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Just me and a map on this little wood boat lost at sea
My view is nothing but the oceans serene beauty
I have no compass to direct me so I know I'm free
Left to wonder endlessly until my eyes get droopy

Thinking what is to come on this journey
I now realize the only one I can rely on is me
This boat is not sturdy and the waves can be very jerky
Teaching me that life has no guarantee

I envy the weather for being so moody
One second so peaceful and clear the next being so dark and whirly
Now understanding why mother nature isn't fluky
There are reasons for everything I believe that now very firmly
Safana Jul 2020
It's beautiful,
Your days are beautiful,
Beautiful as you are!
Beautiful than a Juliet rose 🌹,
A rose flower of love,
Your beauties are like
Abba and Meemi.
Your ages, are 1 + 1

Twice in halves
Twins, are twice
I wish you
fluky birthday, and
to pass your obstacles
with flying colors.

May your breath
blow the candle

The royal twins

Happy Birthday
Maimunat and Hajarat
Twins daughters of
Mr. and Mrs.
Umar Faroukh Abdullahi
(DANLASAN)
My sisters' twins Daughters,
Happy Birthday
🎂🎂
🥀🥀
Scarlette Oct 2014
Into my fathers’ arms safe
from harm
In a place far away no moonshine
in his hand
Running along a beach
somewhere on white-golden sand
No shouting, swearing or
blowing to the head
At a table where I will be fed
No more hunger no more pain
all is well
Sitting at a warm fire stories
we tell
Well away from my living hell
Ironed clothes and shoes on
my feet
Into a bed with fluky white
sheets
uncluttered and cosy not afraid to
sleep
Nobody kicked out to walk the
streets
Dry bed in the morning what a
delight
Going to school with a smile on
my face
Parents watching you in sports
and plays
Shouting
encouragement
making you proud
Not to be outside the
fashionable crowd
but things are not what they
always seem
What do you expect in a strange land hounded with reality?
This is not reality; it is only a
childhood dream
most instances when i initially seat
     myself priming creative literary juices to flow,
     an unspecified number hours elapse
     before that eureka i.e. Jackie Oh

     revelation transpires
     witnessing, this scruffy, prickly,
     and madly scratching itchy hairs
     dotting chinny chin chin of this hobo

hook huns hitters hymns elf
     tubby a generic home
     er run (hitting) mill
     (on the floss sing false teeth)
     common everyday fluky,
     nippy, nap noopy Joe,
whence upon gestation ova hen chic idea

     (Egg heads, merely
     scrambled random thought fragments
     at that stage) scrunching brow
     activates laser focus,
     a scattershot burst of tangential thread populate

     formerly barren tabula rasa,
     sans, Lenovo external screen
once again defying (tomb me
     akin to some eternal mystery),
     trucked since time immemorial

     inexplicable, that sudden ignition
     asper cerebral automatic
     catalytic converter kickstarter
     (hmm...perhaps cogs and gears
     housed within medulla oblongata)

     foster fecund fertilization,
     an inexplicable phenomena, I dune hot know
explanation, but upon advent
     whence, wispy vague undefinable inchoate

     coalesce analogous to genesis of animal new life
     when there appears just the merest hint
     of fledgling wispy notions strive similar
     to ***** cells fervently whipsawing vis a vis,

     via flagellation motility misfits
     and false starts before this crotchety scribe
     mollycoddles crux of embryonic idea
     congeals, expresses, and forms

     grandiose manifest destiny
     mentioned above i.e. **
     Lee Judas Priest remaining catharsis
     seems like a versatile

     self determining tour de force
     whereat fingers of the lefthand
     move of their own volition spilling forth poe
whet tree once expended leaves (of grass)
     finds me Walt sing whit man nigh hick cull
     tickled pink with a soft after glow.
Joy Nov 2019
I woke up in the pocket
of my dark blue duffle coat.
The one which smells of cinnamon,
with the shiny metal knobs.

I woke up in the pocket
of my dark blue duffle coat.
I was the size of Thumbelina,
barely grander than a toad.

I woke up in the pocket
of my dark blue duffle coat
in a pitch black woolen warmth.
(All my raincoats should take note.)

I woke up in the pocket
of my dark blue duffle coat
where I fiddled with the coins
and the keys and washed out bank notes.

I woke up in the pocket
of my dark blue duffle coat
and the day was such a thrill
with its fluky lazy stroll.

