#blatant
~For the master poet rr, Woody, Rich Richardson
now in heaven, with Daisy,
or wherever they be hiding!
awkward.
these words; his words,
I did not write,
worse yet,
words,
writ of me,
about me…
an appendage to my name,
lost in the millions of comments,
all that haunt my scribbles, slow dying in an
internet’s blinking afterlife's half-life…of a millibyte
if you know me, or think you do,
at all,
the thought of this ungainly praise,
tho long lingered in my storage unit brain,
was something to be kept, of value,
not by me discarded,
till someone carts my
"things "
to the junk heap,
*(A Literary Aside:
and the purge of the written word
from an overburdened internet,
too full of itself,
is brutally 'deaccessioned,'
to make room for the new,
"more important stuff"
by anonymous offalofficials,
who live in a world where
all is clair, nothing is fair,
and the standards of them,
are believed to be the only ones
that ever, always mattered)*
for no one else
to keep, to for~sake, and or a momentary cherishing
for~goodness~sake,
no inscription in the family bible, that does not exist
take these words upon the tongue
of my hands, to taste them, ****** and chew
them overly~slowly, revel in their
pleasuring simple proud flavorings,
like a desert that can never be remade,
in this world of mostly never agains,
place them off to one side, and then
let them cry themselves to sleep upon my
death, and let them die alongside my days
“now nearer our god than thee"
these are wistful days in my life,
I have aged well beyond my
'sell by date'
and lay upon a bodega shelf,
priced to go, because no one
would buy a clear wrapped
cheese, visibly moldy,
not even me, the great frugalist…
I arose this day, with no intention
of writing of this honorable mention,
and only by fated accident, while
searching for another, different
prior ancient writ, once more,
stubbed my eyed toes upon it,
and given the calendar date,
a reasoning to be remaining unnamed,
the time of the year, this being
the Day of Atonement,
and the
source
of my better scripting, and a hallmark
day in my life's playbill, rose up,
of the page, sweetly snarling,
repent, repent, repent
so, unable to avoid,
added to the pile of bills that familiarily
affectionately marked 'unpayable,'
I. last time. will speak to them,
in a moody mood of contrition,
knowing full too well, that this
prideful venture is just another
sin,
that wandered in from its own
piling, the one labeled,
'inexcusable deeds, unforgivable'
I know, I know, too long already,
too many sidecars of distraction,
and as of yet, not a single word
addressed direct to the substantive
weight of this poem's instigating
phrase.
perhaps, cause I dare not speak
of it, and the admixture of emotions
Rick’s spell does up conjure,
blatant courage
are words not even in my vocab,
missing from my own dictionary,
when used in my connection,
blatant cowardice statistically
more prominent and much useable,
and "to care!"
that seems to me to be
another dishonesty re
one who has spent so
many years 'caring'
to explain himself to himself,
an egotistical escapade, not
deserving of the time invested,
for the most notable factoid re me,
is that there so little, absolutely,
worth noting, that that
is its, most
notable characteristic
**** child, do not protest,
my~legacy, if such there were,
is a, was, and a, was not,
anything indistinguishable
from all the rest,
and caring is a dead giveaway-away,
one who could write so much about
his feeling owned, clearly has his
priorities declared conduct unbecoming
so it occurs to me what a wonderful
obit,
this is it (it rhymes),
this would be, but
I'm hearing a curmudgeonly voice, reminding
me. as too usual, too long, boy, too many words,
but words are free and pretty much all I've
ever owned, and the one luxury of self indulgence
most guilty of…and put this with your other
unimportant papers that will be incinerated when
a son comes to clean out what I once called,
my belongings or
my-to be-longings
either works…
Dec 11, 2025
Dec 11, 2025 at 2:20 PM UTC
You know I saw this from miles away
planted my feet determined to stay,
you’re always searching for an answer,
blatant location: Tropic of Cancer,
I try to give direction but it’s something I can’t say.
So don’t go giving up on me
I try my best to make it all easy,
but you’re determined to house this burden,
even though it’s certain I’m the person,
who’s always around even when you can’t see.
I’ve got the patience of a saint and some,
and gained belief and knowledge from
what dreams may come.
Well we’ve discussed this and more
opened the lines and opened the door.
So divided and undecided,
why try to fight it when we can’t hide it,
you can’t go showing someone truth they’re not ready for.
I’ve got the time to wait in slum,
some would say I’m playing dumb
for what dreams may come.
I’ll keep living under heavy thumb,
trying to convince myself I’m numb
to what dreams may come.
Aug 17, 2019
Aug 17, 2019 at 9:50 PM UTC
I am a
No good
No-one
and you can't
Tell me
Otherwise.
In the end
I've found
All that really
Matters
Is who you were to them,
A year before you died.
Because I put a bullet where I should have put a helmet,
Along with Honesty and Sincerity,
And all their friends and Virtues.
