'Harrumph' poems - Hello Poetry

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Lawrence Hall Aug 2018

What's Wrong with Education These Days? Harrumph!

The principal in a cool cartoon tee
His fashion sneakers squeaking across the floor
Sets out candy, pizzas, and canned sodas
Arranges a door prize, and assembles the faculty

Requires them to sign in so he can check on them
Orders them to hold hands and sing the school song
Reminds them they are all one big family
As a preface to his primary agenda:

To tell them to be more professional
The principal in a cool cartoon tee

from LADY WITH A DEAD TURTLE, 2014, available from amazon.com as bits of dead tree and on the Kindle

#school #principals #teachers

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Nat Lipstadt Jun 2018

Songs of Going to Oregon: No. 2 But Who Knew?

the earth is curved - sure y’all knew that.
but to get to the Northwest,
Interstate 84
ain’t le route plus directe

nope curve north to Ontario,
wave to Bex as I cross over
London and Toronto, also can’t recall
which poet from Rochester hails,
or did they shuffle off to Buffalo?

Crossing Erie, Huron, and Michigan Great Lakes all,
brings to mind
my mother’s birthplace,
Last of the Mohicans,
and the three years I did in the Cleveland Penitentiary,
where sun was illegal and baseball was a pretend play
of cowboys and Indians
but by god, it made me
the penitent fella I am today

Look skyward to Montreal,
yes, there he is, the Leo Priest,
the baffled king,
blessing this poetic meet ‘n greet trip
with a smiling unsurprising
hallelujah

Apparently some US citizens still can traverse O Canada,
even if one forgot their passports,
and are not PNG’s (Persons Not so GREAT)

over Minneapolis shed a tear for Diane,
a poet- gone-missing, and wonder if you reader come from
St. Cloud, Fargo or Duluth, Bismarck or Aberdeen,
surely they still speak poetic English there
in a twangy metering methodology - well, message me asap

wow there really is a Saskatoon!

the pilot asks us to lean left in our seats
to help turn the plane
so we go to Portland and not to Vancouver...
me thinks he might be a touch Rockie Mountain High,
considering we are at 30 thousand something Imperial,
as he walks the main cabin with an oxygen mask and a
huuuuuge grin

see the distant Cascades
through a crack in the shuttered windows,
must be close to “the coast”
(as if, harrumph, there were but one)

ah, words in the clouds, ripe for the plucking
must be getting close to Oregon,
where poets grow on trees, woody words like ****,
and log-float poems down the Columbia to the sea

gonna drink me some poets
under the table cause this
trip I ain’t no driving and I am already
“flying” ‘n scribing and arriving
on a high tide and a good wind

#songs #of #going #to #oregon #no #2

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Diamond Dahl Nov 2012

Reflections of Myself

I am a controlling boyfriend.
No, I am not a male, nor do I have a girlfriend to abuse. But I am the crazy stalker controlling boyfriend.
I've been noticing a trend, one I touched on the other day in a status. I am free with my boy -- make out at Rocky, browse activities at play parties -- but am extremely jealous and possessive of my girls, when I have one. Or even in my present case of not having one (waiting on someone to make up her mind, or wrap her head around the poly issue), I still don't want her seeing anyone else in the meantime. :harrumph:
People new to poly often question "how do you handle the jealousy??" It's funny, I don't get jealous when I have both partners in my bed, or in my arms. I get jealous when outsiders are flirtatious or showing interest. It's also funny, I get more upset when people flirt with my boy not knowing he's with me than when they are aware of our situation. I don't get it either; just a quirk of mine. I have gotten very ****** at random guys in the club ogling my girlfriend, even though they had no idea she was my girlfriend, and probably would've ogled more if they knew we were together.
Perhaps my nonchalance with my boy is merely grown out of our time together. It's been six and a half years, and no one has managed to break us up -- though some have tried. But out of all that we've become stronger together.
Maybe it's the fear in me, that finding a third partner is so difficult to begin with. Believe me, a patient person I am not. And for a unicorn, there's a far higher risk that someone else will charm her away from me/us.
And it's not limited to the present, either. I had this same issue well over a year ago with another girl. Of course, J was a selfish and inconsiderate person who would make plans with her friends (acceptable), but not bother to tell us until she was dressed to go out (unacceptable). When did you plan on telling us?? K may be the most considerate person I've ever met, so that's not her way at all.
But my realization that I've had these feelings of jealousy and possessiveness before filled me with such self-disgust; I've become my own controlling high school boyfriend, who once told me, and I quote: "I like when you wear pants [over skirts] because when you wear pants, at least you can tell you have no ***." 1. I'd like to see you tell me I have no *** now. ;) 2. ***??
I'm also uncertain if the possessive feelings would be made better or worse as I grow as a dominant. K is the first girl I've ever considered taking on as a sub in addition to as a partner, though she's not aware that's been on my mind. That was not part of the conversation at all yet, I could just see her fitting very nicely on my knee. ;) Even if we weren't to add her to our relationship, were I to ever see anyone else topping her at a party, I would be livid. And if she were to become my girlfriend and my submissive, you bet your sweet *** everyone would be asking my permission before playing at any functions.
Obviously I have some things to work on.
Firstly, finding our unicorn.

(Maybe this one ought not be public.)
Submitted for your approval, I've posted a second version of this piece. Feel free to read both, and tell me which you prefer.
Written approximately Oct. 13

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Nat Lipstadt May 2014

She Decooped and Decamped

Everything thing you are about to read is the whole truth, and nothing but...

she flew
via jet blue,
da coop

decamped urban lands,
leaving poet producing this
piece de (at-the-door poem-de crap) resistance:

Sad mad bad

where I asked?

a mountain in Mexico,
where purpled pink wild flowers decorate,
and the yoga mat is never rolled up
and post pampering included!

harrumph,
and worse,
exclaimed

NYC got florists
and yogi masters
for hire

with my sisters,
will commune,
hike by dawn light,
eat veggies day and night
and bone my body
with exercise

Manhattan got veggies, central parks,
and occasionally a pretty dawn,
bone doctors extraordinaire,
don't you know the best veggies,
grown in Whole Foods in the
Time Warner Center?

go then, leaving poet,
sad mad bad

to salve my soul,
know this!