I woke up in the pocket
of my dark blue duffle coat
where I felt small again.
Immaturity - my poison's antidote.
Courtesy of Marx (albeit Zeppo,
Harpo, Groucho, and Chico), whose
acts (along Seuss iz Zacks Fifth
Avenue) brought generations of
laughter to Vaudeville, and then
the Silver Screen adlibbed, linkedin,
and ransacked skits zoid material
Bing very loosely based on his best
known writings (Oh *** Yet Of The

Masses) by Karl Marx (no relation
to Bros Grin), and Friedrich Engels
whar they **** instrumental qua
Cingular Capitalone political philosophy
paradigm as spit, and (shoe) shining,
seducing, and salivating players trans

formed Msn Netzero Linkedin Petsmart
Aleck outlook and pinterest, when their
collective insight did cents how masses
(i.e. bourgeois) took a rakish (otherwise)
up standing Norwegian bachelor farmer
for comic relief to break monotony of
agrarian obligations, and serve up one

heaping healthy portion per production,
sans whatever whims would crop
up by infusing thespian showdown
incorporating commune nic cache shun
(disproportionate) app peals studded terrain
with locked havens avast re shtetl ment.

Hoi Polloi re: common folk in sore need
of distraction and belief in a brighter side
of life, than saliva dehydrating brute nose
to the grindstone pathetic existence, yoked
as oxen to plows, where plodding tattered

shod feet scraped a pencil thin line, whence,
seeds sprinkled into futile ruts forecast angry
birds to shutterfly, twittering like bada$$
beastie boys Dharma bumming while On
The Tyellow Brick Road.

Inn ascent bystanders avian avatars initially
supposedly sprung from ergot, mushroom
and/or **** spores, whereas the myth of
one mortal idol (Matthew Scott Harris) did
rival Vladimir Ilich (frequently corrupted into

I gotta n itch) Lenin, where alien archeologists
from outer limits of the twilight zone unearthed
(com) bust stubble rubble yes likeness of Guy
Richie Rich Noir, whose couture, the best skid
row wardrobe.

He sported longish wavy (fluffy when washed
once every fort McHenry night), which character
wrist ticks evoked Chaplinesque down on his
luck Dickensian doddering dude, who cast an

immediate vagabond er dishabille, he happened
to be plenti none the poorer and ranked near
top Facebook listing of Forbes Plenty Of Fish
list, and whose trivial pursuit with flickr ring
idea to GoLong.

As a poet by fashioning his adversity into discord
ant clumps of clichés, facsimiles, idiomatic limply
mixed metaphors in a per verse manner reflecting a
discombobulated egghead delivered an ova night
fashionable fame, though syrup prize zing lee met
with profound success, and bore fruit of the loom

(one of his countless “FAKE” offspring’s begotten
unbeknownst to him iz this schlepper) constitutes
this blimey dorky and fluky guy, whose weakness
when communicating about extemporaneously usually
leaves the reader like totally tubularly confused like
ha cool and totally tubularly groovy man.
Wk kortas Nov 2020
i.

There isn't much light when you're inside,
Or at least in terms of natural light,
And if you're looking for a star to guide you
Through your thirty days, you're even more out of luck
Than you were getting here in the first place,
(In my case appropriating--almost-- a turkey breast
The Saturday after Thanksgiving,
Figuring no tired, overworked checkout girl
Would ever miss it; **** poor luck, nothing more)
The windows too narrow to climb out,
Too high to smash in anger or frustration.
Still, you can catch a bit of the outside world
The sky (this once, at least) more blue
Than mid-December has any right being
In this grubby, hardscrabble corner of northwest P-A,
***** old lake to the west,
Endless logged-out hills to the east,
Never-quite-boomed mill towns due south,
Up north Indian land where bootleggers and number-runners
Holed up once upon a time, the Senecas
Now having gone legit, Beach Boys and Barbara Mandrell
Fronting shell games which bear the Feds' seal of approval.
This is the Galilee to which I shortly return.

ii.

Time gets syrupy in the hole, moving slowly, lazily,
Fighting the laws of Newton and Einstein at every turn,
And when the ******* about lawyers,
The oft-repeated and off-key done-me-wrong songs
And respectful if somewhat impatient
Supplications to Jesus for speedy deliverance
Are no longer sufficient distraction,
A man begins to think and remember.
I met Easy Terry E. (so he called himself)
In the city lockup in Troy, or maybe it was Schenectady
(I have, after all, mosied up and down the Eastern Seaboard,
On both sides of the bars)
And let me tell you, for the only time in my born days
I wished these small-city holding cells had solitary,
As Terry E. not only had a chalkboard-scrape falsetto
Which constituted aggravated assault on the eardrums,
But also a predilection for non-stop yammering
About nothing and everything, punctuating his blather
With frequent high-pitched insistence
That he was a hermaphrodite,
And he would frequently taunt the guards by yowling
Baby, I got a lady's equipment down here.
Maybe you want to strip search me, honey
.
(Such high spirits led to an inevitable outcome;
I heard a jailer up in Utica decided to quiet him down
By sticking Terry's head in a toilet, the swirlie
Ending up a minute or two longer than was advisable)
But I had been able to more or less ignore him,
As to that point he'd concentrated on ******* off
Everyone in the cells with the exception of me,
But my turn came soon enough
Oh, don't worry Peter, darling, I know your type.
Different, smarter than the rest of us

