,
That this most famous Stream in bogs and sands
Should perish; and to evil and to good
Be lost for ever. In our halls is hung
Armoury of the invincible Knights of old:
We must be free or die, who speak the tongue
That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold
Which Milton held.—In every thing we are sprung
Of Earth’s first blood, have titles manifold.
Take the dead Christ to my chamber,
The Christ I brought from Rome;
Over all the tossing ocean,
He has reached his western home;
Bear him as in procession,
And lay him solemnly
Where, through weary night and morning,
He shall bear me company.

The name I bear is other
Than that I bore by birth,
And I've given life to children
Who'll grow and dwell on earth;
But the time comes swiftly towards me
(Nor do I bid it stay),
When the dead Christ will be more to me
Than all I hold to-day.

Lay the dead Christ beside me,
Oh, press him on my heart,
I would hold him long and painfully
Till the weary tears should start;
Till the divine contagion
Heal me of self and sin,
And the cold weight press wholly down
The pulse that chokes within.

Reproof and frost, they fret me,
Towards the free, the sunny lands,
From the chaos of existence
I stretch these feeble hands;
And, penitential, kneeling,
Pray God would not be wroth,
Who gave not the strength of feeling,
And strength of labor both.

Thou'rt but a wooden carving,
Defaced of worms, and old;
Yet more to me thou couldst not be
Wert thou all wrapt in gold,
Like the gem-bedizened baby
Which, at the Twelth-day noon,
They show from the Ara Coeli's steps,
To a merry dancing tune.

I ask of thee no wonders,
No changing white or red;
I dream not thou art living,
I love and prize thee dead.
That salutary deadness
I seek, through want and pain,
From which God's own high power can bid
Our virtue rise again.
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Tick

In the tyranny of the measuring clock
Death is but a tortoise in this timeless race
With every slow tick and echoing tock
Forever keeping its careless pace

With so much to do I stay awake
With one foot in front of the other
Running with knees and feet that ache
Time feeds worms a salutary supper

In the end we must lie and nap
Embrace eternal slumbers deadlock
We are just hares caught in times trap
In the tyranny of the measuring clock

Tock
Joel Martinez Feb 2014
You sometimes make me feel like a megalomaniac. Is that bad?
Are these feelings that I'm feeling what's expected to be had?
You infringe my mind in such circuitous ferment.
It's a proclivity, these thoughts
Yet such propensity is irrevocable.
An inscrutable contraband reverberating in a sedulous manner grasping tender hands.
Perhaps it's not transient, but equitable.
Not scathing, but salutary.
Well there's only one way to ascertain.
That is simply to acculturate.
Elliot A Jan 2014
We come together in this swirling mass
You participate in an endless flow of energy, from one movement to the next
You kiss, feel, touch, love, care, hug
You believe, think, have faith, gesture
You hate, renounce, decry, hurt, break
Played out on a stage, a life led as so many millions before
Things you will never know are never known
The knowledge you do know cherished
The love you felt and feel embellished across a chest
What note will you have left?
A salutary glance, paragraph or a punctuation mark?
You are sustained by all that ever passed before
Those scraping bodies across floors to those elevated in thought
From slaves and ******
To intellects and emperors
Each a fully breathing entitled human being
No more, no less
No more, no less
A mother, a father, a sister, a brother
Related are all, blood tied and adored
Taken away in time, eroded into the winds and forgotten for ever more
Let the stars glare upon this blue orb
Reflecting the dreams of those inhabiting it
To never be known, secrets drowned in space
What say you to heavenly bodies on deepest, darkest nights?
Utterances trembling from unsure lips
I love
I hope
Humanity built on feeling. For we must feel our way.
We must feel our way.
Peter Roads Dec 2015
What is this?
What arrogance
to be dissatisfied with bliss
What am I?
That I find myself like a Danish price
contemplating molecular physics
If there could be but one thing through which I could reach
from the tips of my toes to the ends of my ariels
let it speak to me now or remain forever ephemeral
Tempt me not with silence nor sentient reflection
let me sit idle
while a host of doubts with carousing inflections
rend peace from the oath used to praise your perfection
the redoubt of certainty a false satisfaction
but I will seek it no less, lest my own moral code
on the floor lie here prone