I am eating
a tuna Swiss melt,
French Fries and ketchup,
Danish made with Danish cheese,
drinking my fatte latte.

This my stress,
so well expressed,
but baby, be advised,

I am doing it,
in our bed!

all day tv watching,
crushed neath an inconsolable need
to do all those spiritual things
of which you disapprove!

you went down the long hallway
at 6am,
you thot you heard me say,

Leila, you got me on my knees!

what was said but this:

*Save me babe,
from doing as I please!

See the banner photo of Mexico

tonite, by candlelight,
with white linen napkins,
frosted flakes and juiced hot dogs
in relish, relished,
on white mans bread,
sliced on the top...and that's just
for my
just deserts

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McClain Jeffrey Moredock Aug 2016

Apologies to Dr. Seuss

I am The Donald, The Donald I am
And not like any other man
I’m living large out on the stump
In this house of cards I am the Trump
Little Marco and Big Ted Cruz
Punched me hard to make me lose
They did not know I cannot bruise
I am the Donald, The Donald I am
Withstanding every media pan
The party of Lincoln, the party of Reagan
They’re on their knees and now they’re beggin’
Please, please, Dump the Trump
To them I say harrumph, harrumph
For I am The Donald nobody’s chump
I dish it out lump after lump
And when at last the votes are counted
And protests left and right are mounted
I’ll still be here still standing tall
Because I’m just too big to fall
Be it Crooked Clinton or ****** Bernie
I’m on the phone to my attorney
Cause you all know I’ve got the loot
And Trumps the card that beats a suit
I am Donald, The Donald I am
Known to all as the Flim-Flam-Man

Jeff Moredock…almost the Ides of March

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Nat Lipstadt Sep 2013

Poetry For a New Audience

First see new photo, or else won't make sense.

Word is out
Animal kingdom on red alert,
No animus allowed near the chair,
Tween human and animal.

Good eats, good writes to be had,
Near that ye old adirondacke chair,
Where scribbles float in
L'air du temps,
Ripe for the plucking.

Arrived in the night dark,
Twelve eyes grinning, sheepish,
Wasn't tho no sheep, just a veritable
**** deer herd munching the shrubs,
Who when head lighted, indifferently said,
Yo *******, it is September, remember,
Get the fk off **our lawn!

Argh.

Morning.
Coffee-armed. Tablet shotguned,
Went to write in the fall sun,
When to my shock n' awe,
A gaggle of geese, awaiting.

And I mean a good-god-**** giggling-gaggle, no sht!
Probably resetting, resettling, looking for forgiveness,
For ******* all over the hard scrabbled grass.
Well no atonement boys, Yom Kippur notwithstanding,
I ain't the forgiving type!

No, no poet!
We stand before you on the Jewish Judgement Day,
Decorously waiting, in a row,
Before the throne, tho honking a little rudely,
Impatient for inscribing in Natalino's
Hall of Fame, Book of Life for the coming year.

Harrumph.

Well, in that case,
(Ego melting secretly inside),
Here is a poem just for you.

Fly south safe,
Inscribed and sealed you will be,
In both the Book of Life and Prosperity,
But only if you, stay off my grass in perpetuity!

Done and off they flew,
Me smiling, proud of my new fame,
Until I found their presents
Under my flip flops.

******* deer.
******* rabbits.
******* geese.

I wish they were not such
Poetry fanatics.

Ok.

Forgiven.

10:11am Yom Kippur morning.

The photo of a dozen plus geese lined up to hear me recite has been changed. Send me a message if u would like to see it post reading the poem. N.

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Roger Turner - Poet Feb 2017

The Galumphers Book

the galumphers book

Every child knows there's monsters
Hiding in the closet and under the bed
But, I have a secret each child should know
And it's about a Galumpher instead....

Galumphers are watchers
They help keep the peace
They help keep the monsters in line

Three eyes watch the closet,
Three on the monster
And three more...did I mention they've nine?

Galumphers aren't dangerous
They live under the bed
They eat socks and the occasional mouse

But, the one thing that's certain
With a Galumpher, well fed
Closet monsters won't stay in your house

If you believe in those monsters
You'll believe in these too
They're as real as the monsters you fear

Just remember Galumphers
Eat the mice and your socks
With Galumphers , the monsters aren't near

I've never seen a Galumpher
But I know they are  real
I know this, because I once was a kid

My dad checked my closet
Before he'd turn out my light
That's where the bad monsters  hid

One night  he told me
Of the Galumphers that watched
With their 5 ears and nine eyes to see

And as my socks went missing
And the mice disappeared
The Galumpher was a new friend to me

Should you meet a Galumpher
Out from under the bed
Just smile and pretend not to see

For he's probably out
To get the dust bunnies off
And to go and have a long ***.

