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JM Romig Apr 2014
21st Century Haiku Part III
summer in the park
kids hopscotching on pavement
dad checking email

the oldest known song
carved on a lover's tombstone
- “pretty much YOLO”

digital tombstone
her face no longer ages
she is immortal

relaxed at the beach
at home - panicking mother
phone dwells in the lake

so long out of touch
childhood friends reunited
- thank god for Tinder!
Napowrimo 27/30
#haiku #fun #senryu #napowrimo #part #3
Continue reading...
nic Jul 2012
Jericho and Fireflies
i was born under
a pennsylvania moon                
in the middle of jericho.

where all the walls
had decided
they were done
being womb                              
and crumbled to the blow
of winter winds.

i was whisked out of
from my cocoon
too soon                                  
and spent weeks
piped to feed and breath
for me.

the moment
they let me out                          
i moved back forth.

i have been hopscotching
from city to city
since 06
and thus have forgotten
how to play dominoes.
or cards or do puzzles
or anything done sitting still
because the rhythm                                
of my life
doesn't allow me
to squat for too much
longer than the linger
of my scent cross these sheets
so i've learned
to sink in deep while i can

place my print in
these pillow tops
before the moon drops              
and its moving day again.

i find it hard
to be me sometimes.
too busy trying                          
be a resident.

sometimes i pretend
im a committed writer
but come on,
****** spend more time
trying to pair their                      
tops and shoes
then i do
scraping these wounds
over screens
letting ink bleed.

i'm just not
consistent enough                  
to hold a title.

i'm only a student
til the summer
so don't try and teach
me in july.
there are summer sins                
that i wont even
begin to learn from
til autumn starts to
reek of jansports
and gym clothes.

i'm only the baby
on holidays.
only hear from all
3 sisters when courtesy            
twists our wrists
and force fingers
to remember phone numbers
filed under family.

so i cant believe
when ****** still
text me good mornings.
there's been so many
since we've last talked            
and the last time
we walked the same grounds
i switched my route
and pretended
i didn't see you.

ashamed i let you
think there was
room in my inconsistency.
should've warned you
not to bring your pillow          
cause there's little
chance ill still
like you in the morning.

those sunrises can be            
so haunting.

when the sun
is so low
its shape is tombstone          
how could i not
bring up those bones
in my closet?

i cant answer your call
today because                      
we were never meant
to last past 24 hours.

that's like two fireflies
trying to keep                        
their glow past dawn.
don't you find it pointless?

i have learned
to harvest as much as i can
before the season ends        
and the infatuation                          
turns to wrinkles
and withers.

alysia once said
poets love love
because love is life
and we're
afraid of death
so we create                      
between where we
are and were
and where we were going
but i am here.

standing in a shower
trying to scrape
these postage stamps
off my corners                  
cause cargo holds
haven't been
all that good to me.

i've been packaged
and stamped and
boxed and shipped me    
more times than i'll admit
because honesty
doesn't drip off your lips
as easily as blood
when you hit maturity
and are taught
to bite your tongue.

the only roots i have
were sowed                  
in my convictions      
so i'm destined to roam
everywhere except
in my faith.

my sister knows
of my wishes
to never have to wilt        
beneath mahogany.
i want to be cremated
when i die.
i want to be fire fly.
bathed in the bright
of a thousand fireflies
in a daytime thunderstorm
to make up for lost time.

but don't
scatter my remains.
sit me in a vase
on the end
of your mantle            
with a candle
and ill pray
for you're stability
for all the days
i spent in transit.

after living all those years
in solidarity                    
with the wind
i'd at least like to
spend my sleep
in one spot.
Continue reading...
Reece AJ Chambers Dec 2012
Carnation
I want to feel those feelings,
those indefinable feelings
of hopscotching
towards it,
one foot in front of the other
to experience
the maudlin aqua-eyed
moments in rain,
jeans
and midnight skirts.

Taking every step necessary
to evade black lakes
down your cheeks,
hot blood on my fingertips.

And there'd be a song,
cordial and soft
on the piano,
delicate
like carnation petals,
writing lyrics
on each other's arms
in multi-coloured ink,
letters that hop
up to our elbows.

How to feel what it's like
with another one,
opposite and the same
all at once.