Be still

Who are you to challenge me?
My own self?
HA! You are nothing
less than a vaporous belch,
repudiation of the shelf
from which this retched book of life was wrenched
No the end for you can come not too soon
unless it be for that which you are
A cankerous man ***** feeding on the life that was not given
but taken from others AND from yourself
I know not you

Unless I do

Unless I do

For all that was, is and was, was mirage
Smoke to the mirrors, dust in the sunshine
caught by the exhaled breath of nothingness
Cancer in the heart or lung make no difference to the boatman

BEGONE

Waste not my time with salutations
nor grave maunderings on that which could have been
nor with pleasantries and optimism
I have no use for these baubles of ego

BEGONE I SAID

What would you be without meat to shrine that temple of mind?
A magician?
A sorcerer?
Some glorified seamstress of witty offal
set to ram fill mouths of the bantering rabble
NO! I shall not cowtow to the nicetities of your excess, nor of mine
Our colours are grey NOT black and white
we shall drown beneath stone until resurrection day
and even then we shall rot in our graves for there IS NO GOAD
not to man, beast or rock NO GOAD that science shall not uncover, no lack
that in wondrous doubt we shall **** to deny the self-evident fact
that we are nothing and everything combined in one shell
decomposing rapidly, a death knell for the self
is the salutary cry for the immobile stone laid on my brow
for the rustling tree
for the wild fox and the mutated accessories to our loneliness
they shall be freed and they shall feast upon our corpses
and not a day too soon
and not a day too soon
so sayeth the bard from his everlasting gloom.
Johnny Noiπ Aug 2018
[one from each state];
standing up to be the
next intellectual giant [of our era alone]
of this year of our lord;
coming on smiling & never
                                 ending; [her spoken language held sacred]
she is the salutary sovereign]
over even the kings of Egypt]
& Arabia;      [her life   is a carnival of
worldwide scope; she is followed in
by the nation's most beautiful women]
for this year alone; & next year there
[will be 50 more & so on to tinfoil infinity       or
  until bathing suits are brought back;
           she is an
angel dropping from the sky like rain          &
bouncing like Mexican beauties
scrambling to be the next Miss Universe,
or at least                        Miss **** Back -
Geno Cattouse Sep 2014
Neanderthal grunts,scratches and stands
Shades his eyes in salutary pose.
New daylight on the horizon.The fisherman sits on sand mending nets to cast into rippling sun kissed tide.
The man in valley gathers This flock in shade of green shade sunkist hills where rolling blankets sweet grass abounds.

Ancient Orient glimmers like  polished stone.Stands watch across vast open plains momentum grows while the blazing orb labours to climb to do it's work.

Battle lines drawn as thousands stand fixed in gleaming light. Swords of bronze and chariots poised to beckon perdition. The rising sun as witness.

High above the stricken crowd stands the priest in wondrous plumage a crimson river runs down the stone. He sands alone a dagger in his right hand the still beating heart in left.
The Sun god requires.

The ground spins silently below us. The sky rolls by in concert.
The golden god he whispers to all, arises swiftly and then he falls to sleep.

Dictates our every breath..morsel that man eats.
Bow.
Worshipping none.
you are slow like daggers or
        cancer.

this is what it feels like to travel
on a discourse:

something about you metastasizes
in my mind whenever the silences
are no longer beautiful;

and just like that, I thumb a prayer
to the fallen obsidian,
this harbinger of marvelous calm.

sometimes all the rooms are white
and I am immersed deep into pallor –
when both our eyes do not meet,
I wring out a cockeyed miracle:

dragging the blood of the trees with me,
these bushy polyps,
   these benign volcanoes skin,
ashen and dull like a heart – these agonized
appurtenances, I gleam like light
   cut from the mirror and fade out
as my visibilities hide.

something in me smiles when you
are flattened out – cross-legged, interconnected
  unloose a star fettered somewhere deep where
hands cannot reach for the inside of a tomb.
  
