Axed Remnants of Unbridled Verse (Enjoy)

reflection verse, a.k.a. poetry

(I’ve still not been able to balance this…
“Happy Thoughts” didn’t help; already stale, sitcom-esque…)

Pseudo-nym(ph)Old, maniac
Nom de plume, though mashed and bashed,
filled with starch and coded in hash.
On-chip cache, but never cash;
unbelieved, they pilfer your stash.
Pickett’s charge, in relatives past, none future
to speak of.
Banned barge, Empire Boardwalk— prohibition:
Speak-Easily of.
And to the cheap tales: “narcotics in the mail,”
or a cheap-ass mailed box
with an excess ‘e’;
like Pickles, but with a ‘D’:
uninebriated uncouth, to clinical in being
hard awake, yet still Asleep.

2012-09-01
potential v. reality
(So much is right in the world,
and so much is wrong.
Or so your parents told you.)

So much broken (in change),
things moved around,
alternate switching
of your mental lamp, add
thought of rewiring your brain
—all weird looking at it now.
Competing thoughts and motions...
—move too hastily, you loose it all.

(And then you realize your dreams,
while still tender.
But the nature of ‘practical’
can make it difficult to render.)
Some become janitors,
and some settle early,
but some that go far in their profession
end up professional janitors;
Like the Video from 2011
of a rocket bunch,
(with rocket scientists reduced to)
removing a cheap decal.

—————
10.05-6,9,12
(A Wallflower In Darkness)

—————
2012-10-09
distant bonding
i enjoy her
like a part of me
or precognition
beautiful and real
what i see
but she is taken
and old enough to be
a parent
and is
unlike me.

—————
Summer’s End Rush
morning wood
burning trouble
hockey double
Goon with stubble
lost a tooth
found a lover
dragon slayer
Danny Glover.
mid-noon huddle
midnight cuddle
slowing down
to a muddle.

—————
2012-10-10
find yourself (dream)
Bus uphill,
park and woods;
’80s figure,
’course she could.
One far catch,
left holding even;
right overtaxed, had
something to believe in.

Overweight males,
black gathering;
the house now on sale—
can this be happening?
Like father like son,
the mother here missing;
stand to play games,
no care in my wishing.

Write before strike,
rules within selves;
pasta in play,
and bait on the shelves.
Dark/crude violence,
game recognized;
low water arches,
—now I’m surprised.

“Convenience” store items
and stock room stealing,
police here, ignoring,
the keys are revealing
a crime scene next door
with nothing left here
onto the back hill, yard,
forgetting my fear.


—Based on a dream
that told me I’m not
allowing myself to find or see
what I want
where I am,
and maybe
someone would appear
...with a touch of Baseball
(days prior)
dreamt in the form of Peggy Bundy...

—————
life’s inversion
nerves to move;
without, cannot.
nutrition from
what came out.
legs or arms;
rooted/floating.
C exhaled, N inert;
all absorbed, some in dirt.
toxic burned;
common fire.
comes and goes,
again, required.

—————
2012-10-1x
desperation
he sleeps in the shadows
pervades darkest dreams
he fakes his own callow
and slips through the seams
he seeps brown colors
no matter the clean
and even the cruel
would call him crazy or mean
so ugly within
his truth adorns lies
no kith and kin
his ken is his pride
forever and a day
he did as he pleased
disturbing the innocent
could never be seized
until someone asks
he may not respond
he is truly unable
to make true bonds
what do you picture
this man to be?
is he at your door?
I bet he’s is hungry.

—————
2012-10-1x to 11-21
Aug-tober Fest

A red fox crossed,
and Redd Foxx died;
some were surprised.
But no one sighed.
One outshined.
Campaign, Kind—
no, not Amanda Bynes.

Fist in the air,
sweep the stairs;
punch a tree,
have less hair.
More mistakes, but
never boring;
on a schedule…
stayed up all morning.

Compact it all,
pack a punch;
sick—try not to
lose your lunch.
head-ing dumb;
make a scare
with thinning gums.

Whe’er bon voyage,
or bon voyeur;
Haulden Caufield
or Tom Sawyer?
‘Burning moon’
or ‘waxing bush’;
while burning rubber,
on, you must push.

Thick semolina,
reading ‘Big Bird fired’;
let sleeping dogs lie,
and let writing transpire!
The numbers are out:
fewer hired.
To get sudden help,
but by then you’re so…damn…tired.

It happens in “Those Awkward Moments”,
or maybe some of them stolen;
in “The Garden of Friendship”
…whilst quarrels foment.
—Not leaving till we see a moose!
—Or maybe some decadent chocolate mousse,
and finally got those Fruits of Harvest,
but only when you tried your hardest.

You can contemplate and act,
or complain and whine, or
surmise,
do visions
of the Grim Reaper
in the distance
motivate you to exercise?

Failed to link,
enjoy fresh ink.
Australia, New Zealand,
desert-parched, need a drink.
A way with words,
a way with lines;
some divine, but
losing time.

Pray for peace,
prepare for war;
gone for broke;
shaken core.
Not stuck in a rut, but
wanting more;
as one window closes
…so do the rest of the doors!

Love struck syndrome;
“The wasp has gone.”
LEGO creations
+ dictators & pawns.
Quickly cramming
or torn in a dorm;
don’t burn up,
too much inform.

Venting founder Rick Santelli,
right again;
write your Congressman
—or, maybe write a friend!
more tinnitus,
myiopic blind;
still going strong…
Nope, lost my mind.

“And I don’t know where I put it.”

—————
2012-10-13
Happy Thoughts
skipping, gleefully,
a splash of feet in a puddle.
you respond to the thought,
and?
clothes all wet.
no biggie; I’ll change.
puddle of urine.
guess I’ll take a shower.
acid rain mixed in.
that shower, now.
burning skin where exposed.
moving now, singing; happy.
gone off, an atom bomb.
out of sight, mind—happy!
flash and breeze, not far away.
what a lovely breeze!
you’re incinerated.
...
well, at least I died happy.

—————
in eight (dream)
in eight
you got something
you ’got gumption!
it’s those little things that count
until inflammation sets in
and everything hurts
seemingly regardless of action.

clicking, shuffling
never able to locate the sound
and the words escape me
once again.
ends in music and radio clip repeat
WRKO
some Eminem and others,
some censored, in a box.

to bridge and hill
the water and greens
and how you might jump;
but (there is) too much land (below).
a small cloth that seconds
as a bird
that’s been used up, to twelve hours
except now it died; to cloth again.

(such a cloth that) 
stored the essences
of a couple women
or witches.

—————
2013-04-24
the busted aberration (nightmare)

Paint and plaster;
the death trap of my home no longer scares me
as it used to one time, during the night;
instead, the features
—creases, dimples of nails and holes
seem that they may
move like parasites, across the wall, the floor.
But this one stops at my hand,
where I am immune,
and it, this aberration I see is a part of me.

It dodges.

I fail to stop it,
traversing along surfaces,
toward the hall, into the bedroom.

I fail to stop it,
going where I’d fear it would,
onto the bed… onto my mother.