Cheerful dreams,
placid days
on streets, in homes
with brown drinks,
single and un-single friends
who say 'I knew you two would...'
and to show our love
our hands would touch
and our lips would touch
and the lights would rise.
Written: December 2012.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time, also available on my WordPress blog (the last poem of mine on there for the foreseeable future).
Continue reading...
Keith Ren Sep 2010
a little silly
lovers are red
oceans are blue
i love the waters
and they love me too

the neatness of fire
the warmth of the you
the simple equations
i work out for you

the angel numeric
may fit in my stride
this kid in your presence
is hopscotching wide

this naif out of training
has nothing to do
but write little sillies
that may be for you
who knows the difference
between to
and fro
Continue reading...
Jacob Sykes May 2013
Headline Deadline
convincing consumers that “v” is for vineyard
not *****
no quick or easy choices
gin, tonic and a dash of restraint
mom’s advice to quit got Tumblr started

we must get rid of inefficient economic sectors
learning to give one item at a time reviving the soviet tradition
Sharing the siege mentality
cheekily hopscotching across genres

tell me how this ends
prison time was dreadful, but he sure likes the video
pain can make them feel alive
in 1949
he imagined an age of robots
at 94, still charting memory’s depths
imagining a grim past that isn't his own

semi-invisible sources of strength
milewide tornado strikes Oklahoma
2 FBI hostage rescue agents die in training exercise in sea
a genre, old and Irish,is renewed
but wait
didn't yahoo try a deal like this before
How about slow play, drugs and Phrankenwoods
This is a procedural poem I did for my poetry class. These are all headlines from three days of the New York Times. I made sure to use the full text of the headline or, if the text was split into two sentences, a full sentence from the headline. I then arranged them in such a way that each stanza was a congruent full thought and not complete utter nonsense. This will become longer as I acquire more newspaper.
Continue reading...
RJ Days Feb 2017
Playground Construction
No milquetoast kids dare summit jungle gyms
nor dream from monkey bars suspended
o’er perilous mulches, heads filled by the sanguine
rush of juvenile enthusiasm for garden hoses
bruised knees and peanut butter sandwiches;

Only august lad or lass may escape those sandboxes
to tumble into the cavernous ball pit of emancipation,
last dino bones dug up and whirling whispers
lost soon as spoken across merry-go-round envisioning
fantastic autumn nights that promised monsters

Forsaken mud pies dry and crack, no more edible
with juice box than without, hopscotching into
sportsball cartoon boom box jumprope Sunday songs
of Jesus midwest bedtime prayers, sincerest supplication
application for wellness heaven and bully protection

We seesaw through scraps of nostalgia, frolic
into slip-sliding wet hot summer drops to mask
messy tears, swimming defiantly away from repentance
but begging a little help from God to keep the rusty
swing set chains from breaking now as we push higher

Sure, it takes some work to build a playground right,
and what sign do we have it's safely been constructed?
for Sean
Continue reading...
F Jan 2019
once upon a time in social media land
i.
the blinds are bars
and the window is a rotating theatre
of people, life, the grind.

ii.
i behind it;
a twisted damsel in distress,
hopscotching around the puddles of my tears.

iii.
disconnect in the age of connectivity.
a broken wire frazzled and burned.
my hair is not long enough to escape.
how many likes did that picture get?
#depression #socialmedia #internet #attention #poem #poetry #hellopoetry #toxic #sad #sadness
Continue reading...
Laura Susan Smith May 2013
That Day and You
‘That day’, bed held, quiet, noisy in my ear,
elongated, like aeroplane entrails, skyward.
You were not embarking on any holiday I knew,
I caught your final sigh out of this life.

Cards pressed to chest, pupils tucked in.
“Is that blue or green?” you said, squinting,
your dealt cards outstretched toward me,
“Uno” you shouted, laughed, we did, you did.

Multi coloured swap shop, ripe mosaic fruits,
a smile of hearts. In the back room, fire flickering,
news parting my lips, tongued syllables locating
your body language........between proud arm rests.

Summer, warm, brown faded wooden bench
caught my skirt in its skin, splintered my hand.
Chasing, breathy, laughing, heat haze flooded
rosy cheeks.......we watched.

