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Zero the Lyric Feb 2013
Galaxies, solar satellites, the very Earth and its plates.
Whatever matter spins the reality, each one rotates.
Every unique universe growing its own ebb and flow,
Same as an ocean shall pummel shores then pull undertow.
When is the time? Are you a counter of clockwork?

Backwater cementing a new variant of tributary,
Friends become fish in this river of machinery.
The roiling rubber current proves to combust with currency.
Success succumbs to numbers as the economist counts me.
When is the time? Are you a counter of clockwork?

Gingko trees employed rats until society's reaction
Assimilated this lineage and reset its traction.
A different dispersal mechanism does not merit lament,
The managed are mute within the worker's woeful testament.
When is the time? Are you a counter of clockwork?

Sometimes a quest of faith begets a set from a cartomancer,
What good would it do to bribe the tarot and fake her answer?
For doctrine to deprive a man of god's hero in himself,
To trial and tribute his death to ascend on our caste shelf.
When is the time? Are you a counter of clockwork?

Your cards at hand, as is any fact of fortune, are from you.
All around are landmarks to map your light, vibration, and hue.
A presence is an action amongst quintessential stage props,
Weathered roles rehearse their sonorous loves watching ripples drop.
When is the time? Are you a counter of clockwork?

Turbid fury has no footholds on the great movement in your mind,
Gears that we hear were once a pursuit to prosper as mankind.
To disarm the victim's rights and loosen all nooses may seem odd,
Yet Devil deviates design and is forgiven by God.
When is the time? Are you a counter of clockwork?

Cities yearn to scrape skies built on products at the world's splendor.
Though trinkets become trite as we glorify a greedy vendor.
How could one commend such a clear farce for the multitude?
Selling milk to children's bones while our livestock store false fortitude.
When is the time? Are you a counter of clockwork?

Lifespans expand within this ****** twilight of barbarism.
History obscures so we light turned pages with euphemism.
Often forgotten is that our memory is amorphous,
Generating our boldest fears and cheers to those beyond us.
When its the time? Are you a counter of clockwork?

Pessimism or optimism; are not rivals of ones structure
Secular submission denies despair's innate rupture
It is built by the hopeful to share love after given grace
To construct a profound unity above pride's titled race
When is the time? Are you a counter of clockwork?

We are taught to worry for unruly folk until weary.
Doctors like leaders treat symptoms not seeing sickness clearly.
They stress the distressed to disseminate imminent spines,
Shattering that last vestige of a will searching between lines.
When is the time? Are you a counter of clockwork?

The commandments should have demanded there always be one more,
As truth evolves in jollies or follies, being rich or poor.
Always a witness to your lemons that could squeeze a profit.
Limits can be more than second hands surpassing the minute.
When is the time? Are you a counter of clockwork?

Thus old cogs and smog of our familiar faculties rest
On the zealous peals of those who know at the hour of our best.
It is not easy to lift volition past sadness so steep.
As each day would raise a mile, we may grow to smile when we sleep
Now is the time, are you a counter or clockwise?
Sarina Jun 2013
On the way back to my rural house, I thought about goodbye
and how you just left as a deer crossing the
highway. I could do that now –
I have a paycheck, I do not need my parents to sign
for us to marry or be taken off of birth control so we can have babies.
My feet no longer wobble when I climb into a train car.

These rainy nights are like gingko supplements
because now I can remember everything about you and I.

Your too-thin-for-winter pajamas on the carpet, your nonchalant
manner of breaking my heart. I knew
then to be a detective: my mission to abort goodbyes
just to forgive you for old hurts and

whatever else
I may find.

Through my veins runs cranberry juice, red as blood
frozen over from the
winter of mine that you ruined. It is June and you are still sorry for
what you did, it is June and now I am sorry, too.
Sadness made my ribcage sprout into a ripened peach tree –
cut them open, nothing’s inside. We are all runaways.
tread Nov 2012
I heard you whispering through the empty door-frame
Seeking sleep from your desired lover, unchanged and the same
the twilight years of life, are they anything like the twilight zone?
Perhaps the alzheimers leads to a quantum close
and
mirrors float like seperated identities, I let the spirit into me
Sentient flow comes with a pill of Gingko biloba
The oval Mandala SWEEPS me up!
Back in the circle of the SANSKIRT gumption
Carved like a pumpkin, that's sumthin if you're thumpin
Loud
Loud
Loud enough.
Anne M Dec 2020
the scalloped skirts
of the biloba ballerinas
are furling while green
still paints the stems
of the stubborn soloists.

