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Aa Harvey Jun 2018
The Flibbertigibbet


Such a ludicrous name, unto you may never have been heard;
But The Flibbertigibbet Demon lives in the land of words.
They hide there in The Thesaurus, in front of our eyes,
Like The Devils spies in paradise.


The bookworm with tapeworm, failed to see The Flibbertigibbet;
But then one day The Bookworm, just happened to come across it.
It stood out from the rest, because it didn’t sound human;
Then I read the description and it simply said Demon.


The demonic disguise, lead to the corruption of the mind.
It is now forever entwined, with the Flibbertigibbet inside.


(C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Stanley Zakyich Feb 2013
Flibbertigibbet speaks of the moon
and all that lies beneath.
"Jimminy-Cricket, why so soon?"
"My, what a wondrous wreath!"

"Beautiful picket!" Said to the man
She slept with just last week.
"Care for a biscuit?" Inviting him in,
Making gossip as she shrieks.

"Flibbertigibbet," Still in the bed,
"How did you like it now?"
Dressed as a misfit, "It was whatever."
Adultery tickled her brow.

Flibbertigibbet speaks of the moon
and all that lies beneath.
She speaks of the man cheating on his wife
To gossip, and without grief.
Flibbertigibbet - a chattering or flighty, light-headed person.
Mike T Minehan Apr 2013
I like a whole lip-smacking smorgasbord of words,
such as preposterous and scrumptious,
sumptuous and curious,
roiling, rambunctious and trumpeting,
priapic, satyric and seraphic,
satyriasis and mimesis. Now this mimesis is the imitative
representation of nature and behavior in art and literature,
which is a pretentious way of trying to say what us writers do.
But hey, we don't just mimic things,
we can be sagacious and salacious, too.
Accordingly, I also like *******, which has a liquid sound,
and I'm not being facetious to suggest that
******* has a close connection to callipygous.
Then, for those who are suspicious of the libidinous,
I also like curmudgeonly and bodacious,
loquacious, precocious and pulchritudinous,
lubricious and fugacious,
scripturient, radiance, iridescence and magnificence,
lissome, lithe and languid (but not too limp),
shimmering and diaphanous, effulgent and evanescent,
flamboyant, fandango and flibbertigibbet,
(although this is difficult to say when you’re drunk),
voluptuous and vertiginous, slithery, **** and glistening.
And when I include crepuscular, strumpet and strawberry,
I may as well add whipped cream
as well, because this can be laid on in dollops,
and dollops is really an excellent word
along with slurping and *******, too.
Actually, I'm very flexible about words,
because in my lexicon, low moaning noises are OK, too.
These sounds come from the chord of creation
which is a sort of reverberation from the time of
primordial ooze, which I would like to squish between my toes.
Then there's protozoa, spermatozoa and also
wriggling flagella everywhere. So there.
But words don't even need to make sense,
because sweet nothings can say everything,
and heavy breathing can be ******,
even rhapsodic, ending in delirium.
Titillating should be in here too, because we all need
some tintinnabulation and tickling of the senses sometimes.
I've also decided that fecund is my second favorite word after love.
Fecund sounds abrupt, but it buds magnificently
in ******* and bellies to burgeon in absolute abundance,
everywhere. This brings me to *******, which I like, too.
I'm also partial to proud words, including bold, bulging and
brazen, along with a bit of swaggering braggadocio.
Then I like some big words, like brobdingnagian,
although I hope I'm not sesquipedalian.
Salivate is a word to celebrate as well,
along with onomatopoeia that helps choose some words here.
Drooling is highly evocative, too,
and it's not being provocative to observe that
even weapons drool when they're in the wrong hands.
And I shouldn't leave out *******, as you would expect,
because ****** is a sort of rippling word
that rhymes with spasm. Both sound deceptively simple,
but by golly, they can be intensely gripping.
And really, it's alright to writhe to this occasion
because all of us writers should endeavor
to have some good writhing in our oeuvre.
Even some bad writhing can be lots of fun, too.
But I almost forgot to mention yearning and burning (with desire)
and vulviform, velvet and venerous.
Yippee, yee har and hollerin' along with other exclamations
of exhortatory exuberance should be in this index, too.
Now. The words I don’t like include no, can’t, never,
stop and mustn’t. Also, irascible and intractable,
unmentionable, ineffable, inexpressible, incoherent,
immutable, impotent and impossible.
Then I don't like importune and misfortune,
and I don't know who thought up unthinkable,
because this is an oxymoron.
Inscrutable is also a complete cop out,
especially when there's no such word as scrutable.
Gawping, gaping, cavernous and cretinous, obsequious,
grovelling, pursed lips, circuitous,
obfuscation and isolation, unpalatable,
cruelty, tyranny and hypocrisy,
should also get the heave-**.
And I definitely don't like parsimonious and mendicant,
which are miserable words.
Quitting doesn't get there either,
and shut the **** up and ******* should also be taboo.
Also, hopeless is, really, well, it's hopeless
because it denies hope, and hope is buoyant and boundless.
I mean, sometimes hope is all we have.
But the word I dislike most is ****,
because this is an insulting word, and
to be taxonomical,
the negative score of this word is astronomical.
Hate is also right up there on this list. Hate is abominable
because it tries to destroy love, and love is indomitable.
Indomitable
is the
mightiest
word
of them all.
Yeah. So there.