Hopscotching along without care; you told the
tale, you said... “Your cardy was swinging in the air”
you frantic, too frantic for weighty words,
worry warrior stamped across your forehead.
Continue reading...
Carlo C Gomez Mar 2020
Might I Have a Bit of Earth?
Mary, Mary
Quite contrary
Egressed from the East Indies
A lost child
Grief is a long hallway
With sketches of pain
Adorning the walls
Hope is a drawer
With a hidden key

Bottled-up
Mary Lennox
Jumps rope
Out in the cold
Hopscotching
And exploring
Follows the red robin
Enters the garden
Long forsaken
Befriending life within
Evoking life without
With the one exception
Of herself

Mary had a little plan
"Might I have a bit of earth?"
To plant
And to chant
To sow
And to grow
To return a loved one
To both father and son
To open the secret garden again
And feel the inner workings
Of her heart begin
#secret #garden #burnett #family #love #grief #death #rejuvenation
Continue reading...
Poetic T Jan 2016
Floet Of Seaons Change
Winters decay had fallen to springs
Majestic dance and what it brings.

Like fireworks of life each blooms
Avid colour bursts forth and resumes.

Awoken bees flutter busily gathering
Nectar as hopscotching while travelling.

Gusts collect scents of summer collide
I sit quietly taking in beauty outside.

A kaleidoscope of beauty before my eyes
Watching the colours mingle my soul flies.
Continue reading...
Keith Ren Oct 2011
Turner
I'm just another madman
hopscotching the park,
and frightening away all of the birds.

But instead of those movements
which are frenzied and true,
I scare with warm intention of word.
Continue reading...
John Edward Smallshaw May 2015
The resistance
I have my eyes on the day that will never arrive or at least I see what I can't see that's how I survive the endless games, the hopscotching through the deserts and plains, my eyes see some distance but not far enough and it's tough here but here's where I am.

The day that will never arrive is a story that's told to the feeble and old and it keeps them from fretting about never forgetting their age.

I have a plan to escape before it's too late but not knowing when too late will be, I hesitate, play more games, find I'm locked in the cycling of chains, is this what they call the fall?

The fall is quite gentle, a soft rippling through the membranes and a full stop at the bottom or the end, it feels like a soft rain on my forehead where the love lost is not dead but stands waiting with an umbrella to hand.

I have my eyes and I see that the arrival will be a party time for old friends and the families that never end in the days that will never arrive.
Continue reading...
Jack P May 2019
keratin
living in fear of the allostatic load
hopscotching tire marks on a bare and open road
do we drag down this life to where life dare not go?
we are living in fear of the allostatic load.

if 'when' is an if, and 'if' is a when
then what's never happened will happen again
the one-armed men will count upwards to ten
on phantoms taken by the allostatic load.

(of hair: massage scalp, condition, brush regularly, dry gently - keep what is lost in fistfuls, dead hard protein, dead fast head spins)

when limbs give way under the allostatic load
softened up by atrophy
trapped under the debris of a broken home
familiar hands will come for me.
we can hold hands if we promise, to go to the same place, at the same exact time
#fear #pressure #stress
Continue reading...
matthew scott harris Aug 2018
Mine Nightmare With Social Anxiety,...
Now Mostly Purged

Decades removed when body electric
felt tortured reverberated, and quaked
with MegaDeath repercussions tattooing,
piercing, foisting, ensnaring, drubbing

drum beat indelibly 'pon psyche NON
MEMORABLE years gone bye felled
psyche with incorporation, viz alphabet
chromed facebook, poetry soup of physio

logical symptoms i.e. clammy palms,
heart palpitation, irritable bowel
syndrome, nausea, vertigo, et cetera (aside
from above, I felt great) erupted bitta bing,
bitta band tore rent cleaving, coping and

crimping Matthew Scott Harris asunder
forcefully endearing themselves like Dasher,
Dancer, Prancer, *****, Comet, Cupid,
Dinner broke repast and Blitzen) hopscotching

(hither and yon, to and fro) from one
University to another well nigh, particularly
when paying a visit to college cafeterias,
(an unpleasant effect explaining termination

umpteen post high school institutions, I
matriculated), especially when hungry hordes
(like angry birds, long fostered century21
apes, or madding crowds of students rushing

to lunch line, swelling sea of Muslims, or
Christian crusades of yore - NO INTENT
TO INSULT belief, credo, dogma, et cetera)
practically stampeding their way en route

to the Hajj) clamored to be fed sustenance,
or spiritual succor respectively, but no sooner
did this then rather bony gluteus maximus
became situated at table (often whereby quick

exit could be made in predictable panic stricken
outcome pierced and hammered me with gut
wrenching agony), the medley of organic
constriction of throat re: named asphyxiation,

furiously pounding ma poor heart, churning
out hormonal adrenaline secretion, sans flight
or fight, strong sensation, qua regurgitation
(despite likelihood my bowels recently purged,

per diarrhea courtesy of irritable gastrointestinal
stress), disallowed even one morsel to appease
thine palette, essentially salad days, whereat
never did this liberal minded scrivener get

trampled underfoot, but he experienced
physical manifestations entailing great
discomfort probably on par with devout
pilgrimage to holy shrine of Mecca whar wren

twittering within labyrinth of this mortal
being i.e. christened Matthew Scott Harris,
hid unseen live, googly-eyed, earth-linked,
mailer daemons resounded with flickr, Go

