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no, not a political divide crossed.

no, not switching fandom to the
hated other crosstown team,
with the clownish bobble head
thing.

once a meat eater, a meat eater
for life.

stolidly, boringly straight, waaay
too late
to switch that side.

the switch referred to herein is more
profound, straining boundaries of a
decades long term relationship.

I desire  to switch sides of the bed we
sleep on, after decades of habit, that
transferred with us when we traveled,
moved etc. To each Our Side was the
Natural Order of Things, a higher law,
immutable, constitutional and ranked
higher than the Ten Commandments.

over time, my side sank beneath the
excess weight of growing old with
bad lifestyle habits…a bad back, an
aging frame, core muscles that seem
to have been decored, made a new
firmer bed a necessity,

when we called 1-800-Mattress, we two
social security retirees, were shocked,
shocked! at the hole in our budgets
such an expenditure required.  We would
be forced to survive on bread (brioche)
and water (Pelligrino) for weeks, our only
condimentable affordable would be margarine,
a pseudo butter made in chemical factories.

so, she refused.

I sank into deep despair, for who could deny
her finger pointing “J’accuse” where responsibility
for this truly lay (lie?).

marriage counselors demanded exorbitant premium
prepayments, Medicare said ha ha, and United Health
Care was united in their ***** opposable *******
but eloquent “Mais Non!”

As I write this, Climate Comservationists have confirmed
my sinking side is now receding at a rate of 4 cm/year.
The implicit implication was at the Great Melt Flood of 2050
that was coming to sink us, I would not be quietly floating down
the Hudson River out to a South Pacific isle, but would join Jason Bourne in the green crystal clear waters of the nearby East River, but unlike Jason, I can’t hold my breath for twenty minutes, ergo and ipso facto, I am doom-ed.

So I have started a GoFundMe to obtain a new airy mattress  capable of variable soft/hard differential setting on each side, with an inflatable air pumping gizmo just for the end of days.

Thanking you in advance and be assured lol your contributions will remain not anonymous.

Yours, Extra, Sincerely,

Ogdiddynash (Ogdiddynatsch)
the reason why my name has a variant spelling is because some in our family Americanized our Germanic uprooted spelling when
we came ove on the Titanic
ogdiddynash Feb 8
exactly how white do I want to be?

came to terms with my whiteness sometime ago,
the dentist mixes in, an offer to refresh my yellowed
pearls, who’ve served admirably long, sure footed,
long in the tooth…

surprisingly, this puts me off guard, uncharacteristically
unprepared,

exactly how white do I want them to be?

mmm…

the scale is as follows (intermediary levels are complicated)

1. Taylor Swift Bright







10. Cowardly Lion Old Yeller

and shades in between, I’ve grown accustomed to to my smile, which is closest to the Lion’s accreted usage and
wear and tear, and decide to stay as is, to keep my body
in a state of synchronicity

Doctor puzzled, “why do I smile?”

Why Doktor!
you’ve commissioned a poem,
and now know why your License Plate
declare you as Dentist so boldly,
You have the power to end racial strife,
uniform the populace with bright headlights,
and clearly should be allowed to proceed
posthaste to any and all life threatening
emergencies

but my preference is to display many decades
of failure, irregular brushes, periodic flossed,
my natural color my god-given grace, and who
am I
OR ANYONE ELSE
be empowered
to disturb the natural order of  human
perfectionism schematics, for
to every season, every human being,
**there is a color unique!
ogdiddynash Feb 8
exactly how white do I want to be?

came to terms with my whiteness sometime ago,
the dentist mixes in, an offer to refresh my yellowed
pearls, who’ve served admirably long, sure footed,
long in the tooth…

surprisingly, this puts me off guard, uncharacteristically
unprepared,

exactly how white do I want them to be?

mmm…

the scale is as follows (intermediary levels are complicated)

1. Taylor Swift Bright







10. Cowardly Lion Old Yeller

and shades in between, I’ve grown accustomed to to my smile, which is closest to the Lion’s accreted usage and
wear and tear, and decide to stay as is, to keep my body
in a state of synchronicity

Doctor puzzled, “why do I smile?”