  this suchness that when I feel your sensations
press their threats against my skin,
      you are a salutary squelch
in this pure-iron condition, or a heavy-earth machinery
   moving inside my marrow, that deep

  into death like a morning waist-high
with tears, walled in by requiems.
(alternately titled: perp hosting everclear discord)

jump'n jack flash ("hot for teacher")  
     halen from three doors down
     tells me "go ask alice"
in chains about jane's addiction,

     which haint no green day natural bliss,
but super ***** ping
     cheap trick tripped up mendacity,
     where motley crue crew

     doth abba sol lute lee
     get feted among stone temple pilots,
     overhead foo fighting, droning, buzzing
     b52's chauffeuring  prince, Queen Bee Latifah  
     (and their entourage), thru aerospace - criss

crossing the boulevard of broken dreams -    
     rem mem bring diss
dishabille jester, who points a goldfinger,
     and also nods a golden earring,

while keeping arms akimbo
holed at this crowded house,
     in Orlando spurs dawn
     ting idea to tie a yellow ribbon round

     the ole oak tree (with a pink bow
tie), while devo
shin hull lee gesture ring feigned emo
shun null rescue toward brother matthew scott

     (turf riff hick guy), he monitors fo'
the opening royal wedding,
     as feted groomed consanguinity linkedin    
to mother Mary (i.e. thee Judeo -

     Christian bartered bride)
     all a day glow
majestically evoking, an electric light orchestra
     showering hall and oates domain ***

varying kaleidoscope,
     sans manifold dramatically,
     viz scintillating from indigo
girls deep purple raiment (strobe light effect)

     court of king crimson entrancing guests
     with somber non joe
king poise zen awaiting know
wing lee on cue to issue marching orders,

     whence proclaimers salutary formidable low
worrying church fathers regarding im mo'
mod dissed flagrantly loosening mandate re: no
     longer requiring chasuble couture accouterment

imposing a breach pro
pushy hating king crash test dummies
     pleasing secular status quo
bull heavers delivers crisis within liturgical credo
     cleaving via row

ting stinging viz liturgical heart felt
     iron maiden motorhead engine
     aired 21 gun salute amidst
     rose soundgarden mutiny    

qua parochialism creates woe
begotten lachrymose kinks
     on black sabbath sowing yo
yo wing confusion as cream colored police chief
     Hieronymus Bosh heads to ground zero.
I imagine        you naked
I imagine        you dead in faint recall
I imagine        your hands the gun metal
I imagine        your teeth the fence guarding flesh
I imagine        your perfume, your mother’s wake
I imagine        your strut a dance to J. Alfred Prufrock

I imagine       you singing from each to each
he puts    it like that,   and you have become overwhelmed
      by passivity
             as   in    a salutary
as capitulation
                      as the Earth surrendering to rain.

I imagine        you clothed
I imagine        you alive in the demise of day
I imagine        your hands studded to the hilt with lacquered sorrow
I imagine       your teeth gnawing my skin to suture
I imagine         your tears, the sea in front of your mother’s grave
I imagine        you
          ******* in the silver  head of morning
out for no nursery of accolade.
i am trying to sound my way
into a great mishap.
wing me the streets of all and i shall
give back their names to their fathers.

taut as a gun is held,
these words wield their unapologetic
assaults.

the next face i see will be the victim,
and it will be ******.
the discombobulated moon
gloats without a price tonight.
the white hand of it sees a figment of solace, rumples it,
disconcerts a votive clearing
reducing it to a bawl of
a windswept tumble of leaves.

i am now in front of the machine;
its salutary silence, its waiting groans,
its orchestra of trite gears slamming
the ornate of words and cutting
the stem of the flower that once
hurt me with its beauty,

i see your face
in this mound of havoc.
the pain of marvel's presence,
inclemencies of longings

everything takes space and trembles
  in its place.
(a projection, genuflection, and extrapolation - if/when thine eldest "star student" progeny becomes the bride of one lucky guy)

with ur svelteness quite outstanding and accompanying zeitgeist tub boot my knowledge iris see vd reprieve from arm hug get n escort rub bing bliss until thee betook by another down thee aisle of life a pub
lick venue, where eyes bet cha yar er re: zist ta bull n deaf fin knit nub

charming slightly older gal to em ma, a puerto Rican well *** boy well worth effort form to start a family o' year own, time and tide will tell
waves of nostalgia for childhood memories may be difficult to quell

effort to cultivate relationship with omnipotent emotional ease
with nuptial savings bond, a salutary hint of success - cuz he's
a near perfect match wedded til death do ye part, locked, keys

engineered principally by fate recognized worth turning to dust
where omnipotent invisible bars anchor with mettle no gust
nor clangorous discord erupts, and neither one of ye lust
after infatuation of anther hold ye with pinterest n trust.