A group of Galumphers
Rarely is found
Say you've seen them and folks say "harrumph"

But just so you know
If you see three or four
A Galumpher group is called a clumph

A Galumpher is quiet
He keeps out of sight
He's protective and knows what to do

They keep children safe
Keeping monsters away
Eating one sock of which you have two

Some might be orange
While others are blue
You don't know what color they'll be

But, they stay in the darkness
There under your bed
So, you don't know what color you'll see

Galumphers aren't scary
They might make you jump
If you see one, it may scare them too

Just smile and nod
And lie down and sleep
Let the Galumpher do what he must do

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Nat Lipstadt Apr 2017

@see level, a man's home is his mindful (for Joel)

for JmF

some of us live 16 floors above sea level
upon arrogant Jericho walls that can't ever harrumph
Humptydumpty come tumbling all the way down to be
@see level

some of us on concrete flooring,
to an asphalt street mooring,
sleeping safe in a baby's crib bed,
firm mattress soundly, and firmly foolish believing,
no earth belching upheaval, no way Pompei here,
could ere put them at risk of
awakening beneath and below the
@see level

some of us on four wheels,
calling car, trailer, shelter, home sweetest,
having conceptually realized that
real liberty is the mobility of the mindful
when cruising
@see level

most of us envy those who live upon gently
rocking seductive waves lapping
forgetting that sometimes
the water and the mind demands
your presence down below,
brooking no excused delay,
to an en-graved invitation to meet
@see level

some sleep upon grass soil dirt
not our own, lacking title,
nonetheless, calling it my old Kentucky entitlement,
though not by any state deemed as mine,
for what is home ownership,
upon a sea tempest solid all share,
that owns us, when
@see level

it matters so little where we reside -
foliage coverage, fallout shelter, lean-to,
an in-ground swimming pool or a root cellar,
sheets pulled up to underneath
our see level chins -

it is our minds ever waving
and surely ever wavering,
deciding for us
where we truly live and how(l)
and never @where,
however modestly,
we distinguish our selves
when we are mindful
@see level

palace or park -
I've slept in them all -
as master and owner,
guest and slave,
in the dungeon and the presidential suite,
home to the haves resting precarious on the backs
of the have-nots
way above the
@see level

but all true men true
acknowledge the surety of their mind for
@ see level
true north intuitive in our common compass
and life's station matters -
not a lousy dollar's worth of whit

cause
we all lie prone in this mind's zone,
in equality, upon the good earth,
beneath god and his changeable erratic sky,
@see level

free floating midst the mind's insightful
signature quality of light hitting the waters of our fluids,
window wonderful for concentrated clarity
for @see level comes
the equality of reality

_•_
any message you send can and may become a poem
_•_
3:03am avril 3 two nought one seven
@see level

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Third Eye Candy Nov 2015

Apple On My Head, Arrow In My Mouth

windmills grind
a breeze into a wisp
as wrung dust, floats
in dust moats of cumulus rust
like the fatigue of a sixth sense
in a world of five comas
and a hunch.

a world of long shadows
with a brief harrumph
of brass

from a blood-yellow sun
and a bruised
lamp.

the catheter of a ******
and a pearl's
edge.

apple on my head
arrow in my mouth...

and a goose egg.

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Brent Kincaid Mar 2018

Scoundrels and rascals
All decked out in pastels
And Brooks Brothers suits
With cufflinks to boot
And five hundred dollars ties
Thinking that makes them wise;
Just one of the rich guys
And nobody to question them,
Never harrumph or an ahem
Because they are above it all,
No boring trips to the mall
They depend on their buyers
And other expensive liars
To tell them how cheap it is
To engage in this dressing biz,
For them to buy for the guy
And never ask why so high.

After all, it’s Armani, not Guess
So why should they confess
That they are smarter than him
The guy they work for is so dim
He pays whatever they say.
After all, he can afford to pay.
Even the water his maid gets
Is so high quality, one forgets
It is only hydrogen and oxygen
Not something created by men;
Probably bottled from the tap.
He never knows he is a sap
That falls for the television ads.
He will die completely glad.

It is so ****-hardening for him
To sup in restaurants so dim
He hardly notices how small
The costly portions are at all.
He lets them uncork the wine
And brays about how fine
The taste and the vintage,
Not caring the damage
It does to his Diner’s card.
This kind of life is not hard.
Plus he gets to go tomorrow
And wreak more sorrow on
Constituents and other peons
And wreak his own opinion
Even though he is but a minion
Doing exactly what he is told.
As long as he rakes in the gold.

Later, a bit under the influence
He'll revel in the confluence
Of a lack of conscience, and
Socially accepted concupiscence
At an appropriate gathering
Where there is a smattering
Of propriety and morality
That allows rented geniality
And permits him to rise up
And drink too many cups
While he beats his chest
Just like all of the rest
And call for the dancers
To come and surrender
To their oh-so rightful rapine
That won’t make the magazines.

#***** #gomorrah #modern #wastrels #1ers #poetry #kincaid

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Nat Lipstadt Jul 2020

poetry with two spoons and a salt shaker (Lora Lee)

poetry with two spoons and a salt shaker

~for poet, writer, Lora Lee, unexpectedly~

my symphonic orchestral accompaniment today, musically
unlimited, except by lack of disowning skill, a voice unkempt,
spoons and salt shaker, there in-nate rhythmic opinions off key,
worse, my manly word-smithy, out o’town in June, July, August too?

He, having an affair with my she-muses, left me bereft & berated,
helplessly hoping, the timpani of my words clashing, overrated,
woeful under-something, betraying my need for spicy sriracha,
poetry, sans hamburger helper, no-tasty, even less-than-average

everyone comes rushing in to the kitchen, hearing my to-sky-voices
howling, thinking something wrong, the four instruments rack up a cacophony of rhythmic-less noises, words emerging, to-a-person, they announce, “you’re no Allen Ginsburg, ppp-please not so early next time”

alas, they don’t know the poems are coming hot and heavy, guess I’ll
go outside, serenade them birdies in the trees, the striped bass in the bay, the rabbits procreating/sleeping/eating under their (our) dock

the squirrels know better, have skedaddled to the next-door-neighbor who feeds them classical stuff with a dollop of jazz creme mixed in, but I don’t care, cause I got all day, the rest of my life, to amuse me & you too

to refine the qualitative, to improve my creative, I’ve gone “native” and the rush is the best, the wind beneath my spectacles (haha) drives my rhyming to lowlight heights of prosody, besides seems

everybody has gone to a different beach, so it’s just me and the giant blackbirds cawing holy hell noises, and I’m thinking seriously about baking pie, but they just don’t get the hint, how annoying is that!

harrumph!