He all but sang in  my direction.
Mebbe so, I grumbled, just a few fluky bad breaks
Here and there, that's all
.
Terry laughed and clapped his hands,
Poor sweet thing, a victim of that old lousy karma.
There was a philosopher
…
And he stopped for a moment,
Seemingly trying to pick a name from the air
(Not that he could see anything floating in front of him,
As he wore horn-rims with lenses as thick and opaque
As the headlights of a '72 Skylark.)
So you're just taking a break here until your luck turns, mmm?
I laid back against the wall,
Hands behind my head and grinned.
Yep, I replied, things are due and then some
To start going my way
.
Terry giggled once more, Well, you've got things
All figured out then!
Good, evil, right, wrong--just snapshots of the roulette wheel
In some infinitesimal sliver of time, and all we can do
Is put our chips down and hope the croupier is playing it straight.
Well, now that you've finally figured all that out,
I suspect you won't see the wrong side of the bars again
.
And with that he turned his back on me,
Paying me no mind whatsoever
Until they turned me loose the next morning
With the stern admonishment
To trouble the good citizens of the Capitol District no more,
And as I think back to that moment,
I suspect he may not have been telling the whole truth
As he saw it.

iii.

And so I will be released from this small cell
In this small red-brick building
In the midst of this equally small red-bricked town,
And I will bypass the bars
With their potential for a cheap hustle
And various types and flavors of low-hanging fruit,
And I will dispense with a seat on some sad Trailways bus,
Seeking a ride (thumb hopefully, defiantly
Pointing upward to the sky)
On the old Grand Army Highway,
Then north on the Buffalo Road
And I will clamber down the embankment
To the Kinzua Dam and, shedding socks, shoes, and clothing,
And hang the cold,
I shall wade into the water, acclimating ankles and washing feet,
The dive headlong under the water's surface
To arise cold, cleansed, ready to move onward.
Hung on a brick wall the mummy looks spooky
its Halloween time and her timing is fluky
she prowls down the lane committing mutiny
hostile as a devil she breathes foul frumenty

Dried up like an old prune she flies like a goon
hovering over the kids that live in Saskatoon
with a menacing laugh she fills them with doom
as they run to hide they leave plenty of room

But oh how she knows where the children go
with their looby loo ways spilling candy intoe
she's been well preserved and she's full of woe
angry as a mad witch, who just stubbed a toe

Better close that door and lock it twice
she's mad as a hornet and not very nice
******* on brains is her only device
this mummy from Sask, never knocks thrice.
Of My (Lenovo External) Computer Screen

Within mere nanoseconds,
     (or less than an instagram ming
     kickstarter reddit snap,
     chat ting shutter
     fly), this bopeep
awakens (i.e. ascends) beep
ping from, a pseudo steep
descent transcendental

     restorative meditation,
     (though there be
     unREM burr hubble
     dream times re:
     viz zit ting me
     "Max C. Mum" security creep
right after headroom gets
     shut-eye as

     requisite upkeep
whereat, I still feel fluky,
     *****, and yucky,
     sans like the Cisco kid)
     ready to be
     tossed on scrapheap,
and wanna get
     right back asleep

this, no matter
e'en if temporarily
     feel rested, and cheap
per after doze'n
     (ala bright tailed, sheep
     push, and bushy eyed),
     primed to leap,
over historically

     fattened dustheap,
nonetheless this ole baby
     boomer purportedly reap
aired awakens from deep
slumber, yet suddenly without
     warning internal forces
     overpowering, qua in
     tense gravitational pull

     immediately pulling slip
     ping vacuuming
     suction yanking me (a dude
dill ling Yankee) helplessly,
     irresistibly back into zzz
     top land of Honah Lee
     courtesy of Sleepy's
     easy chair holy jeep

pers, analogous to Uriah Heap,
when clear out the blue...
(screen of death), what should
     appear without a clue,
but hypersomnia (excessive daytime
     sleepiness) heavy as an Emu
pursuing with full force
     like gang (lion) busters goo