Mike T Minehan
II felt good after writing this - it was a bit like purging the personal dictionary in my head. I think all of us could write our own list...
Adele Jul 2014
One tedious journey, the blistering heat of the day made me stay.
I am home outside the porch exploring my eyes of the panoramic scenery of the countryside.

My mother baked Vanille Kipferl (vanilla crescents) with her own special recipe. The haunting aroma entice through my nostrils. She loves to bake especially on sunny days.

She went out to hand me a plate of cookies and mumbled how magnificent the scenery of the valleys.
True, it is breath taking but she gets to be so flibbertigibbet sometimes.

The tranquility of surroundings is exquisite.
I exhaled and it felt so good.
Rocking the chair, I grabbed an old novel from a table.
The cover was all tattered and dusty but I still flip it.

Then, I walked through a twisting thicket road bound by soil.
The vast green grass sways as the wind dance around them.
The singing of birds is beautiful.
I held my cloche hat while swaying my white regency gown like a lunatic. Every day is a gift. And that gift needs to be value.

I found a shade from an old oak tree at the top largest hill.
It was cozy but I don’t want to sleep, I’m afraid I’ll end up in a Rabbit Hole.  Instead, I climbed the tree with all my might, until I reached the edge.

Up here is different. You can see everything!

The sea is barely visible. Towns and villages are lined up. The atmosphere is heavenly. I embraced the beauty and got down from this old oak tree.

I snatched the book I left on the ground. I hugged it and when I look behind…

I am in a bridge that crosses a canal.

I found a flat-bottomed rowing boat with a man singing.
He looks funny in his striped shirt and black pants.
He grabbed his skimmer and bowed down.
There I go curtsy.
He told me he’ll show me the world. I just hopped in.
The place is floating! There are buildings with such unique architectures.

The man rowed and rowed while singing a song called “O Sole Mio”.
Since it was Neapolitan, I just listened and it sounded romantic.

He said we’re almost there.



The honking of vehicles and jamming traffic roused me.
I put the book inside my bag and looked in front.
The cars are huddled together.
These yellow cabs are not moving.

I descend my feet on the ground and shut the door.
The rapid combustion is hideous!

Burger joints, restaurants, people… more people. It’s too crowded.

Anyway, I made my way to this small coffee shop for a little zap!

Then the intense feeling got me clairvoyant.

Flipping pages, I come to enter a portal of a different universe.

In my own little world that no one can get me.

I am the protagonist.

5/25/14
Sheena S  Aug 2011
Hide this.
Sheena S Aug 2011
Reality obliterates.
An overdose of anything is bad.

I saw you standing by the gate of my castle one night.

It’s a fight, baby, a fight.
I’d rather not bring this up now, now or ever.

Poised to evolve, to create and be,
Ah, this mystery. It is not for me.

Twenty nine, you said. I wish.
Now your cue: ‘It was only a kiss – how did it end up like this.’

Poles split apart. Lives break.
Dices’ fate?
Never too late
For you and I to make
it.

Priorities, priorities. We all must have some.
Or that’s what I was told.
By someone old
and presumably wiser than I.

I don’t think I understand yours.
To be so clear now, so transparent, may not bode well for me.

Anyhow, the problem persists. I do not know.
I can only make sense of what you show.

Like a teacher, a guide, a mentor might.
But ah. What if the disciple lacks the insight?

Inside me. Inside you. Inside something beautiful.
Flew away, flew away: that one and her nuances.
And left us with this wonderful,
Incorrigible mess of things.

Like twisting beads into a big ball of yarn.
Or letting the dog mangle it up with salivating earnestness.