BESIDES GOTTA WRITE SOME SERIOUS STUFF...

#lora #lee #two #spoons #salt #shaker #lipstadt

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Wk kortas Feb 2018

krazy kat's lament

Now how to figger what makes a feller tick?
They’re hot and they’re cold and they’re nothin’ at all.
(Th’ persuasive arts ain’t no match for a brick.)

A body can stand herself pretty and slick
But he’ll hem and he’ll haw and harrumph an’ stall
Now how to figger what makes a feller tick?

I’d much rather take on a lion that’s sick
Than a certain mouse backed up ‘gin a wall.
(Th’ persuasive arts ain’t no match for a brick.)

Wish I had a gris-gris or some other trick
So’s I could hold a certain feller in thrall;
Now how to figger what makes a feller’ tick?

Sof’ words and June moons—why, they ain’t worth a lick
If your life is just one big free-for-all
(Th’ persuasive arts ain’t no match for a brick.)

Your poor hawt cries a river an’ beats real quick
When love takes you down like a cannonball.
Now how to figger what makes a feller’ tick?
(Th’ persuasive arts ain’t no match for a brick.)

#zzzzipboink

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matthew scott harris Apr 2018

DONALD TRUMP MUST BE PERMANENTLY BARRED AND FURLOUGHED

FROM WHITE HOUSE

I ham aghast at increasing banality, deviltry, ferocity,

   imbecility, liability, obscenity, rapacity, ugly

   offal popularity witnessed by Donald trump

hence aye aerate thoughts,

   how *** a nine his banal, demoniacal,

   egomaniacal, fanatical, guttural, and hurtful

   culling frightening insight, where portentous more deadly than

   sport ugh guise Man 'o War debacle

   doth crowdsource, flickr, and indeed long foster

   my plenti full over active imagination

   to induce writhing expressions of fearfulness

   proportionate burst of haughtiness) while he doth stump

would animate mine rear i.e. rather noxious flatulence

   expelled from outward doppelganger of ****

pull stilts skin cuz this chap haint Noah fan, but wood vouchsafe

   tub be a jimmy neutron n sponge bob squarepants

   Ark n saw wing enemy against da dull don dat pumps

swaggering bravado with fist swelling ego

  analogous to his body infected with severe case of mumps

that brazen denizen hurling and spewing volcanic fiery spittle

   with incense against others – to him mere lumps

of protoplasm heckled as inferior to himself

  boasts as proof of favoritism, that enervating, fawning,

   gabbling feverish arrogant mania for him jumps

higher than expected,

   while he commits faux paws which bumps

his ratings higher, he gleefully endorses

  pandemonium toward gloating gump

  shun from the uproarious. querulous

  and populous madding crowd!

throughout launch of his campaign,

  banally, devilishly, and fiendishly

   character assassinating those opposed to his views -

inducing me to harrumph and dump faith

   in humanity, wondering what ruse

smart democratic pol mongers can conjure up

  while pacing in soft shoes

woeful sentiments sans his attempt did render

  competitors to drop out in ones n twos

whom he purportedly considers apostates,

   and heathens cons heed Make America Great use

all manner of bullying (determination whose occipital pupils

coalescing into searing grape nut size wrath poisonous daggers)

   forcibly silencing any jeers

when necessary plagiarizing neo **** play book with a "who cares"

attitude closing in on pinteresting

  for United Stated chess board foursquare,

which deliberate intent to foment n wrought prostrate -

music to those hoteliers billion dollar ears

   sans defeated apprenticing contestants hearing sobbing tears

with vitriolic violent bilious inducing jabs of his a will full spears

   reputations of personalities (men and women politicians

  his especial flavor of scathing, scandalous, scabrous sordidness

   spewed squeamishly to grab by the figurative crotch

   the hello kitty 2016 presidential election),

   whether liberal, conservative, heterosexual or queers

thus this middle-aged mwm abject psychic fractal shears!

the following poetic addendum composed way buff fore

(in my mind) atrocious, cretaceous, enormous, ferocious,

garrulous, hellacious, indecorous, malicious nemesis,

pernicious, querulous, rapacious, specious, tedious,

unrighteous, vicious, dangerous demon

must BE STOPPED IN HIS TRACKS ASAP!

DONALD TRUMP – RE: DUCKS --

this portion dashed off (while dry ving an open white hearse slay

so many months back before sale him slotted the most coveted

Casino biggest win - before the political imbroglio

   much more upsetting than today

Axe the old don

A trump peter n piper of incredulous hellish crud - be gone

With the ha air brushed pompous ****

  so Macy jackal hound doth run

After public outcry yelps for his hide and proletarian discord won!

Donald Duck Trump ™$ - a pompous ***

makes war with his big brass

knuckles and bucket of crass

maligns vis a vis character assassination with bro kin glass

inciting banal deathly hallowed expletives toward lass

sees – especially Fox Television

   news anchor woman Megyn Kelly

   inducing said personality to bear grizzly brunt of brutish mass

of vitriolic n vile insults from incriminating verbal pass

   so…ex post facto viz mine NO VOTE from me

   thus this digital screed to disallow him

   to accept the oath of office, cuz he will hurrahs

   from such a snooty arrogant simian with sass!

I van a try to describe while sitting on me ****

How he oh bomb in lee rages with gnashing teeth

  while back a slump

Blasting Democratic nomination as a sham –

  From special interest bro and sis turn pump

He, the epitomy of crass bloviation, a malignant lump

Whose rants sans presidential sham rocked outcome

   lets him trounce, pounce, denounce

   liberal Democratic stalwart efforts bolstering middle class

   to blitz total mortal kombat like a rabid red bull

   in a China shop with his millions beds this,

  That and another woman to ******* jump

Disseminating gene pool – Obama null lee birthing

   more quackery and additionally doth ****

The mass media as some foolhardy charade

   characterizes abominable (MORE FRIGHTFUL THAN YETI):

   culpable, deplorable, execrable,

   et cetera of a frazzled grump, This arboreal clothed ape

   Erecting Taj Mahal ******* symbol where players dump

And gamble away hard earn cash

   For his hello kitty, as if cachet to grind and bump

Lambasting with that maniacal leering pout

   while hair *** runs rampant with red bulls

   In a China shop atop his bulbous

   aerosol sprayed heady measly shaped

  ulterior motive aimed his sights to become Pastor of Muppets

  Dis eased cranial hologram

   Of cretaceous, facetious and insidious mump!