the maidenhair corps de ballet
flies from the wings
tutus golden to match the winter light.
curtains open on the new season.
the sidewalk audience stands

in ovation
and continues home.
With scrunched and bushy furrowed brow
   I ponder precise circumstances  
   when consciousness got born
Tracing back lineage of self,
   an arbitrary individual unpredictable as the Dow
   Reckoning series of events
   sustained life similar to sowing seed of corn

Ruminating fragile nascent organisms
   at mercy of fate flourished, and how
   Taxing me mind asper each score
   composed bards to toot their own horn
Aware just slightest off beat fluke

   determined from millennia ago or now
   That particular organism,
   whether one celled entity
   or beings that can mourn,
The loss of kindred members –

   food for thought since pledging marital vow
   this poet, whose presence
   a fluke of circumstances possibly torn
At any point in distant past
   rendering me absent unable to utter wow

At what crapshoot of circumstances
   wrought Matthew Scott Harris to be
   Cognizant of genealogy
   wove World Wide Web
   following threads back in time

Albeit not more than a couple generations –
   whereby emigrants did flee
   From supposed eastern European swath
   in general finding reason to rhyme

For no reason, just as other creatures
   great or small occupy themselves with glee
   Or just groveling along at
   bare ***** knuckle existence without a dime

Less apt to own luxury how **** sapiens
   purportedly evolved from mon-key
   Whereby harsh ill fate tempts them
   into life of crime
When perhaps riches with kingly figures
   loomed large in family tree

Branching back in the day
   Glorious personalities
   populated genealogy to boot
Twisting tortured destiny somewhere
   in one direction along the killer highway

   Setting stage for rags,
   when august ancestry buried in loot
Yet tis quite frivolous
   bemoaning present woes or even pray

   To win lottery turning attention
   how our ancestral gingko or newt
Dwelt in rich primordial egg drop soup
   wantonly in massive bay

   Inexorably transformed
   (by dint of dice throw) per flora to take root
As well fauna to mutate into species
   and genus on land to assay

Giving rise to variety to an assortment
   of animals and plants
And this one speck of flotsam
   in particular owns a passion for contra dance

Whereby others –
   from massive beasts to self taught amazing ants
Scurry hither and yon to and fro perhaps  
   contemplating genetic grants
To be alive for mere blink of an eye
   all due (in my view) to chance.
lirau Jan 2018
there is an old man standing
at the pole on the train
he is cackling to himself and
tossing feet around

it's at times like this
that i wish i were invisible
playing dead to the world
living mountain

hillsides growing gingko and pine
my stones rubbed smooth
by the murky water
translucent with memories.
quick idea i had
With scrunched and bushy furrowed brow
   I often ponder the precise circumstances
   that any thing 2 be born this way
   as a poker face from eat n2 much dog chow
Tracing back lineage of self or
   arbitrary individual unpredictable as the Dow
   Reckoning a series of events sustained life
   similar to sowing seed of corn.
---------------------------------------------------------
R­uminating fragile nascent organism
   at mercy of fate flourished and how
   Taxing me mind how each score
   composed 4 each 2 toot their own horn
Aware that just the slightest off beat fluke
   determined from millennia ago or now
   That particular organism –
   whether one celled entity
   or beings that can mourn
The loss of kindred members –
   food for thought 4 able pledge marital vow
   Like this poet, whose presence
   a mere fluke of circumstances possibly torn
At any point in the distant past
   rendering me absent hence unable
   2 blubber only a barely audible guttural wow
---------------------------------------------------------
At what crapshoot of circumstances
   wrought Matthew Scott Harris 2 be
   Cognizant of self and the World Wide Web
   or follow threads back in time
Albeit not more than a couple generations –
   whereby emigrants did flee
   From supposed eastern European swath
   in general finding you to rhyme