Daddy, hulu, instagramming, joyous, kick
starter, pinterest ting, shutterfly ying, snap
chatting, tinder quiet riot chorus of their
unheard whatsapp penning yahoo kindling

the trip wire of ****** perspiration, laceration
(stinging tips of metallic caw, pelting whipping,
and zinging reflexively upon me body electric
weighed down with glow ball chain) induced

hallucination prodding sphincter muscle to go
into overdrive vis a vis via defecation, (irritable
bowel ran dire re:yah rampant) creating one
wasted wreck of a human abomination kept

in check sum i.e. sigma notation from unsuspecting
observer, herewith ends general figurative broad-
brush stroke pertaining to collective soul asylum
wrenching episodes does injustice to panic attacks.
Continue reading...
Carl Velasco Mar 2019
Restlessness
My valleys bleed blue. They rhyme under only
The language of summer, coarse and sticky.
A droplet, spineless trees, baked mahogany.
A piece of clothing soaked in water
hangs at night on a beam, begging for mercy.
It's been many years since I had
A clear head. Tonight I watch the sway
then swallow the sway, and the sway is in me.
It feels like magic foam fluttering here, or
kids hopscotching and the noises they make.
Do not question now, only wait. It ends when it ends.
Do not catch up now. A handsome sky pauses
Your song to try and say, dance without it.
You can. It is there, the sway. Even in summer; in coarse,
sticky summer.
after D. Mueenuddin
Continue reading...
matthew scott harris Jun 2019
I got arrested!... further developments await...
By gravity said law
linkedin with physics
stating that a body at rest
will remain thus unless otherwise
acted upon by an external force,

hence I cannot wrest motion
from inert human matter
regarding nearly lifeless entity
concerning how aye barely breathe
heavily weighed down

with lugubriousness easily crushing
this seventy two inch
rusty, cowardly, creaky...
complex corporeal edifice,
thus resigning myself

watching flight of bumblebee
hopscotching from one
clover plant to another
wondrous winged warrior
unphased by human "rat race"

higglety pigglety,
pell mell, helter skelter,
how grand living off the grid
venerating native flora and fauna
simply engrossed with daily tasks

solely attending
basic inalienable rights
life, liberty, pursuit of happiness
keeping stereotypical roles intact
males species pact schedule

hunting in tandem
with brotherly comrades
females tending hearth and home
tendering, safeguarding, nesting...
homeschooling offspring

supervising fledgling,
the latter gingerly venturing
tentatively into parts unknown
unfamiliar territory brimming
trained instincts detect danger,
nonetheless plod along

blueprinted genetically
inherent migratory paths
guides where uncertainty looms
within wide whirring web
invoking, feigning camouflage,
or mimicking ("FAKE")
simulating another organism.
Continue reading...
matthew scott harris Sep 2019
Incomprehensible space/time continuum intrigues...
One insignificant, infinitesimal
incomprehensibleness cosmic speck,
who doth readily confess
swallowed within

infinite cosmic wormhole, nonetheless,
he feels mind boggled, fascinated,
transfixed... helpless to express
following concept suddenly
gripping his feeble mental compass.

I haint never gonna get
smart enough to understand
supposedly how universe
under contract to expand
subscribers embracing divine
intervention ascribe to invisible hand
cosmographical phenomena defies

garden variety **** sapien
understanding schema so grand
feeble analogy whereby
Neanderthal apt to understand
lingual mechanics predicated
I grammatically, markedly, pointedly...
exclaim with ampersand.

No particular reason nor rhyme
prompted contemplation
Einsteinian/ Stephen
Hawking concepts sublime

defy one average guy
way past his prime
ideal, optimal, universal... time
to fortify i.e. cognitive ability
brewing, immersing, steeping... gray matter

within astrophysicist clime,
now punishing ignorance mime
limited aptitude climb
stymied best taught during childhood

undoubtedly education pioneer - Haim
Ginott speculate would even
advocate buzzfeeding fetus
with intelligent boosting enzyme.