time to curry familiarity with ye mid haw ter, i didst waste
so unwise for this papa to express envy, and how thee taste -
of euphoria, whether single r double spaced
years 'tween offspring will not conflict with biological run -  raced
as greatest marathon - yet ardent cross country track star placed
yar mental, physical and spiritual well being, where well laced
sneakers ratcheting pedometer set other challenges faced
against duel as tempus fugit will acquiesce to grim reaper
hence, i must be mindful n make haste
to gather thine few rose rubs while ye may witness time erased
all the while the shadow of father time 2b finds me chaste.

already taking quantum leaps edging 2b come college alum n aye
a severance dissolving parental protection doth evince good bye
yet tis a relief, that few tears evidence that this papa didst cry
thus, this generic guy
doth app ply
words 2 roll like die
an image in my
mind well nigh

to evoke n elicit intrigue and say "hi"
in his atypical mode - butta not 2 pry
nor intervene un-necessarily - only to share as i try
2 exchange lite banter 2.0 n case u wonder why
u most likely did not get such an electronic sigh
email if...ye wish to chit chat or converse 'bout pry
vet matter, thus nearing conclusion, dada doth notify
a hope that ye accept my
weaknesses and faltered during your girlhood - no reason 2 lie
about detached emotional fabric - faults no excuse foreign alibi.

now before i go to sleep
ur sunny roseate countenance
   will invoke slumber within me
   like an oracle - quick n deep.

meanwhile life passes in one direction end date toward
as additional minute men slink in their swiftly tail lord
non-harried style spruced n tricked up ford.
help me if you can, cuz salutary
     hans solo impossible missions
     fall short asper this mwm to break free,
     thus Siam game for heroic measures to wrest
sill loose, gnome hatter
     remaining time on Earth
     strong arm gull lancing tactics

     aye need to vest
from perverted imps stranglehold
     upon healthy existence
     will resort to extreme thine body electric
     (serves as kool aid base sic acid) test
hosting ocd (analogous to a
     suckling leech happy fiend)

     disallowing this mwm
   (similar to Sir Issac Newton) begs to take a rest
nurses nourishment feeding off host
     (thyself) linkedin, sans sybaritic symbiotic,
     excising unhealthy sycophantic relationship
     long term ultimate quest
shucking loose obsessive pest

     compulsive disorder moocher
     drilled deep into psyche tub billed a nest
which bred a hardy crop that messed
up with my enjoying life tooth ha max,
     viz parasitic, opportunistic,
     narcissistic fealty must stop lest
asphyxiation undermines ability to jest
as if deadly poison
     this chap (as a kid) accidentally did ingest

hence this attempt at plaintive pleading
     for mental health professional
     took hum at my be hest
a much more welcome guest
versus nemesis grounded rivaling mount Everest
that tis all i write unloading off my chest
an agile, fertile, and nimble sprite
     who already out best
this scrivener,  now  completed poem
    confiding bugaboo aye attest.
never could this baby boomer papa –
   lviii orbitz round mister sun as I write while wife
at present (takes her siesta) imagine
   dragons, killer Queen Latifah countless ways,

   thee first of deux daughters
   would in vite learning how to comprehend
   unfamiliar infant siren ear splitting strife
and mandatory pronto reception,
   unwittingly ineluctably altering my life

prior to parturition of our eldest heiress,
   ah wanna let
chew in on a bit about mess elf
   before becoming a papa
   no emotional, financial,
   nor physical obligation dim manned did

   obliged, nor required this bard **** to in debt
any of his waking and sleeping second,
   minute, quotidian hour,
   et cetera on behalf of another person Yukon bet

char sweet bippy, that despite initial onset
   of anticipatory anxiety (no pet
tee personal issue; burping baby,
   diapering, swaddling, et cetera fermi person

   easily got shucked off), hitherto
   didst any phenomena until then
   force displacement of personal habits
   to become secondary, and obviously,

   seriously visibly up set
status quo, where embedded fixations
   housed within this scribe
   required reassignment of tasks
   until salient event forced him to vet
any less important issues

   to an unspecified future
   date and/or time, which role  
   i.e. forsook luxury sans,
   affordable focus on me,
   and immediately didst force crash course
   to keep figurative whet
   stone sharp every waking
   and sleeping moment of me life, yet....

though a crash course imposed  role
   viz immediate adjustment of mister mom
(which obviously necessitated significant sacrifice
   upon the head of this major Tom)

never before until that juncture
   such selfless experience ever met,
but in retrospect salutary outcome
   found thoughts linkedin whereby
   time never divided, partitioned,
   or sectored off to another livingsocial being

I never took care of an infant,
   when her crying heard
   yet, the birth of Eden Liat Harris incurred
   (born at Bryn Mawr Hospital),

an irrevocable positive transformation occurred
within and without
   the world according to Matthew Scott Harris
   got mussed and stirred.