For no reason, just as other creatures
   great or small occupy themselves with glee
    Or just groveling along at bare *****
   knuckle existence without a dime
Less apt 2 own luxury of how **** sapiens
   purportedly evolved from mon-key
   Whereby harsh ill fate tempts them
   into life of bad romance n crime
When perhaps riches with kingly figures
   loomed large in their family tree
---------------------------------------------------------
Br­anching off way back when in the day
   Glorious personalities pop
   yule 8 ted genealogy 2 boot
Twisting a tortured destiny some
   where along the way
   Setting stage 4 rags when
   once august ancestry buried in loot
Yet tis quite frivolous to bemoan
   present woes or even pray
   To win lottery turning attention
   2 how like our ancestral gingko
   or starring sally meander newt
Dwelling in rich primordial egg drop soup
   wantonly in massive e bay
   Inexorably transformed (by dint
   of random how an drew
   dice did throw) per flora 2 take root
As well fauna 2 mutate in2 species
   and genus on land 2 assay
---------------------------------------------------------
G­iving rise 2 variety and assortment
   of animals and plants
And this one speck of flotsam in particular
   owns a passion 4 hands 2 contra dance
Whereby others – from massive beasts
   to self taught amazing ants crying
   against the depredation of uncle sam
Scurry hither and yon 2 and fro
   perhaps also contemplating genetic grants
To be alive 4 a mere blink of an eye
   all due (in my view) 2 chance.
Hannah Dec 3
I spent my 20th birthday in a petrified forest
It meant nothing and I sweat very much

I wonder how it feels to be petrified, how it feels for
Nature to memorialize you,

Laid to rest until coal-covered hands unearth you
Gingko and sassafras and yew feel the sun’s aged, dotted hands caress all over

This is how it feels.
A petroglyph carved from ancient basalt

And my dad carrying our dog on his shoulders.
15.5 million years of layered rock and

Worrying about the size of my legs next to yours.
Ice age floods exposed crystalized bark and

You wipe the **** off your shoe and we drive some more.
a sixty four year old married bloke
born January 13th, mcmlix
under Capricorn sign in general,
and January 13th in particular
who dons online personage
with custom (think
swiftly tailored harried styled)
made poetic raiment cloak.

With my scrunched  
and bushy furrowed brow
I often ponder precise circumstances
that linkedin yours truly to be born
tracing back lineage of self
or arbitrary individual
unpredictable as the dow
reckoning a series of events
sustained life similar
to sowing seed of corn

ruminating fragile nascent organism
at the mercy of fate flourished and how
taxing me mind how each score
composed for each
to toot their own horn
aware that just slightest
off beat fluke determined
from millennia ago or now
that particular organism –
whether one celled entity

or beings that can mourn
the loss of kindred members –
food for thought
for able bodied/minded bard,
who pledged marital vow
like this poet, whose presence
a mere fluke of circumstances possibly torn
at any point in distant past
rendering me absent,
and hence unable to utter wow
evincing expression care worn.

At what crap shoot of circumstances
wrought Matthew Scott Harris to be
cognizant of the self
and world wide web
or follow threads back in time,
albeit not more than
a couple generations –
whereby emigrants did flee
from supposed Eastern European swath
in general finding thyself to rhyme
for no reason,  just as other creatures
great or small occupy themselves with glee

or just groveling along
at bare ***** knuckle existence
without a dime
less apt to own luxury  
how **** sapiens
purportedly evolved from monkey,
whereby harsh ill fate
tempts them into life of crime,
when perhaps riches
with kingly figures
loomed large in their family tree
begat courtesy making whoopie.

A genealogical limb
branching off way back
when back in the day
glorious personalities
populated genealogy to boot
twisting a tortured destiny
somewhere o'er the rainbow
along Yellow Brick Road way
setting stage for rags when
once August ancestry buried in loot
yet tis quite frivolous
to bemoan present woes or even pray
to win lottery turning attention
to how like our ancestral gingko

or Geico gecko newt
dwelling in rich primordial
egg drop soup
wantonly in massive bay
inexorably transformed
(by dint of dice throw)
per flora to take root
as well fauna to mutate
into species and genus
trumpeting horns heard
signaling Santa Claus
in his trademark red suit
on land to assay.

Punctuated equilibrium
first proposed by
and Niles Eldredge in 1972
gave rise to variety
to an assortment of animals and plants
perhaps also contemplating genetic grants
this one speck of flotsam
in particular owned
a passion for contra dance,
whereby others from massive beasts
to microscopic organisms
scurry hither and yon to and fro
essentially to be alive for lifetime,
nevertheless a mere blink of an eye
all due (in my view) to chance
to self taught amazing uncles and aunts.
born January 13th, mcmlix
under Capricorn sign.