I chomp at the metaphorical bridled bit
and chafe not being genius like Trump pit
ing president (gag me with a spoon),
and lemme don pith helm mitt
this crash test dummy, whit
no shadow of doubt ready to quit

human race if said nitwit
nabs 20/20 election twit
tilling, spindling, mutilating,
fondling... constitutional sacred writ
issuing dynastic emperor gambit
hastening cremated ashes (mine)

launched into distant orbit
bajillion light years
careering, hopscotching, zipping
eventually reincarnated into runny Babbit
ironically enslaved for profit
blindly obedient dagnabbit,

indentured as intergalactic caddy
fired while under probation as apprentice
up Paul ling lee forced to exit
Sartre's stage door left sporting
embarrassing MAGA prison outfit
hustled away courtesy
as laughingstock exhibit.

Thus, I helm ship of state into black void
alone within cosmos, yes...overjoyed!
Continue reading...
John Edward Smallshaw May 2019
Circulation zero.
These are the strangest of times,
hopscotching our way through
carefully laid mines,
shelled by the left, machine gunned
by the right,
some might think it a war,
that's a fact
being constantly attacked,
it's no fun being on the other end
when the other end's a gun.

These are the strangest
of times.
Continue reading...
matthew scott harris Nov 2020
Remembrance of Boyce Brandon Harris
Circa April 9th 1929 - October 7th 2020
gratitude wells up inside me
middle grown child begat
reproductive assiduity Boyce and Harriet Harris,
who flashes back and forth
analogously hopscotching gamut of time
comprising thee dearly departed dada.

Affirmations galore
(regarding superlative traits)
beg to pour forth with utmost zeal
toward thee recently deceased papa
memorialized till eternity
as Earth turns round the sun
tracing an approximate orbital wheel.

Despite unpleasant days of yore,
when ye and mama did bellow
at nonestablishmentarian offspring (me),
an average dude with attitude (purse lips)
courtesy passive resistance
billy me, he idly exhibited his rebel yell
harbored aversion at receiving end
of parental red hot anger,

while sulking and swallowing pride
behind bedroom door
experienced paternal rejection
pitiful exemplar of mine de facto failure,
I fell short (just 5'10'')
of even nada so great expectations
immobilized by fear

to risk trusting instinctual ability
particularly livingsocial independently,
viz electric kool aid acid test
forfeiting, buzzfeeding kickstarting
requisite metamorphosis into adult
starkly aware how ye accrued
major accomplishments whereby
late twenties/early thirties

found thee owning successful career
at General Electric (as mechanical engineer)
proud homeowner (Lantern Lane, Audubon)
eventually purchasing property at 324 Level Road,
which latter abode ye did transform
into resplendent work of art,
where family and friends stood agape.

Examples of native talents included:
Begetting three progeny
expending blood, sweat, and tears
to craft multitude of projects;
i. amassing wood pile(s),
to stoke wood burning stoves

ii. designing Zayda trail for Teddy and Ruff
(two doggone mixed breed Border Collies
rescued courtesy Shari Todd Harris
at her Jacobsburg, Penna work site)
iii. constructing sauna in cellar,
iv. etching, detailing (ala fresco),
v. plus trimming living room ceiling,
vi. shingling (while fiddling) on the roof,

vii. tiling the kitchen floor,
viii. building a cistern for brethren,
ix. wood paneling many rooms,
x. building custom made toy chest,
xi. stringing up lights to increase visibility
driveway lit like Christmas tree after dark,
xii. partly assembled a kayak,

xiii. retooling - enhancing porch
(formerly slate covered),
where Morris dancers performed
at Amelie Beth Harris wedding
(upon which eldest adopted
hyphenated McGeehan
as her surname - ~ June 1990.

Multipotentiality oozed
from your every ****** cell
while please (Billy) me idle son
(yours truly) idolized ye
more'n he never did tell,
yet envied thee dear papa,
who exuded indomitable strength

even amidst most devastating loss
death of beloved Bubba, your soulmate
after she succumbed stricken with terminal illness,
whose grievous hardship
handwritten within notebooks
designated as Book 1, Book 2, and Book 3
accidentally discovered ex post facto,
when Amelie rifled thru personal materials.

Now week five after departure to Netherlands
I ask thee a question; Remember me?