No longer central focus of mein kempf,
   NON GMO, and glue tin free
continual attention to offspring
took precedence not always glee
full, and how receptive lee

toward voluntary selflessness:
   case in point regarding the selfish me
bumped off the long entrenched priority
toward my needs and wants prithee.

A recombinant adjustment incumbent
outlook arose upon freshly minted papa,
   where stork sent
Weltanschauung demanded gent
to reef focus his shift, which meant
twenty four hours, seven days a week

   plus work in order to pay rent
away from him, and directed a tent
shun toward welfare, welcome, and well being
   for totally tubularly dependent new outlook on life,
   especially when spouse went
out for a breathing spell
became priority number
   one thru...infinity, no hard sell

though lacking with any knowhow aye tell
asper tendering attention upon survival
   of (what essentially
   constituted a foreigner), like George Szell
thy senses required rejiggering, which this fell
low highly struggled with cuz,

no handbook (as promised by manufacturer to boot
ever preceded via Sir-vex), nor followed suit
leaving nervous dada in the dark spooked by a hoot
at onset, when our bundle of joy
   more valuable than any amount of loot

could buy, and when back to apartment we did rent
(at that time) Pennfield Manor not heaven sent
situated within breathing distance
   of slaughter house five scent.
Western civilization commercialization,
commodification, communication
methodologies adrip with deification,
edification, glorification institutionalizing

libidinal market, the vast majority
modalities relay transmission via
subliminal messages. The not so
innocuous tentacles housing sour advertise
mints objectives conservative

principled paradigm blatantly bind ******* clad,
seductively alluring fashionable
supermodels, albeit highly paid visually
captivating physiques of men and/
or women attaining just barely,

their prime time asper anatomical
fancyfeast. Tis upon that ascending
pedestal, (a mere hop, skip, and
jump along the red carpet royal
treatment), where storied career
launched. Inevitable that risk  

risque monkey business tactics (i.e. questionable
ethical, moral, and parochial
precepts skirted). Nonetheless
marketable cache cows frequently,
indubitably, naturally sally forth into
klieg lights of fame and fortune.

A significant entry vis a vis segue-
way into celebrity stardom invariably
included acquiescence treatment
as sale-able merchandise. A
representative penultimately

pitches packaged person (possibly
pampered pink, perhaps poignant
playbook perused 'pon Peter Piper
picking, pecking pickled peppers)
peddled as analogous to a widget.

The primary difference contrasting
parading an aesthetically pleasing
individual versus a purveyor peddling
an inanimate object includes heavy
emphasis toward repurposing
a person larded amidst salutary,

savory sensuousness, soothingly
sublime sultriness steeped, groomed
and bathed with visually arousing,
beguiling, captivating desirable effects.

Professional (astute, cute, hirsute)
role model people, (whose genetics
and environment allowed them to
husband maximally fated beauty)
must feel very comfortable

in their own skin to display (just shy of
promiscuity) unclothed ******
verboten part. No doubt pheromone
or testosterone pulsates thru
the body electric of viewer. Coy,

flirtatious indirect luring operates
randy unfettered yearning bestirs
desire for immediate *******!
Even this two score plus nineteen

year old, (whose libido went
dormant as a side affect of
pharmaceutical prescription
medication to minimize un
predictable paralyzing panic

attacks predilection) attests at
increased precocity patronizing
my (FAKE) phallus. Many instances
incorporating some athletic,

demure, innocent looking
photogenic subject just waiting
to be the cover of a glossy
glimmering glamorous
magazine (especially an
underage male or female),

the head honcho may be
censored, disallowed, escorted)
away from any picture that hints
of inappropriate physical inter
action. Subtle techniques

and/or poses broadcasting
a delectable, honorable
laudable photograph may
unconsciously connote
spine tingling sensations
approximating statutory ****.