By: Baron von Ivan Mal N. Ya.

#out #with #the #loutish #oaf #full #schmuck

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matthew scott harris May 2017

Manifestation Métier Write

As an indie alt rock'n tribe beck ha dishabille poet, hive u challenge writing *** null guess to begetting heir or heiress, which includes gestation of an, emotion, idea, sen timent, unbeknownst if outcome birthed to be fabulous then however the whim sic al notion spins within thine cerebral centrifuge, the imagination pregnant with fetus of a fledgling concept feeling with byte size sea legs, not quite ready for prime time beak combs obvious, as swollen womb expansive lettered girth manifests and coalesces into miniature Confucius versatile baby (unless unexpected contusions render exertion aborted effort, the proud procreator bounteous, which success inspires this scrivener to tackle another and fleeting thought and sire by product with audacity. oft times, the sacred seconds silenced by stillness louder than "Big Ben" ear splitting only to me squirreled away in this basement. den the dead quiet riot audio logical sonic boom decibel asper a water nymph sprung from a fen, or when sneaky fiery fox slips into the house, where yokes roosting long foster mass squawking. manifold egg on eyes zing hen, the end result metamorphoses into a totally tubularly unforeseen jumble of gibberish senseless wordy clump aspiring to convey some essence of logic, though best to take a furlough than persist to interpret trumpeted dump of discordantly strung English bits, which intractable insistence might spell f-o-r-c-e-d g-r-u-m-p as the mood one may find them-self, unless he/she can call the literary mod squad to resolve harrumph, and with any lucky the once amorphous lumpen pro lit tarry hit might undergo an amazing transformation. a cherished poem plump with wriggling juicy fruit weighing down the boughs as if limbs ready to slump iz born.

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matthew scott harris Sep 2020

Being proactive after getting hoodwinked

(alternatively titled: tardy duff fender of assertiveness,
especially after adjusting following insanity clause
affixed with rubber baby-buggy bumpers)

Methinks I nearly got snookered
courtesy CVS employee at store number 7569
(address: 1206 North Gravel Pike,
Zieglerville, Pennsylvania 19492)
September ninth, two thousand and twenty.

Saleswoman rattled off spiel
regarding CVS Carepass program
the missus immediately
became suspicious of aforementioned deal
every month five dollars
debited from checking account,
figurative highway robbery,
and/or outright steal.

The above trifling
unspectacular wrought scenario
an exception to rule,
whereby yours truly usually
spurred Manichean inner duel
witnessed by guns ablazing
trampling outspokenness
giving Isaac Bashevis Singers,
Gimpel the fool

run for his in dove viz hubble money
now forced into dire straits,
where chicks free yea
how **** sapiens cruel
nasty, short and brutish beastly species
devises sadomasochistic tool
hankering, and hungering to starve
think also about anonymous
innocent tortured soul (me, ha)

kept in solitary confinement,
with no chance of parole
a convict for life i.e. hard skool
of knocks alum deceived
hired, and lobotomized
slave driven human mule
donkey *** tee (hee hee hee),
and fed diet of worms
in tandem with thin gruel.

Far to often annals
constituting mein kampf,
I experienced oblivious naiveté
undergoing blitzkrieg linkedin
with scapegoat honorific,
now sortie give snort against
mine passivity harrumph!

Dan D. yankee from Schwenksville,
Pennsylvania didst doodle and dawdle
planting feather in figurative cap - yay
perceptive sixth sense analogous to xray,
yours truly more wise

to the insidious mean way
dominant nasty, short
and brutish human beasts
Machiavellian bullies instill fear
for egoistic personal gain oye vey

immediately judging me as prime target
oh my dog... early in grade school
threatening hateful taunts got underway
I attest suffering verbal abuse
persists even today

offtime couched within feigned concern,
yet sinister motives at heart stay
anger toward able, eager and ready
poetic tactics launched courtesy shipshape quay
zee reasonably rhyming literary barbs to portray,

how creative poetic technique can outweigh
Norse (er horse) sense
scrawled by Lake Woebegone
bachelor farmers' guardian angels
originally harkening from Norway
deported to Normandy Farms,

including me nonagenarian papa,
cuz they (you decide who)
started to trumpet melee
predicated when power of attorney
given to a girl named Amélie,
dime a dozen teller (of tall tales)
at Wells Fargo Bank.

Continue reading...

matthew scott harris Jan 2021

Donald Trump must be permanently barred and furloughed from Whitehouse

While figuratively (yet electronically) rifling thru bajillion documents, I came across one written four plus years ago and slightly modified today January ninth two thousand and twenty one at approximately 9:42 PM, when Hillary Clinton Democratic contestant chose Tim Kaine of Virginia as her running mate and former forty second first lady got thoroughly thrashed during debates with he who must NOT be named.

Little did yours truly (me) intimate what horrific state of affairs the forty fifth president would wreak (his latest gig desecrating sacred government enclaves housed within Capitol Hill), although keen political prognosticators foresaw calamity plain as day. If only said metaphorical crystal ball gazers ominous premonition heeded and/or brave soul(s) with chutzpah (think yours truly) raised a ruckus to oust the newly anointed commander in chief.

Hindsight always 20/20!