One singular, (albeit married) male offspring
christened Matthew Scott Harris
praises of mine father, I sought to sing
poetically, cuz I feel honored
chance genetic dice throw
prayerfully finds ye now zipping off
upon trumpeting political left wing.

The sudden emotional
black hole (sunless) void
exploits, fuels, and generates
sadness begging, dredging, forcing forth
deserved accolades, which
reverberate, resonate and repopulate

at lightspeed prized papa stole by grim reaper
writhing, spindling, mutilating,
fondling, and agonizing absent presence
torturous reminder, viz mine mein kampf
whipsawing, sabotaging, and jackknifing
ability garden variety and generic son to function.

Hasta la vista August father - ferried I know not where
yet..., your distinct voice whispered my name I swear,
though infinite distance betwixt us unreachable ne'er
will thee be forgotten, a stupified melancholy daze
since ye departed inconsolable sobbing (mine) hear?

The finality of life, liberty,
and pursuit of happiness on Earth
writ small within constituent genetic material
seemingly, a lifetime away at birth
chronological dial spun ninety one
orbitz round nearest star well worth
fluke happenstance of events

begetting memorable times of mirth
starting while in utero
expanding mommy's girth
fast forward to meself being old fogey
settled by the crackling hearth
reminiscing treasuring dearth
of scant times with recently deceased papa.

The Princess and the Pea
starring Harriet Harris
courtesy Norristown, Pennsylvania Barn Playhouse
in the Park thespians
did bring down the house
whereby valiant prince
forever warmed her cockles and muscles.
Continue reading...
matthew scott harris Sep 2023
Fretfully aching to feel fit as a fiddle
After experiencing a severe,
albeit violent near lethal bout
of irritable bowel syndrome
(yesterday night August 30th, 2023)
triggered courtesy dulcolax caplets plus
healthy portion of lentils,
I (a beatle browed, foo fighting,
night ranger needing nirvana)
imperiled me to twist and shout
as a whirling dervish analogous
to F5 tornado bread a deep purple
to kiss earth, wind and fire
hopscotching across terrestrial plain.

Irritable bowel syndrome
in my pinion wracked
lower abdominal area (mine)
bubbled, gurgled and ballooned
sub stomach gastrointestinal tract
vis a vis flatulence crooned
in tandem with subsequent expulsion
explosively eliminated ***** waste
witnessed this scribe forcibly
zipping, sprinting, jetting to bathroom,

self propulsion (a race against time)
nsync with contraction of sphincter muscles'
spasmodically, desperately braced
body electric of mine hurled
at light speed across the universe
courtesy unpleasant symptoms
that mimicked anxiety/ panic attack,
which tortuousness, odorousness, insidiousness,
horrendousness, gaseousness, arduousness...
played mean game of (gastrointestinal
knick knack paddywhack havoc.

Ofttimes in the past
irritable bowel syndrome
affrighted, afflicted, and affected me,
hence yours truly no stranger
to making light of offal plight
and even managing to craft poem
else my alias not mister rhyme stir,
who found himself held hostage
self barricaded in the water closet,
where thoughts about mooning

did not crack a smile,
more explicitly baring derriere
tubby more exact
humor did little to cheer me up -
matter of fact
no source of laughter manifested,
(despite usual presence of chuckles
from this fan of good humor) hijacked
for what seemed a maternity leave
from all mothers tub be

thus envision, a bevy of pregnant gals
aching with cramps heave
ving (times square of the hippopotamus)
with ****** fully dilated key
ping alert, when mother nature ready
to pull out all stops (via umbilical cord)
to deliver bundle of joy followed
in quick succession with after birth re:
placental sack, hence
said effort to expel newborn

the closest scenario
experienced ill suited
to Saint Vitus dance
afflicting this anxiety prone
lovely bones, an all expense
paid (seat of the pants)
accursed bane of proletariat grants
no truce to attend
found me pampered doubled over stance.