Such prurient intimations defy
being regulated, nor ought
flattering images snapped
by avidly conscientious,
exceptionally gifted, ineffably
kindred shutterbugs banned.

Impulsiveness (particularly,
when the welfare of a minor
OR animal happens to be
at stake) must be addressed
appropriately. If abusive

actions arise perpetrated
against a minor (simply
for anatomical excitation
sans the gender nonspecific
characteristic), the essence

of beauty best be acknowledged
synonymous with any other
physiological endowment.
Depredations highjacking

lost precious quintessential
tenderness wreaks havoc
for the remaining life of
hypothetical individual cascading
like a house of cards, the mental,
physical and spiritual states of being.
Neville Johnson Jul 2019
HOW TO WRITE A LOVE POEM

You can do it, anyone can write a love poem. First, decide you want to do it, then get something to write on, pencil or computer, and begin. Do it anytime, anywhere, whenever you have a few minutes to contemplate. View the ability to do so as a treat, for it will be fun to navigate emotion via words, akin perhaps to working a crossword puzzle as you fish for just that word or turn of phrase that gives meaning. It is challenging and exciting to find that rhyme that works.  It helps to have a strong vocabulary, but just knowing the language is all you really need. Some of the greatest poems ever created are utterly simple in the language used.
Metaphors and similes are always welcome additions to poems and utilize onomatopoeia, alliteration and assonance whenever possible. Using these tools delights the eyes and ears.
Put your mind at ease and enjoy and appreciate having the time and ability to create and think about life’s most precious gift. Start with a phrase or thought that has come to mind upon which you’d like to expand. (I have a collection of these I call upon when I’m looking for inspiration.) Focus on the what, why and how of love and its meaning to you. You can write about your feelings for someone you know or with whom you are in a relationship. Or, perhaps, you will be writing in a fictional context drawing from your own experience or from hopes and dreams. Is there someone you miss, or to whom you wish to be closer?  It helps to have someone to think about, but it’s not necessary.
There is no formula for a love poem, it can be free verse, a sonnet, or one of a myriad of rhyme schemes. When I write, I just start writing and words and rhymes just flow. It’s somewhat like riding a bicycle. It’s not that hard to learn, you can go faster and faster in any direction you want. The more you write, the easier it becomes stylistically,  
There are many kinds of romantic love:  those of longing for or missing someone special, and the contented, satisfying type when it’s really going well, among other variations. You’ll never be at a loss for inspiration. I get ideas from the newspaper, comments in conversation, and much of the time, out of thin air. So many times I’ll write a first line, not knowing where the poem will go, and lines come, one after the another, as if on a scavenger hunt. Then, voila, I have a perfectly formed little verse that is just right, at least to my eyes.
Writing has a salutary, therapeutic effect. Grappling with words and emotions in the context of love is invigorating contemplation which can assist in resolving thorny, important issues facing the poet. The problem may not be solved, but perhaps it may be defined. This is your opportunity to get back at a someone who hurt you in a failed romance. You’ll feel better after doing so and no one will ever have to know you really feel or how you were so hurt. When you do share your poems with others and loved ones, you’ll be gratified at the reaction and the recipient will be thrilled to have been the object of such affection.
Write for yourself, satisfy yourself first.  Poems are personal and can remain private forever, so don’t worry about being embarrassed about what you write. Get it down.  You don’t have to show it to anybody. However, once created, maybe you will want to. Love is about sharing, devotion, friendship. Writing poetry has gotten me through much sadness, given me goals, and been endlessly pleasing to my psyche over the years.
Be spare in your writing, don’t use any unnecessary words. There is elegance in simplicity.  It is in the editing that the poem truly comes alive. Doing a good polish is to eat the icing on the cake.
Once you start writing poetry, you will never stop. It’s addicting and just a great way to use time wisely. You will amaze yourself with what comes out of your mind and heart. It’s a process, writing, and will exercise your mind and bring much pleasure.  
Start today.
Some of you may find this helpful.
Homunculus Jan 2019
As the hour draws late,
      all the tribes gather,
The band begins to play, and
      in the midst of their serene
Exchange of musical phrases,
      I meet a quite peculiar man.
His dreadlocks hang way
      down past his shoulders, and
Above his rope sandals and
      patchwork pants, he sports
A shirt, emblazoned with
      a portrait of Lord Ganesha
Seated serenely in Lotus posture,
      overlaid by a wire wrap necklace
With a large piece of opal in the center.

