"anthropomorphized" poems
What the hell is a katydid?
Is it near where the carotid is hid?
And, is there a reason we need
To know whatever Katy did?
Why does macaroni have an elbow?
This sounds to me a lot like a phony.
And how far back and forward does it go?
Really? Anthropomorphized macaroni?
What kind of person puts a bra on a car?
I mean, the entire idea is a bit bizarre,
One of the silliest I have heard of so far.
Does anyone know what automoboobies are?
Can people play poker with potato chips?
Maybe they’ll up the ante with avocado dip?
Then Vegas would not be such a wise trip.
Gives a new meaning to being ‘in the chips’.
Who gets to legally use a homophone?
And can anyone properly use it alone?
Since we no longer dial, why dial tone?
Some of this stuff if from the Twilight Zone.
Political parties don’t seem to be fun,
Not even for the lucky ones that won.
It must mean something that people run
But they look like something to run from.
Why would anybody put money into a kitty.
What is the matter that they have no pity?
After all, most kitties are way itty bitty.
So, stop putting money into a poor kitty!
And this putting on the dog stuff annoys.
It sounds like the game of bratty boys;
They finally get old enough to ignore toys
And play word games on a dog. Oh joy!
And what does it mean to horse around?
Is it the pantomime horse worn by clowns?
It can’t be the kind of horse one rides around?
That kind might trample a fool into the ground.
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 6:48 PM UTC
In nights of rest,
rest assured I will see you in all sunny tomorrows
So much solar power
feeds the earth,
feeds the soul,
incumbent in its given place,
We sail-pirouette around it
on a spherical hoop-dance
So volatile, a combustion hydrogen-cosmic-lantern
and a coalescing helium brew
Lash out your heated tongues
push flare waves to lick our living sphere,
concentrates on heated brows and scatters atoms and molecules
The upper push for earth-life and this mater Sun
is but a conservador wearing its blinding cosmic-girth
Made homage to, anthropomorphized in past primordial granduer, spot your ancient rays on earth's gyrating seasons,
from dawn to dusk so much the sun...
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 7:39 PM UTC
Now breathe.
and Remember:
joy =
Suffering which is not equal to Calm
= bliss
Thus the signature of harmony:
effortless dynamic stability
or
structured adaptability
a moving part
of a larger wondrous
Fractal:
the
anthropomorphized metaphor,
abstracted from sensing the form:
the One
which is Not.
Apr 2, 2012
Apr 2, 2012 at 7:50 AM UTC
Today crawled like a spider on a web with
thin, pointed legs like needles
in my skin, administered by a bad acupuncturist.
I find myself continually
continuing on an unmarked road
with headphones on my ears buzzing to the noise
of soft tin and electrical Umph and Ah; messin
with the thin little hairs on my scratchy head.
Today, I see the world spinning, replacing that
familiar light blue above me, a panorama of all
that I don’t reach out for, that I tell myself has
been stripped out of arm’s reach.
I sit by the tall tree and mope again and again,
hoping someone will pass by. Maybe I wish
someone would join me in this lonely forest,
more than I wish
I could leave.
Today, I end a poem like my eyelids,
with forceful and unconditional determination
and I wonder how heavy they will be when I rise
the next morning, weighed down by the force
of pain that has emerged, anthropomorphized,
from the depths of my body, my mind, my soul.
Weakness scares me more than death, because
it consumes me like a chill running through my bones
and suddenly I lose that all powerful
separation between you
and me.
Today, that separation sits as a knife in my chest.
Today, is not much different than many days.
Aug 30, 2010
Aug 30, 2010 at 9:24 PM UTC
There's a boy, or girl, or any living thing that you can relate to.
Maybe it's not even living
it's a stuff animal that you anthropomorphized
to become your best friend,
because everyday is spent glazing
the abstract of news articles.
What's special about a bestfriend
that doesn't rely on you for talking,
or even breathing.
You can actually be yourself,
instead of who they want you to be.
Man, if we were even more honest
I mean people...I mean subterraneans,
because let's be deep, only those
living underground, like me, are going to understand.
The ground is life
and I'm being buried beneath;
it's quite better than being on top.
I can't be anything;
relating to anyone isn't even worth reading
as the only language I've perfected
is the one communicated by my Rhino
and that's silence.
Oct 23, 2019
Oct 23, 2019 at 12:49 AM UTC