The beads, they make all the difference.
And you are my beads.
Of all shapes (mostly round),
Of all sizes (mostly large),
Of all colours (mostly nothing – mostly them all.)

And you know what? I like colours.

Colour me unrecognizable

(By anyone but you.)
There was no other
I could give myself to.

I cant ascertain
Whether it’s me I lost, or gained.
You I made proud, or shamed.
Respect lost, or love regained.

This would be easier in nonsense verse.
Flibbertigibbet very nicely puts me in retrospect.

What am I doing?
I can’t phrase poetically,
Much less understand what I say.

It may be for you to know.
For you only, for you forever.

Hide this.
Civet Wright Apr 2017
After you crush and partook my humours
A feeling station has built for doomers
Named it after your dead corse cuticular
Opposite to their black church for stumer
Where Inferno requiem strum for whoever
All about our transgressions watched by zoomer

Nay alas thee sayeth, Nay alas thee sayeth
Nay alas thee sayeth, Nay alas thee sayeth
Nay alas thee sayeth, Nay alas thee sayeth

You play sympathy for the devil
So I am flibbertigibbet as usual
Whose birth was foretold
Who own merfolks griffon
Wherefore good well has burnt the evil
I want you best mine own old-old

Nay alas thee sayeth, Nay alas thee sayeth
Nay alas thee sayeth, Nay alas thee sayeth
Nay alas thee sayeth, Nay alas thee sayeth
Dracol Noir Sep 2016
One, the cater-cousins thee shun.
Two, darkness they eschew.
Three, a cag'd bird shall kicketh the bucket at which hour setteth free.
Four, thou art the did hunt, the prey; the boar.
Five, nobbut a bee in the hive.
Six, they've forseen thy deceit; belay thy tricks.
Seven, a curs'd soul shan't returneth to heaven.
Eight, death is every living being's fate.
Nine, if 't be true god is the Flibbertigibbet himself, who is't doth thee worship at the holy shrine?
Ten, time tells the day of thy damnation.
Old English version. ;)
(alternately titled:
this ****** temple pilot ready for Styx)

I hate tubby a nuisance
     boot ma checking account...
suffered a major hit strafed
     with a shock king
     (difficult to absorb) 'bout
mid morning today August fourteenth,
     tooth how sand eighteen
     and got rushed with clout

to the nearest emergency triage facility,
     the doctors (all
     named Piggy Penny Banks)
     shook their head with doubt
prognosis for recovery requires more'n
     just a dime a dozen,
     (or quarter back) appeal,
hence my plea for posting,

     this helter skelter heroic measure
     summarily and in fact
     donate myself (earning Purple Heart
     as a non veteran)
     bone a (er) fide done deal
yea, aye even forgo thine
     **** a doodle doo lil pecker,
     which minimally doth
     newt rue, stir, nor ring

     atrophied house broken
     barely visible ***** tis docile, and
     (like a game ****)
     ***** nilly able
     at a moe mince notice
     dir wreck lee (stand stiff)
     head over heal
no...no..no, though

     strut that eye feel rendered poverty stricken,
     a sudden dark mood
     finds me less eager tubby alive
asper thine primary (albeit only)
     checking account poorly
     weathered a kamikaze nose dive
with the plight of pennilessness
     unexpectedly looming...

     (parental advisory) breaking news at five,
when motley crews auto be buzzing
     like a b52 sized bee hive
ah...mine posthumous fame,
     and fortune posse sub bully
     as palliative relieving
     grave gallows humor
     small consolation, whereat
     I cannot fathom to facebook,
     snapchat, nor do the shutterfly jive!
(alternately titled: impossible mission goes awry
probably mortal enemy cast spell binding jinx)

Both mental versus
physical tasks necessitate
laser sharp attentiveness
triggered within blinks
similarly on par when people toast
momentary instance utter silence

before more'n one
wine glass simultaneously clinks
cheering hurray, especially
if delicate circumstance
incorporates telecommunications downlinks
critical vital communique transmitted courtesy
think outlier (christened

Saint Matthew Scott Harris)
with acute instincts
held hostage between warp,
and woof fifth of dimension
far away beyond where
outer limits exhibits kinks

nsync with twilight zone
dwell alienated ratfinks
resembling authentic animated
Doctor Seuss characters
where one after another
third eye blind winks.

Lame excuse told cosmic speck (me)
sending yours truly on wild goose chase
an underhanded way to rub
inept feeble poetaster punster
out webbed wide world existence
purportedly great eats boasted
deep inside black hole pub

must make posthaste
to nearest galactic grubhub
mission control haint made no flub
boot deliberately thought
ineffectual doling out futile drub
cuz mister flibbertigibbet (me)
ostracized from highly selective club.