His pupils are the size of
       dinner plates, nearly
Eclipsing the irises of his eyes.
       his musk is a distinctive mixture of
Body odor, *** smoke, and strong incense.
       we exchange our salutary pleasantries, and
As I absorb the spectacle of his appearance,
      he begins to discourse, saying:

"I charge my crystals
    in the moonlight, and
Keep them close by day,
   they clear my chi blockages, and
Realign my chakras,
   I burn sage and patchouli
To invoke the goddess
   spirit of the forest moon,
We are all just cosmic vibration
   expressed as living matter in
The timeless unity of
  the flowering astral plane"

He pauses for a moment,
     to light his spliff, and
After a few large tokes, continues on,
     describing the events of one fateful night,
When he "sat for a long spell, and
      experienced an unbridled quiescence of
Meditative stillness, culminating in a
      stream of flowing fractal visions, and a
      Whirlwind of
                             Pulsating
                                  Kundalini
                                       Energy

I listen with a sort of
   detached amusement, but
My brain is filtering his words out, and
    all I can hear are bursts of Charlie Brown's
Parents from the old Peanuts cartoon
    Interpolated with sentence fragments
That all seem to say the same thing:

"Look at me, I am so spiritual
  I am so profound I am so wise
I know the Truth I am enlightened"
"mwah Mwah mwah Mwah mwah
Mwah mwah Mwah mwah Mwah"

and then, suddenly, this haze of
  pseudo profound spirit science is
Interrupted by a phrase that grabs my
  attention, with strange immediacy.
"Also, I've got some fire doses. 5 a hit."

"Oh yeah?" I say. "ME, TOO, and
"I know mine are better, best on lot!"
He seems taken aback, as if offended.
He says he'll Pepsi challenge mine, and
That I'll be proven wrong. I accept.

He then pulls out  
a shiny vial of
Lucy in the Sky, and
Without hesitation,
squirts a generous
Puddle of it onto my tongue.

"Alright" he says "your turn."
I reach into my pocket,
Produce a small vial, and
Reciprocate his action.
"Now, we'll see!" He says
to me, with an air of smugness.
"That, we will" I retort.

We talk a bit longer, and
I look down at my watch.
"I must be off!" I say
"It's time for the show!"

We exchange our goodbyes, and
I wander off into the night,
Feeling rather odd,
He thinks he's bested me, but
I laugh quietly to myself,
Knowing in my mind,
That my vial was just eye drops, and
He just gave me nearly 10 hits for free, and
All for the sake of inflating the ego
He supposedly didn't have,

and you know...

I never saw him again after that.
This satirical ode is targeted at a very specific type of person. Some of my friends are what you might call "hippies"; and within the various circles associated with that subculture, you almost inevitably encounter the self styled guru, spouting off loads of pseudo-profound hogwash, using buzzwords from cultures and traditions he doesn't really understand, and effectively cheapening and undermining them in a vain attempt to make himself seem enlightened (probably to try and get laid). What's worse is that almost just as certainly will you find someone, perhaps even a group, who hangs on to his every word. These types are especially common at big music festivals.
in the rain striding past closed stalls
and bottle shops, my head the
flickering lamp, my fingers dead candles,
my eyes the last flare of splayed days.
i roar like a lion — stubbled, prowling
the deserted streets but flinch at the
first sight of shadow. revisited by old
haunts mirroring strange voices, distorting their claims — in my retina
is a woman sitting idly sewing lissomeness strings to bed and we sleep.
   i wake up quicker than any light.
lift words, chain them and sing steel songs, carry volcanoes, herald ravens.