goo wing nsync with
     Doctor Zeus then stopping,
     cuz Horton hears a hoo
cryptic message loo
wuss lee translated
     (by Alaska Natives
     holed up in their igloo)
essentially means view

pixels will unwittingly woo
spell bind and forever bind you
to a flickr ring cursor
and aux com1 (an ex port)
whatsapp pining
to the human zoo.
Methinks hmm, perhaps
I admittedly self plagiarize and quite aware
aforementioned amalgamated, conglomerated,
fabricated, jerry rigged, and organized
eye gripping titled
poem already aired a year plus ago,
though revisiting said theme
downplayed now as thoughts blare,

though similarly filched content
(pertaining to other literary endeavors)
invariably glommed electronically
(digitally remastered and remixed),
nevertheless gobbledygook enigmatically
jerkily, and quirkily communicated,
sans trademark Pi Seine (seen) fishtail career
as applies to uber secreted questions.

This chap challenges himself,
an immense task I dare
unleash unbounded kickstarting euphoria
within psychic calm and weal
with a healthy dose of logorrhea
scowl unintentionally anonymous reader
mine re: noun verbosity doth ensnare
though oft times obfuscation veils merely

a black hole sun (son) prominence
asthma faux eminence amber gris
long ago didst flare
aware if chance encounter
in a dark alley coal less sing
burning eyes fiercely glare
yet, an explanation
would be proffered to hear.

Most instances when I initially seat
myself priming creative literary juices to flow,
an unspecified number hours elapse
before that eureka i.e. Jackie Oh
NASA hiss (Onassis) revelation transpires
witnessing, this scruffy, prickly, grow
tusk long haired woolly creature
out malm mouth drool dripping
trademark characteristic viz
pencil neck geek
madly scratching itchy hairs

dotting chinny chin chin of
garden variety generic hobo
hook huns hitters hymns elf
tubby frank and ernest poet;
home body (nowhere man);
beetle browed fool on the hill;
common everyday fluky,
nippy, nap noopy common Joe,
just biden his time,
whence upon gestation ova hen chic idea
comes home to stir the roost.

(Hard boiled eggheads merely
scrambled random thought fragments
at that stage) scrunching brow
activates laser focus,
a scattershot burst
of tangential threads populate
formerly barren tabula rasa,
sans, Lenovo external screen
once again defying (tomb me
akin to some eternal mystery),

trucked since time immemorial
inexplicable, that sudden ignition
asper cerebral automatic
catalytic converter kickstarter
(hmm...perhaps cogs and gears
housed within medulla oblongata)
foster fecund fertilization,
an inexplicable phenomena, I dune hot know
explanation, but upon advent
whence, wispy vague undefinable inchoate

coalesce analogous to genesis of animal new life
when there appears just the merest hint
of fledgling wispy notions strive similar
to ***** cells fervently whipsawing vis a vis,
via flagellation motility misfits
and false starts before this crotchety scribe
mollycoddles crux of embryonic idea
congeals, expresses, and forms
grandiose manifest destiny
mentioned above i.e. ***

Lee Judas Priest remaining catharsis
seems like a versatile
self determining Motorhead
(ace of spades) tour de force,
whereat fingers of the left hand
move of their own volition spilling forth poe
whet tree once expanded Leaves (of Grass)
finds me Waltzing Whitman nigh hick cull
tickled pink with a soft after glow.

This penchant spurring confabulation
explaining (feebly) zest
yours truly experiences
expatiating honest to dog ness
figuratively go win west
hoard (word) ** seeking
mine own mother lode acquired,
via verse a tile material undergoing
electric kool aid acid test
incorporating rigorous (mortise
and tenon constructed) adverbial quest
which wondrous, whirled,

and webbed woven semicolon aided nest
reinforced with double entendre
tongue in cheek jest,
whereby multiple interpretations
(ala mode literary splotchy Rorschach test)
tenants in common beau geste
ma bell heavable own home spun faux
Cambridge Analytica
Jimmy Crack corn and I don't care
gimcrackery defaced facebook best
bite, with absolute zero
data snatched aye evasively attest.
Methinks hmm, perhaps
aforementioned conglomerated eye gripping titled,
poem already aired
though revisiting said theme
downplayed as thoughts blare
though similar content
invariably communicated,
sans trademark Pi Seine fishtail career
as applies to other questions.

This chap asks himself,
an immense task I dare
unleash unbounded kickstarting euphoria
within psychic calm and weal
with a healthy dose of logorrhea
scowl unintentionally reader
mine re: noun verbosity doth ensnare
though oft times obfuscation veils merely

a black hole sun (son) prominence
asthma faux eminence amber gris
long ago didst flare
aware if chance encounter
in a dark alley coal less sing
burning eyes fiercely glare
yet, an explanation
would be proffered to hear.