The aforementioned synopsis and
ultimate banishment cheered with big bang
decreed courtesy kangaroo court
constituting beastie boy gang
think star wars movie,
where farcical charges *******
offering accused two choices,
either to hang
suspended (think piñata) and beat

to (fictional) pulp
torturers obviously ignoring pang
of utter emasculation, but rather sang
a song of sixpence
while downing flasks of vintage tang
crafty entrepreneur William A. Mitchell in 1957
******* drinking vessels
resembling Chewbacca's oversize ****.
---------------------------------------------------
Lyrics­

Sing a Song of Sixpence
BY MOTHER GOOSE
Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of rye,
Four and twenty blackbirds
Baked in a pie.

When the pie was opened
The birds began to sing—
Wasn't that a dainty dish
To set before the king?

The king was in the counting-house
Counting out his money,
The queen was in the parlor
Eating bread and honey,

The maid was in the garden
Hanging out the clothes.
Along came a blackbird
And snipped off her nose.
Oh flibbertigibbet
****, heil (Stuart Little) let mice
self down dagnabbit,
no matter this lactose intolerant,

conscientious, consumer and avowed kit
and caboodle - ***** vegetarian,
who lacked true grit,
cuz he craved a ham, rabbit

and cheese sandwich that hit
the bunny phone
spot (courtesy pit
tickle yule lee
     of The Daily Bread

Community Food Pantry sit
chew waited at 3938 Ridge Pike
    Collegeville, Pennsylvania 19426)
aye red deli admit
to fear with some darkly knit

shadow of a doubt reddit
lee, about being a boot
being smidgen afrit
of some powerful jinn crit
ture, demon, nor banshee

     making mincemeat out of me
     (Matthew Scott Harris),
whom now wants
to make quick exit
(and if fye sprouted

wings, would flit)
cuz, yours truly did coe vit
an insatiable app pit
tight carnivorous consumption
     where a craving awoke

like an addict hood needs a hit
ma tastebuds writhed with a bit
of minor seizure to let
me dentures bite to edit
mas exclusion of meat, and savor

     mouth watering satisfaction
as if masticating an illicit
substance, and all the while
     my awareness sans unethical
treatment of animals

went out figurative window
a disc credit
tummy sympathy for
     hogtied eggs eck rubble mitt
treatment steer

     ring agri business
to the mighty dollar,
     where die hard
slaughter houses will never quit!
Preface:
Now a break away,
sans creepy crawly
     dis straw hit gray
eve haunting
     phantasmagoric cree hay
shin master minding

     schema getting way
over mine headless body nee,
my twitching decapitated torso
     attempt at muck cob bray
(oh...first lemme hide
     this ****** knife - okay?)
-----------------------------------
Despite being unilingual,
     exempli gratia (abbreviated
     i.e. and/or e.g.) tub
be thus lacking an obvious
     advantage of a polyglot,
     nonetheless a bub
lee delight arises
     listening to words spoken

     other than English,
     which thrills this club
carrying bipedal hominid,
     whose second favorite sound
     comprises live heart
     beating lub-dub
preferably, this fist size
critical pumping muscle,

     that doth ***** eyes,
cupid ditty among
     gals and guys
and prima facie scrutiny
     cardiologist doth apprise
situated between lungs,
     that multi-chambered
     x mass for breathing noel hies

yet obviously superfluous
     when a person dies,
which deceased person offers
     little oratorical appeal
since dead silence
     the lingua franca
     of all peoples extant
     among every commonweal

ushering a silent sing
     flibbertigibbet deal
ling forgone opportunity
     especially aspirating rhetorician
     unable to talk and/or feel,
thus more valuable
     to me of a heal
thee subject, yes

     even more ideal
if hypothetic per
     son proficient /fluent
to enunciate crisp and clear
amidst an assortment
     of tongues with out fear
with mispronunciation,
     and inciting glare

ring, where gasps of utter
     disbelief listeners did hear
though to this untrained un lear
wren head language lover,
     I would become mesmerized.
-----------------------------------
Post Script:

This complex abstract
     monumental task bay
sic hilly feebly
     followed (the metaphorical
     yellow brick road)
     encompassing distinct way
natives of any nation speak,
     which mental foray

considerably strayed into
     less than fifty shades of gray
perhaps disappointing retinue, may
feel indignant enough to fricassee,
mum meat from
     lovely bones and fillet.

— The End —