Modus operandi to distract
against acute pain crisis
yielded impossible mission
exhibited courtesy haphazard poem  
awaiting unsolicited feedback
across rock of ages woke
beguiling ghostly ***** spectre
courtesy Marie-Antoinette,
(i.e. bride of France's arty choke
King Louis XVI) bespoke

let him eat cake, and (sic)
send back the ****** bloke,
aye suddenly begot idea rye
Jack Corner of zee desk
didst impale and provoke
moderately painful injury
right side rib cage
analogous to intriguing
unfortunate circumstance
mysterious secret shrouded

as dagger and cloak
(think Alfred E. Neuman,
viz MAD Magazine), yes no joke
lovely bones of me body electric,
(particularly right side rib cage)
severely traumatized, nailed, injured...
crucified oft told umteen times,
yet omitting key mirrors and smoke,
significant Dorian Gray parallel,
when former antique,

viz secrétaire looking glass reflection,
spider hairline fractures radiated
resembled bay of pigs in a poke
ham handedly oinked,
quaked, shattered... broke
into bajillion pieces
deafening, exploding,
glowering thunder stroke
jagged shrapnel size shards
unleashed cosmic force
lacerated, gnashed, beribboned...

impeaching flesh with
one engulfed masterstroke,
no rhyme nor reason aiming to choke
off promising poet (ha) of corpse
resembling scrambled egg yolk
posthumous fame besmoke
salvaged mine besmirched reputation
courtesy humble cartoon character
bugs bunny and kinfolk spoke
daffy fully goofily
eulogizing humor did evoke.
Continue reading...
ymmiJ Sep 2019
Untitled
falling rain again
puddles collecting curbside
hopscotching around
Continue reading...
matthew scott harris Mar 2022
Mine unending nightmare with crippling generalized anxiety
Triggered to skyhigh elevated state
when I received communiqué
courtesy management warden
christened and otherwise
known as Jackie Geiger
dated March 9, 2022.

She averred fruit fly infestation
constituted lease violation,
which could spell eviction
since said issue involving
Drosophila melanogaster
necessitated costly
exterminator intervention
subsequently delivered resultant
severe savage psychological strafing

regular panic attacks (analogous
to EF5 tornadoes
the highest category
on Enhanced Fujita Scale)
unleashed with punishing
alimentary canal winds
i.e. lower gastrointestinal expulsions,
which prescription medication
ineffective to subdue.

Suddenly relatively short lived respite
abruptly ended moderate freedom
feeling diabolically tortured
returned with a vengeance
measuring reprieve in months
and years removed
when body electric
felt tortured reverberated, and quaked
with repercussions...tattooing, piercing,
ensnaring... drubbing drum beat indelibly

'pon psyche NON MEMORABLE years
gone bye felled psyche with incorporation,
viz alphabet facebook, poetrysoup of
physiological symptoms i.e. clammy
palms, heart palpitation, irritable bowel
syndrome, nausea, vertigo,
et cetera (aside
from above, I felt great)
erupted bitta bing,
bitta band tore rent cleaving, coping and

crimping Master scribe
harnesses words as
Zeus employs thunder
forcefully endearing themselves like Dasher,
Dancer, Prancer, *****, Comet, Cupid,
Donner and Blitzen) hopscotching
(hither and yon,
to and fro) from one
University to another
well nigh, particularly
when paying a visit
to college cafeterias,
(an unpleasant effect

explaining abrupt termination
umpteen post
high school institutions,
I matriculated), especially
when hungry hordes
(like angry twittering birds,
long fostered century21
apes, or madding crowds
of students rushing
to lunch line for their seconds

analogous to swelling sea of
crusaders of yore - practically
stampeding their way
clamoring to be fed sustenance
or spiritual succor respectively,
but no sooner did this then
rather bony gluteus maximus
became situated at table
(often whereby quick
exit could be made

in predictable panic stricken
outcome pierced and
hammered me with gut
wrenching mental agony),
the medley of organic
constriction of throat
re: named asphyxiation,
furiously pounding
ma poor heart, churning
out hormonal adrenaline.
Continue reading...
matthew scott harris Nov 2021
November 13th, 2021 - Happy eighty sixth birthday
to my long deceased mom...
Harriet Harris née Kuritsky

My mother succumbed to a terminal illness
two score minus three orbitz passed away
no matter she fought tooth and nail
to keep ovarian/uterine cancer at bay
disease metastasized throughout major organs,
hence demise found grim reaper to carry
her Bag of Bones into The Dead Zone -
where Misery loves company
Four Past Midnight
well nigh seventeen
and a half years ago to the day
thus a flash in a bedpan idea flit
thru me mind setting task at hand
to forego bidding on eBay

and ruminate how she felt
knowing her end to be near, -
where her psyche did flay
with anger writhing at the injustice
to ****** thee lover of life
her deadened flesh became ashen gray
yet, a recurring memory
replays in my mind,
whereby this ordinarily
sole sunny trooper
blackened hole within her sons' psych
doth feebly booster morale
with a lame duck uttered hay
huzzah, but flashback to last moment