Most instances when I initially seat
myself priming creative literary juices to flow,
an unspecified number hours elapse
before that eureka i.e. Jackie Oh
NASA hiss revelation transpires
witnessing, this scruffy, prickly,
and madly scratching itchy hairs
dotting chinny chin chin of this hobo

hook huns hitters hymns elf
tubby a generic home
er run (hitting) mill
(on the floss sing false teeth)
common everyday fluky,
nippy, nap noopy common Joe,
just biden his time,
whence upon gestation ova hen chic idea

(Hard boiled eggheads merely
scrambled random thought fragments
at that stage) scrunching brow
activates laser focus,
a scattershot burst
of tangential thread populate
formerly barren tabula rasa,
sans, Lenovo external screen
once again defying (tomb me
akin to some eternal mystery),
trucked since time immemorial

inexplicable, that sudden ignition
asper cerebral automatic
catalytic converter kickstarter
(hmm...perhaps cogs and gears
housed within medulla oblongata)
foster fecund fertilization,
an inexplicable phenomena, I dune hot know
explanation, but upon advent
whence, wispy vague undefinable inchoate

coalesce analogous to genesis of animal new life
when there appears just the merest hint
of fledgling wispy notions strive similar
to ***** cells fervently whipsawing vis a vis,
via flagellation motility misfits
and false starts before this crotchety scribe
mollycoddles crux of embryonic idea
congeals, expresses, and forms
grandiose manifest destiny
mentioned above i.e. **
Lee Judas Priest remaining catharsis
seems like a versatile

self determining Motorhead tour de force,
whereat fingers of the left hand
move of their own volition spilling forth poe
whet tree once expanded leaves (of grass)
finds me Waltzing whitman nigh hick cull
tickled pink with a soft after glow.

This penchant spurring confabulation
explaining (feebly) zest
yours truly experiences
expatiating honest to dog ness
figuratively go win west
hoard ** seeking
mine own mother lode acquired,
via verse a tile material undergoing
electric kool aid acid test
incorporating rigorous (mortise
and tenon constructed) adverbial quest
which wondrous, whirled,

and webbed woven semicolon aided nest
reinforced with double entendre
tongue in cheek jest,
whereby multiple interpretations
(ala mode literary splotchy Rorschach test)
tenants in common beau geste
ma own home spun faux
Cambridge Analytica
Jimmy Crack corn and I don't care
gimcrackery defaced facebook best
bite, with absolute zero
data snatched aye evasively attest.
No explanation why
trade marked self made
     unsheathed sword didst try
to wreak havoc, sans
     deep hurtful (severe) stabs,

     no solution to
     NON internal Quoi
yet, decades long inconsolable tears
inflicted toward self,
     and family I cannot dee nigh

     (of origin plus deux offspring
     begat), oh my
whereat I clamped "hands"
over figurative "ears" obliviously,
    and/or faintly aware

     at times withholding
     compassion, no lie
mercilessly depriving affection
     from this fluky, kooky,
     and quirky guy,

albeit the sole son
     emotionally estranged
     from his late mama, and
     octogenarian widower papa, who I
     rarely ever said "hi,"

when living under their roof
     (at 324 Level Road,
     long since demolished)
never inquired, nor
     rarely ever acknowledged

     appreciation (on a
     regular basis), deep pry
ving expressing care and concerned,
     whether kinfolk lived or didst die
     (strong possibility linked thy

aver diagnosed with
     schizoid personality disorder)
nope...not even
     hugging me mum,
     (whose desperate non
    
     verbal plea ignored)
     days before she passed away,
now as a father, (whose eldest
     well on her way
     to promising future)

     her rebuffed overtures stung
     at paternal resolution,
     until this day, when
     a singular sentence
     she emailed as sent

     ting genuine permission
     for her to glimpse
     a poignant poem,
perchance inducing my loving cry!
Ryan O'Leary May 2020
There is a rumour going
around that a brown crow
has been seen in the cemetery.

Three times a week I walk
through the graveyard on my
way to the Supermarket.

(Where, oddly enough, I am
buying day old bread to feed
them)

So, I put it down to an Irish
yarn, a Paddy Porky not to
be taken too seriously.

But guess what, along with
Stumpy, the one legged crow,
there he was in the garden.

A freak of nature, a mottled
right wing, the coffee king,
rogue raven, fluky feather.

Ps.

No photo as yet.

— The End —