Egg gads, I ham aghast,
(and turning green with disgust)
at increasing popularity
witnessed by Donald Trump,
hence aye aerate thoughts,
how *** a nine his banal, demoniacal,
egomaniacal, fanatical, guttural, and hurtful
culling frightening insight, where
portentous Portuguese Man 'o War debacle
doth crowdsource, Flickr, Snapchat,
Twitter and indeed long foster
my plenti full overactive imagination

to induce writhing expressions of fearfulness
proportionate burst of haughtiness)
while he doth stump
would animate mine rear
i.e. rather noxious flatulence
expelled from outward doppelganger of ****
pull stilts skin cuz this chap haint Noah fan,
but wood vouchsafe
tub be a Jimmy Neutron
n Spongebob Squarepants
Ark n saw wing enemy against
da dull don dat does pumps

swaggering bravado with fist swelling ego
analogous to his body infected
with severe case of mumps
that brazen denizen hurling
and spewing volcanic fiery spittle
with incense against others –
to him mere lumps
of protoplasm heckled as inferior to himself
boasts as proof of favoritism,

that enervating, fawning,
gabbling feverish arrogant mania for him jumps
higher than expected,
while he commits faux paws which bumps
his ratings higher, he gleefully endorses
pandemonium toward gloating gumps
shun from the uproarious querulous
and populous madding crowd
regarding return of native son.

Throughout launch of his campaign,
banally, devilishly, and fiendishly
character assassinating those opposed to his views -
inducing me to harrumph and dump faith
in humanity, wondering what ruse
smart democratic pol mongers can conjure up

while pacing in soft shoes
woeful sentiments sans his attempt did render
competitors to drop out in ones n twos
whom he purportedly considers apostates,
and heathens cons heed Make America Great use
all manner of bullying
(determination whose occipital pupils

coalescing into searing
grape nut size wrath poisonous daggers)
forcibly silencing any jeers
when necessary plagiarizing neo **** playbook -
with trophy wife eliciting "who cares"
attitude closing in on pinteresting
for United States chess board foursquare,
which deliberate intent
to foment n wrought prostrate -
music to those hoteliers billion dollar ears

sans defeated apprenticing contestants
hearing sobbing tears
with vitriolic violent bilious
inducing jabs of his will full brittle spears
reputations of personalities
(men and women politicians
his especial flavor of scathing,
scandalous, scabrous sordidness

spewed squeamishly to grab
by the figurative crotch
(ala Michael Jackson)
the hello kitty 2016 presidential election),
whether liberal, conservative,
heterosexual or queers
thus tis find this muddling middle-aged mwm
abject psychic fractal shears.

The following poetic addendum composed way buff fore this (in my mind) atrocious, cretaceous, enormous, ferocious, garrulous, hellacious, indecorous, malicious nemesis, pernicious, querulous, rapacious, specious, tedious, unrighteous, vicious, dangerous demon must BE STOPPED IN HIS TRACKS ASAP!

DONALD TRUMP – RE: DUCKS --
this portion dashed off
(while driving an open white hearse slay
so many months back before sale him
slotted the most coveted
Casino biggest win -
before the political imbroglio
much more upsetting than today

Axe the old don
A trump peter n piper
of incredulous hellish crud - be gone
With the ha airbrushed pompous ****
so the Macy jackal hound doth run
After public outcry yelps
for his hide and proletarian discord won.

Donald Duck Trump ™!$ - a pompous ***
makes war with his big brass
knuckles and bucket of crass
maligns vis a vis character assassination
with soundcloud of broken glass
inciting banal deathly
hallowed expletives toward lass
sees – especially Fox Television
news anchor woman Megyn Kelly
inducing said personality

to bear the brunt of brutish mass
of vitriolic n vile insults
from incriminating verbal pass
so…ex post facto
viz mine NO VOTE from me
thus this digital screed to disallow him
to accept the oath of office,
cuz he will hurrahs
from such a snooty arrogant
simian with sass.

I van a try to describe while sitting on me ****
How he oh bomb in lee rages with gnashing teeth
while back a slump
blasting Democratic nomination as a sham –
from special interest bro and sis turn pump
he, the epitomy of crass bloviation,
a malignant lump
whose rants sans presidential outcome
a sham rocking red bull
in a China shop with his millions beds this,

that and another woman to ******* jump
disseminating gene pool –
Obama null lee birthing
more quackers and additionally doth ****
the mass media as some foolhardy charade
and caricature of a frazzled grump
this arboreal clothed ape
erecting taj mahal ******* symbol
where players dump
and gamble away hard earn cash

for his (hmm... mew zing) hello kitty,
as if that cachet to grind and bump
lambasting with that maniacal leering pout
while hair *** runs rampant with red bulls
in a china shop atop his bulbous aerosol
sprayed heady measly shaped
ulterior motive aimed his sights
to become pastor of muppets
dis eased cranial hologram
of a cretaceous, facetious and insidious mump.

By: Baron Von Ivan Mal N. Ya.

Continue reading...

Neville Johnson Feb 2022

Each and Every Day

Modern lovers
Fall asleep together
Wake up and read the paper
Nod and harrumph
Have coffee with each other
Yeah, that’s the kind of love I want
That’s the kind of love we have

This is today with many tomorrows
We’re way past yesterday
We own the world
There’s no sorrow
Let us pray
That our love lives long
Stays strong
That we’ll always find a way
To bring joy to the other
Each and every day

Valentines Day

Continue reading...

Neville Johnson Feb 2021

Each and Every Day

Modern lovers
Fall asleep together
Wake up and read the paper
Nod and harrumph
Have coffee with each other
Yeah, that’s the kind of love I want
That’s the kind of love we have

This is today with many tomorrows
We’re way past yesterday
We own the world
There’s no sorrow
Let us pray
That our love lives long
Stays strong
That we’ll always find a way
To bring joy to the other
Each and every day

Valentines Day 2021

Continue reading...

matthew scott harris Feb 2022

Donald Trump must be permanently lambasted...

and ewe know what else...
furloughed & barred from Whitehouse

Ducks of former self proclaimed Grand Poobah
getting lined up and goosed as these words typed
after trumpeting January 6th, 2021
as violent insurrection
Mitch Mcconnell got ribbing.