With my scrunched  
and bushy furrowed brow
I often ponder precise circumstances
that linkedin yours truly to be born
tracing back lineage of self
or arbitrary individual
unpredictable as the dow
reckoning a series of events
sustained life similar
to sowing seed of corn

ruminating fragile nascent organism
at the mercy of fate flourished and how
taxing me mind how each score
composed for each
to toot their own horn
aware that just slightest
off beat fluke determined
from millennia ago or now
that particular organism –
whether one celled entity

or beings that can mourn
the loss of kindred members –
food for thought
for able pledge marital vow
like this poet, whose presence
a mere fluke of circumstances possibly torn
at any point in distant past
rendering me absent,
and hence unable to utter wow
evincing expression care worn.

At what crap shoot of circumstances
wrought Matthew Scott Harris to be
cognizant of the self
and world wide web
or follow threads back in time,
albeit not more than
a couple generations –
whereby emigrants did flee
from supposed Eastern European swath
in general finding thyself to rhyme
for no reason,  just as other creatures
great or small occupy themselves with glee

or just groveling along
at bare ***** knuckle existence
without a dime
less apt to own luxury  
how **** sapiens
purportedly evolved from monkey,
whereby harsh ill fate
tempts them into life of crime,
when perhaps riches
with kingly figures
loomed large in their family tree
begat courtesy making whoopie.

A genealogical limb
branching off way back
when back in the day
glorious personalities
populated genealogy to boot
twisting a tortured destiny
somewhere o'er the rainbow
along Yellow Brick Road way
setting stage for rags when
once August ancestry buried in loot
yet tis quite frivolous
to bemoan present woes or even pray
to win lottery turning attention
to how like our ancestral gingko

or Geiko gekko newt
dwelling in rich primordial
egg drop soup
wantonly in massive bay
inexorably transformed
(by dint of dice throw)
per flora to take root
as well fauna to mutate
into species and genus
trumpeting horns heard
signaling Santa Claus
in his trademark red suit
on land to assay.

Punctuated equilibrium
first proposed by
and Niles Eldredge in 1972
gave rise to variety
to an assortment of animals and plants
perhaps also contemplating genetic grants
this one speck of flotsam
in particular owned
a passion for contra dance,
whereby others from massive beasts
to microscopic organisms
scurry hither and yon to and fro
essentially to be alive for lifetime,
nevertheless a mere blink of an eye
all due (in my view) to chance
to self taught amazing uncles and aunts.
With my scrunched
and bushy furrowed brow
I often ponder
the precise circumstances
that any thing to be born
tracing back lineage of self
or arbitrary individual
unpredictable as the dow
reckoning a series of events
sustained life similar

to sowing seed of corn
ruminating fragile nascent organism
at the mercy of fate flourished and how
taxing me mind how each score
composed for each
to toot their own horn
aware that just the slightest
off beat fluke determined
from millennia ago or now
that particular organism –

whether one celled entity
or beings that can mourn
the loss of kindred members –
food for thought
for one able to pledge marital vow
like this poet, whose presence
a mere fluke
of circumstances possibly torn
at any point in the distant past
rendering me absent
and hence unable to utter wow

At what crapshoot
of circumstances wrought
Matthew Scott Harris to be
cognizant of the self
and the world wide web
or follow threads back in time
albeit not more
than a couple generations –
whereby emigrants did flee
from supposed eastern european swath
in general finding you to rhyme
for no reason,
just as other creatures
great or small occupy
(wall street) themselves with glee
or just groveling along
at bare ***** knuckle existence
without a dime
less apt to own luxury
of how **** sapiens
purportedly evolved from monk-key
whereby harsh ill fate tempts them
into life of crime
when perhaps riches
with kingly figures
loomed large in their family tree

branching off way
back when back in the day
glorious personalities populated
genealogy to boot
twisting a tortured destiny
somewhere along the way
setting stage for rags
when once august ancestry
buried in loot
yet tis quite frivolous
to bemoan present
woes or even pray

to win lottery turning attention
to how like
our ancestral gingko or newt
dwelling in that rich primordial
egg drop soup wantonly
in massive bay
inexorably transformed
(by dint of dice throw)
per flora to take root
as well fauna to mutate
into species and genus
on land to assay

giving rise to variety
to an assortment of animals and plants
and this one speck of flotsam
in particular owns a passion
for square and/or contra dance
whereby others – from massive beasts
to self taught amazing evolved ants
scurry hither and yon to and fro
perhaps also contemplating genetic grants
to be alive for a mere blink of an eye
all due (in my view) to chance.

— The End —