Rebirth is easy, it's living that gets tricky.
Reborn as a sinner:
Love me,
Hate what I do
Best.
What I do best
Is watch you fall to pieces
Limb from crushed bone limb,
And what I do best
Is write sad songs
That I hide away in a corner of my
Closet(ed mind).
When you die,
They remember you with flaws they had of their own.
They make it about them,
And their pain,
As though being a martyr
Could actually bring you back.
(As though a martyr
Could actually come back)
So call me Apathy,
That'll be my new name.
A lack of empathy
No pitying sympathy.
Because I cannot seem to make you realize,
I do not empathize
Nor will I ever sympathize
With you no-good
Nice guys.
I'm a bad guy
What can I say,
I'm the villain, the antagonist,
I was put here as a test--
I went wrong,
I went far beyond wrong,
I took a wrong turn onto the wrong path in the wrong forest
Where I just don't belong.
So goodbye for the night, and maybe the next few,
But remember my number not name, as only the living seem to do.
So just remember these words, from time to time:
I am a lack of the holy seven--
You see, in place and in honor, I make nine.
Jun 15, 2019
Jun 15, 2019 at 1:51 PM UTC
one more for Joni and the one who accuses me of
"owning the courage to care so blatantly."
<:>
accused of writing with blatant courage,
a 4 credit requirement for caring
blatant is a word of merger -
open obvious unsubtle and unashamed
and a dissembling misleading one!
it is all of these and yet can be a contradictory mask of
opposing, differing faces
my blatant is none of these
but appearance only
**** muses keep me coming back
to a particular lyric,
keeps seeking me out, so successfully, wherever I go,
I hear it
it’s invading my both sides now
the dizzy dancing way you feel
you think I have my own blatant courage, untrue!
so oft you mistook my dizzy dancing,
all fluff all humbug so obvious so ashamed,
a cover up, a most subtle cosmetic pretense of the truth -
of
no courage at all
and yet (they mock)
you do care...
just another of my peculiar
life’s illusions
(self-delusions)
I really don’t have blatant courage at all
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 9:18 AM UTC
Mandated this faux gremlin explorer
(alias Cliff Ford) donning reinforced
rubber baby buggy bumpers to dodge
any errant wild jaguar, ram, thunder bird,
bee in blue bonnet hood lamb, et cetera
and/or any cowl screen Fascia hissed
dee fender must be subject to an intense
hot grill, especially if grievous, ferocious,
egregious, deleterious threat to undermine
Democratic pillar, weltanschauung spoiler,
rocker, rims (sic) coarse sea cove dweller,
whose tired hubby capped, (re: proffering
a trim package) houses plenty of junk in
the trunk adorned with harried styled and
tailor made dust ruffle par excellent well
did assembly, who (if not consigned to a
crash test dummy existence), would present
an a door able latchkey cont hinge hint. Fuel
lush con tank cuirass culpable, deplorable,
and execrable fiendish human immigration
injustices (executed abhorrent auto de fe
incognito, nonetheless lock king figurative
gnarled horns with cognoscenti), where
innocent charges teary eyed. Like
a cracked glass, viz shatterproof wind
shield radiator, the plaintive inconsolable
crying babies alarmed Aunt Henna. Mass
media did radio this ******* tripped,
and trashed tragic travesty. No tuner then
atrocious, baseless, callous dirt deed done
dirt cheap, one loud speaker after another
took to the airwaves, and sundry tele
communications outlets. Sad doggone sonic
booms (representative of sub woofer)
soul fully bellowed forth broadcasting across
humungous flat screens appalling catastrophe
unfolding reminiscent of battery abuses
against scapegoats since time immemorial,
otherwise known as (ohm my dog) volt age.
I gauge how wealth (or lack thereof) constitutes
as distributor. Electronic timing controllers
(viv a vis the internet and/or virtual realty
simulates) function as ignition modus operandi
to communicate gross injustices renting asunder
heart wrenching agony engendering abysmal
leap into nothingness. Existence rendered moot
as despicable horrors inflicted upon deportees.
Thee footworn, forlorn foghorn troops (analogous
to stone temple pilots) unwittingly journey into
torturous labyrinth, herein monsters ******
suckling babes. A pained spotlight signals sense
sore re:us, nasty and brutal choking, that throttles
the psyches battered beyond thermostatic threshold
of tolerance. Now any Earthling with sense and sense
ability must heed this alarm and siren infringing
abominably primal tenets, ethos, credos aligning
power train, sans **** sapiens linkedin as
one organic entity.
Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 7:12 PM UTC
Baby, you're a liar!
You told me that it was real,
I thought real was forever,
But no!
Your love was real but weak,
I thought you were my peahen,
And myself your peacock.
But you loved just the bling,
The most shallow part of love,
You were never my dove.
Coz in the end you ditched me,
Chose over a peacock just a ****
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 12:23 AM UTC