Why Doktor!
you’ve commissioned a poem,
and now know why your License Plate
declare you as Dentist so boldly,
You have the power to end racial strife,
uniform the populace with bright headlights,
and clearly should be allowed to proceed
posthaste to any and all life threatening
emergencies

but my preference is to display many decades
of failure, irregular brushes, periodic flossed,
my natural color my god-given grace, and who
am I
OR ANYONE ELSE
be empowered
to disturb the natural order of  human
perfectionism schematics, for
to every season, every human being,
**there is a color unique!
Upon appearance of an untitled poem with no body in my Drafts
<>
never have I ever
written an untitled poem,
nor painted a human sans
a head;  arms, legs, o.k., but,
but when the purging urging
enwraps me at 12:22 in the AM,
i cannot birth my babies
stillborn,
unnamed, forlorn,
it’s every breath would be
an accusation, of breach, malfeasance,
a child nameless, is the worst of all orphans,

the poem’s title is its inner essence, a preface,
a forward, and epilogue, just as your names is
both begin and end, a hint of who you are and from
whence you came, and where you are bound to be bound,
it is your birth name, and final resting place, a hint of who you
we’re, ared destined to become, to be, and to come,
an entitlement!

ah you curse or bless, thy given name, no longer do
you examine it, write it repeatedly, to despise or admire
the sounds of it exiting thy mouth, a roomful of teeth
and tongue in concert cooperating and conniving, silky
hissing your who-you-are-ness, you, who are poem, exist not,
cannot be, without your entitlement; ah you pause and say
to the sleeping woman who neither hears nor cares,
who am I, who I am, and the differences
entre deux
that are my
character

yes, a untitled poem is forever unwished, unfinished
unwashed?
and to eternity, forever lost,
unsigned, unconsugned
finis @2:52Am
2-5-2024
ogdiddynash Feb 7
exactly how white do I want to be?*


came to terms with my whiteness some(many)times ago,
yet, the dentist mixes in, an offer to refresh my yellowed
pearlys who’ve served admirably long, so sure footed,
long in the tooth…so to speak

surprisingly, this puts me off guard, uncharacteristically
unprepared,

exactly how white do I want them to be?

mmm…

the scale is as follows (intermediary levels are complicated)

1. Taylor Swift Bright







10. Cowardly Lion Old Yeller

and shades in between, I’ve grown accustomed to to my smile, which is closest to the Lion’s accreted usage and
wear and tear, and decide to stay as is, to keep my body
in a state of synchronicity

Doctor puzzled, “why do I smile?”

Why Doktor!
you’ve commissioned a poem,
and now know why your License Plate
declare you as Dentist so boldly,
You have the power to end racial strife,
uniform the populace with bright headlights,
and clearly should be allowed to proceed
posthaste to any and all life threatening
emergencies

but my preference is to display many decades
of failure, irregular brushes, periodic flosses,
my natural color, my god-given grace, and who
am I
OR ANYONE ELSE
be empowered
to disturb the natural order of human
perfectionism schematics, for
to every season, every human being,

is a color unique!
ogdiddynash Jan 13
<>


many the hours
she has spent
trying to ascertain which,
is she wearing

is it black or
is it navy?

leaves her
amazingly distraught;
she stands in bare yellow bulb light,
in a jaundiced glory undecided,
locked in her
not-a-walk-in closet,
till I’m called once-too-many-times
to catch and release her,
asking me, grrr,
my opinion,

what do I think?

brought her
my old school tie,
Joseph-striped of many colors,
but essentially preppy navy,
but only intended for
closet comparison purposes.

as far as I know,
she’s still
hanging
about there,
hung up, so to speak,
in an ocean of indecision,
right where I left her,
throughly undecided.


ogdiddy
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