Poor sign,... I ham going to pisces aghast, where
pigheaded previous president concerned
at increasing mind numbing popularity
and looming ominous shadow
witnessed by Donald Trump,
a poor loser who viciously
inexplicable resurgence against odds
despite his opprobrious person,
hence aye aerate thoughts,
how *** a nine his banal, demoniacal,
egomaniacal, fanatical,
guttural, hurtful, inimical

culling frightening insight,
where malicious, portentous,
salacious, venomous Portuguese
Man 'o War debacle
doth crowdsource, flickr,
and indeed long foster
my plenti full overactive imagination
to induce writhing expressions of fearfulness
proportionate burst of haughtiness)
while he doth stump
would animate mine rear
i.e. rather noxious flatulence

expelled from outward doppelganger of ****
pull stilts skin cuz this chap
haint noah fan, but wood vouchsafe
tub be a jimmy neutron
n spongebobsquarepants
ark n saw wing enemy
against da dull don dat does pump
swaggering bravado with fist swelling ego
analogous to his body
infected with severe case of mumps
that brazen denizen hurling
and spewing volcanic fiery spittle
with incense against others –

to him mere lumps
of protoplasm heckled as inferior to himself
boasts as proof of favoritism,
that enervating, endearing fawning,
gabbling feverish arrogant,
bombastic, chauvinistic, egotistical
mania for him jumps
higher than expected,
while he commits faux paws which bumps
his ratings higher, he gleefully endorses
pandemonium toward gloating gump
shun from the uproarious. querulous
and populous madding crowd.

Throughout relaunch of his campaign,
banally, devilishly, and fiendishly
character assassinating
those opposed to his views -
inducing me to harrumph and dump faith
in humanity, wondering what ruse
smart democratic pol mongers can conjure up
while pacing in soft shoes
woeful sentiments sans his attempt did render
(during 2020 race to White House)
competitors to drop out in ones n twos
whom he purportedly considers apostates,

and heathens cons heed
Make America Great use
all manner of
bullying, execrating, instigating
chaos, ferocious, insidious lies
determination, whose re: his occipital pupils
coalescing, hardening into searing
grape nut size wrath poisonous daggers
forcibly silencing any jeers
when necessary
plagiarizing neo **** playbook -
with a "who cares"

attitude closing in on pinteresting
for United States chess board foursquare,
which deliberate intent
to foment n wrought prostrate -
music to those hoteliers billion dollar ears
defeating apprenticing contestants
hearing sobbing tears
with vitriolic violent bilious
inducing jabs of his a will full spears
reputations of personalities
(men and women politicians

his especial flavor of
scathing, scandalous, scabrous sordidness
spewed squeamishly
to grab by the figurative crotch
the hello kitty 2024 presidential election),
whether liberal, conservative,
heterosexual or queers
thus tis find this muddling middle aged mwm
garden variety and generic guy
brandish, flourish, and nourish
psychic fractal brittle shears.

Continue reading...

matthew scott harris Dec 2021

DONALD TRUMP MUST BE PERMANENTLY

FURLOUGHED & BARRED FROM WHITEHOUSE

Ducks of former self proclaimed poobah
getting lined up as these words typed.

Poor sign,... I ham aghast, where
pigheaded previous president concerned
at increasing mind numbing popularity
and looming ominous shadow
witnessed by Donald Trump
(a poor loser who viciously
inexplicable resurgence against odds
despite his opprobrious person,
hence aye aerate thoughts,
how *** a nine his banal, demoniacal,
egomaniacal, fanatical,
guttural, hurtful, inimical

culling frightening insight,
where malicious, portentous,
salacious, venomous Portuguese
Man 'o War debacle
doth crowdsource, flickr,
and indeed long foster
my plenti full overactive imagination
to induce writhing expressions of fearfulness
proportionate burst of haughtiness)
while he doth stump
would animate mine rear
i.e. rather noxious flatulence

expelled from outward doppelganger of ****
pull stilts skin cuz this chap
haint noah fan, but wood vouchsafe
tub be a jimmy neutron
n spongebobsquarepants
ark n saw wing enemy
against da dull don dat does pump
swaggering bravado with fist swelling ego
analogous to his body
infected with severe case of mumps
that brazen denizen hurling
and spewing volcanic fiery spittle

with incense against others –
to him mere lumps
of protoplasm heckled as inferior to himself
boasts as proof of favoritism,
that enervating, endearing fawning,
gabbling feverish arrogant mania for him jumps
higher than expected,
while he commits faux paws which bumps
his ratings higher, he gleefully endorses
pandemonium toward gloating gump
shun from the uproarious. querulous
and populous madding crowd.

Throughout relaunch of his campaign,
banally, devilishly, and fiendishly
character assassinating
those opposed to his views -
inducing me to harrumph and dump faith
in humanity, wondering what ruse
smart democratic pol mongers can conjure up
while pacing in soft shoes
woeful sentiments sans his attempt did render
(during 2020 race to White House)
competitors to drop out in ones n twos
whom he purportedly considers apostates,

and heathens cons heed
Make America Great use
all manner of
bullying, execrating, instigating
chaos, ferocious, insidious lies
determination, whose re: his occipital pupils
coalescing, hardening into searing
grape nut size wrath poisonous daggers
forcibly silencing any jeers
when necessary
plagiarizing neo **** playbook -
with a "who cares"

attitude closing in on pinteresting
for United States chess board foursquare,
which deliberate intent
to foment n wrought prostrate -
music to those hoteliers billion dollar ears
defeating apprenticing contestants
hearing sobbing tears
with vitriolic violent bilious
inducing jabs of his a will full spears
reputations of personalities
(men and women politicians

his especial flavor of
scathing, scandalous, scabrous sordidness
spewed squeamishly
to grab by the figurative crotch
the hello kitty 2024 presidential election),
whether liberal, conservative,
heterosexual or queers
thus tis find this muddling middle aged mwm
garden variety and generic guy
brandish, flourish, and nourish
psychic fractal brittle shears.