i can't stand the populace, can't live
without them. i squat next to the fire-hydrant and imagine hounds *******
at the world. once, the sheen of the little
sightings festoon, borrow the moon and
i was once levitated into meaning. now,
i want to hang my head next to the old cypress and scream, "Forever, the peril."
   but i am the thrall of the sea.
immenser than the leviathan of ache
  the last scream of the perished hills,
forever, a clout on the grey-faced asphalt dazed into the lenient whiteness of paths,
    i still sing steel-songs, solder volcanoes, chase the salutary ravens—
  i see myself cringe but i will not cry.
the woman sleeps and i am awake,
  a gentle hand will whirl upon her
lithe figure and then gone. i am the
   tear of the cloud in their exhausted tier
but somewhere here, i am as perpetual
   as waters, tracing the end.
This long time doodling Yankee 
(who calls Southeastern Montgomery, Pennsylvania LV
plus III four seasons visited 
upon swath of topography to see
and hear flora and fauna over run 
via industrialization he doth experience pity
sympathy, humanity deafening cacophony undermining 
once abundant bounty, which mutiny 
upon bounty outwits mother nature
in this REAL LIFE “GAME” of jeopardy 
where survival of the fattest dominates avast geography
thence a tempest in a global teapot doth brew
which phenomena Gaia foments,
inducing meteorologists due
tee fully issuing catastrophic fallout
asper category 5 carved foo
tang clan along Gulf Coast 
reserving special vengeance (alas domino effect) 
for oil derricks hue mans insatiably drill into 
ever more difficult to access reservoirs sans fossil fuels, but Jew
blintz echoes across watery expanse when excavator loo
king for liquid gold hit a mother lode
(or off shoot) exciting new
man hick pumps furiously fracking gnome hatter 
watching grim faced absent magic spells such as phew 
fi foe...aghast at the rapacious, pernicious, malicious....rue
th less ness heaped upon Planet Earth, 
where tipping point 
re: specifically **** Sapiens over population will true
lee interrogate meteorological altercations, conflagrations, and
exterminations of multitudinous
botanical and animal genus or species 
as wrath of monster storms akin to a oceanic brigand
wreaking loss of life and limb, additionally bringing destruction 
as megadeath metal lick ha - monstrous maelstrom 
mercilessly muscles itself when making land
fall, where record rainfall submerges
once smug Texans man
dated to evacuate far from the pan
demon harum-scarum as retribution
for incessant lambasting wan
ton ness exploiting terrestrial resources selfishly that will eventually ban
hush the dominant primate requisitioned to become extinct – anon

miss lee as voluntarism spontaneously spawned and spun off from Biblical deluge
strangers reaching out to rescue folks unbeknownst to them without a wince
forever prompting that age old question asper why do person only evince
good Sammaritism during disasters proof  
mortal camaraderie, defensiveness, from giving, generating 
kudzu offshoots providing salutary assistance doth convince.
humanity amidst adversity.
Sia Harms Sep 2024
My mind harbours its own salutary neglect,
Disregarding the rapidness in my chest,
The perspiration on my skin,
Does it not see how these thoughts
Are affecting it?
Gorba Jul 2020
It’s hard to properly appreciate true bits of happiness
Without ever experiencing the slightest glimpse of sadness
How can we know what love is about if we have no idea about hate?
Sometimes a lie is what’s most appropriate
Is normal rather defined by what it is or what it’s not?
We have to **** cells to perform a western blot
It is a necessity to go down to have the opportunity to rebound
Shadow is visual proof that light is around
And provides a salutary breath of cool air when the heat pounds
A crash only means that you’ve taken off
If we had everything we would have nothing to dream of
If we knew everything, we would never be surprised
To lose control is to let chance unsupervised
To clear the path for the unexpected and close the door to a fate previously crystallized
Being far from loved ones, triggers a withdrawal sensation that brings us closer
The ability to feel pain is what keeps us away from fire
And stress, away from immediate danger
Rain always precedes the rainbow that later illuminates the sky
And without it our environment would be nothing but dry
The fever is a weapon to fight infection
Fatigue, a sign of determination

Who’s ever learnt anything without making any mistakes?
Who’s ever achieved something without failures?
Who’s ever gotten better by winning easy fights?

Getting hit repeatedly is an ineluctable feature of any victorious crew
Cell death shapes us and insures overall maintenance
Being vulnerable is a requirement of every single romance
Painstakingly climbing a “cloud-scratching” hill is the price to pay for a breathtaking view
A major crisis can help us reconsider our centuries old perspectives
One of the worst mass extinctions is the solely reason why we exist
Sharing our world with flying dinosaurs that sing in the morning

Living in a world full of relative paradoxes is our most valuable blessing
It gives us the wonderful gift of being able to make a decisive choice
Between being trapped powerless or considering the silver lining
Suffering in silence or releasing tension loudly and eventually rejoice.

— The End —