Continue reading...

Lawrence Hall Jun 9

From Shakespeare: Bare Ruined Arguments

Lawrence Hall HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

From Shakespeare: Bare Ruined Arguments

Cf. Shakespeare’s Sonnet 73

In near-winter’s cold, lonely emptiness
As manifested by the utilitarianism
The industrial Mordor bleakness of
A cafeteria for adjunct instructors:

V. Obviously, the bare ruined choirs are an allusion to the dissolution of the monasteries.

R. It’s not obvious at all! It’s a may be, not a must be!

V. It is obvious; the Shakespeare family were secret Catholics!

R. We don’t know that! And even if so, you can’t just say that everything is secret Catholic stuff! The sweet birds really could be just sweet birds gone for the winter, not Benedictines martyred in the Dissolution! A cigar is just a cigar, right?

V. But Shakespeare is not as shallow as some critics I could name; his language is rich and layered. He enriches the language with his depths of meanings, and religious persecution has the side effect of taking ordinary nouns and comforting the reader who would still miss the ancient usages of the monastic Daily Office.

R. Edmondson and Wells say the reference is to choir boys, so there’s a possibility!

V. Yes, but Edmonson and Wells are published by the Cambridge University Press (Harrumph!).

R. And just what’s wrong with the Cambridge University Press?

Voice Off: If you two are done we need to clear this table; people are waiting, you know.

Meme-ing from Shakespeare's Sonnet 73

#bareruinedchoirs

Continue reading...

matthew scott harris Jul 2022

Manifestation of métier write

As an indie alt rock'n
tribe beck ha rolling stone dishabille poet,
who views challenge of writing analogous
to begetting an heir or heiress,
which former includes
gestation of an emotion,
idea, sentiment,...unbeknownst
if outcome birthed to be fabulous
then however the whimsical notion spins
within thine cerebral centrifuge,
the imagination pregnant with fetus
of a fledgling concept feeling
with byte size sea legs,

not quite ready for prime time
and beak combs devious, industrious,
overconscientious (hopefully), victorious...
though, as swollen womb dar full expansive
lettered girth manifests and coalesces
into miniature Confucius
versatile Buddha baby
(unless unexpected contusions
render exertion aborted effort), the proud
pro-creator bounteous, glorious, riotous
which unexpected success inspires
brassy, ironic, steely wordsmith
to tackle another and fleeting thought
and sire by product with audacity.

Oft times the sacred seconds silenced
by stillness louder than "Big Ben"
ear splitting only to me - squirreled away
in this makeshift manorial man cave
the grateful dead foo fighters quiet, a riot
with audio logical sonic boom decibel -
asper water nymph sprung from fen
or when the quick brown
(sneaky, leery, and fiery) fox
jumps over the lazy dog
slips into the house,
where the yolk cull doth roost
long fostering mass squawking
of manifold egg on eyes zing hen.

the end result metamorphoses into
a totally tubular unforeseen jumble
of gibberish senseless wordy clump
aspiring to convey some essence of logic,
though best to take a furlough than persist
to interpret dump
of discordantly strung English bits,
which intractable insistence
might spell f-o-r-c-e-d g-r-u-m-p

as the mood one may find them-self,
unless he/she can call
the literary mod squad to resolve harrumph
and with any lucky the once amorphous lump
pen pro lit tarry hit might undergo
an amazing transformation a mugwump,
a cherished poem plump
with juicy fruit weighing down the boughs
as if limbs ready to slump.

Continue reading...

matthew scott harris Dec 2021

Manifestation of métier write

finds yours truly sitting today
December 24th at 2:41 P.M. with slight
hunched over mien as edge of night
quite some hours away when height
of Santa Claus appearance bright
rosy cheeks glow insync with
Rudolph the reindeer red nose.

As an indie alt rock'n
tribe beck ha dishabille poet,
I view the challenge of writing analogous
to betting an heir or heiress
which includes gestation of an, emotion,
idea, sentiment,...unbeknownst
if outcome birthed to be fabulous
then however the whimsical notion spins
within thine cerebral centrifuge,
the imagination pregnant with fetus
of a fledgling concept feeling
with byte size sea legs,

not quite ready for
prime time and beak comb devious
though, as swollen
womb dar full expansive
lettered girth manifests and coalesces
into miniature Confucius
versatile baby (unless unexpected contusions
render exertion aborted effort, the proud
pro-creator bounteous
which success inspires this scrivener
to tackle another and fleeting thought
and sire by product with audacity.

Oft times the sacred seconds silenced
by stillness louder than "Big Ben"
ear splitting only to me - squirreled away
in this makeshift basement den
the dead quiet, a riot
with audio logical sonic boom decibel -
asper a water nymph sprung from a fen
or when a sneaky fiery fox
slips into the house,
where the yolk cull doth roost
long fostering mass squawking
of manifold egg on eyes zing hen.

The end result metamorphoses into
a totally tubular unforeseen jumble
analogous to uglies that bump
of gibberish senseless wordy clump
aspiring to convey some essence of logic,
though best to take furlough than persist
to interpret dump
of discordantly strung English bits,
which intractable insistence
might spell f-o-r-c-e-d g-r-u-m-p
as the mood one may find them-self,

unless he/she can call
the literary mod squad
to resolve harrumph
and with any lucky trump
petting, the once amorphous lump
pen pro lit tarry hit might undergo
an amazing transformation -
a cherished poem plump
with juicy fruit
weighing down the boughs
as if limbs ready to slump.

Continue reading...

— The End —