I saw mother, yet
merely stood mute in close proximity
within the kitchen of thee predominant
century old mansion stone
built home donned with English ivy
once glorious complex edifice
sans domicile razed
no stone left unturned
remains longer only in me noggin
twittering memories flutter
and tweet like a blue jay
keeping visage intact
the house (formerly known as Glen Elm)
at 324 level road,

Collegeville, Pennsylvania -
amazed at my ability to recall an okay
dough key mixed meadow
for with many emotions arising
from where siblings
and me did blessedly play
our oasis, a rural route number 2 -
or rd2 for short a constituent key
per our residence, which like a quay
Tsar seemed light years
removed from civilization,
a remnant tract of idyllic ray

dee hance, upon with open space slated
to become outfitted
and transformed into an urban stay
shin for mobile Americans hopscotching
as short term owners of a new home they
never knew what fractious
mother-son trials and tribulation,
now invisibly harbored and enshrined
forever pristine sanctuary
denominated secular way
down deep in thy conscious, which access
to retrieve nada so

excellent circumstances of youth
(oftimes meditating while dwelling
upon expansive roof
many an outlook raised)
on par with hop, jump,
or skipping to Uruguay
but nothing can recreate
and make real one again
deconstructed house where dwelt pangs
of pre and post adolescence
no matter I mouth
and soundlessly mutter oy vey
till the cows come home,

cuz the days of boyhood,
teenage and emerging adulthood
(matter of fact, this heir -
overstayed his welcome)
accentuated courtesy corrosive
contumely contretemps
thus ambivalent feelings
doth owe way
kin this day of the month
every year the aura, charisma,
and persona delighting like galena zany
persona, thine late mother of pearl

and milk of human kindness
yes, this cingular male offspring doth miss
when he gives pause (all faux),
thus aye scrawl this poetic mini opus
knowing full well,
ye will never be cognizant,
but cathartic to press
any black key (on this laptop)
and expunge thru
Times New Roman font size 12
discombobulated words

buffeted bitta bing bitta bang
in situ jewel flowing emotions
akin to Rapunzel unfurling long tress
buffeted by the war wren inside mine being
for love unspoken, I confess
and tis thru fatherhood
(which beautiful granddaughters
ye would marvel) despite obloquy
when ye and papa de address
me in harsh terms, but objectionable traits
wove within mein kampf DNA less

or more, and angst riddled
body, mind and spirit
rent asunder with emotional duress
essentially encoded within
the twisted sisterly chromosome strands
that wrought Matthew Scott Harris,
now the boss and master
of his own psychological domain,
whereat he closes with mum --
I feel terrible ye got angry and cross!
Continue reading...
matthew scott harris Oct 2022
Harris fortitude went awol
lest ye seek alms
with outfaced palms
just imagine
how the lantern shone  
against the knees of Archelaus,
and lit up the check-board pattern
of the eleemosynary trousers

Fatigued civilian attires reasonable rhyme
challenging readers to dare themselves
question yours truly what ranks as
unleashing trademark punishing crime.

Words worth more'n fine spun gold
courtesy those considering themselves literate,
perhaps recipients of countless laurels extolled,
nevertheless mediocre (ha) logophile
crafts poem(s) inducing scold.

Dire straits force me to abide
the law of self preservation
and espouse with permission granted
by Bedřich Smetana
to abscond with bartered bride
think infamous American robbery team
Bonnie and Clyde
responsible for a 21-month
crime spree from 1932 to 1934

as analogous nefarious
transgression in league with human
author of mine verse, thus thee decide
to befriend bipedal hominid,
who scours earthwide
(and if necessary extending search
beyond outer limits of twilight zone,
where dark shadows
slink along the edge of night)

for fine prairie home companions
ideally from Lake Woebegone,
or outliers with documentation falsified
turning to humble **** sapien
as their spiritual guide,
he will be game and willingly surrender
mine Yankee doodling dandy buttucks,
his posterior gluteus maximus hide
if he falls short of promise

to bring webbed wide world bliss
witnessed as emasculation
toward himself intensified
cuz truth be told
interpersonal connections
allow, enable, and provide
kinetic, opportunistic, rhapsodic,
and universalistic joyride.

All decked out like one base 2 ace
of spades, or king of hearts
traveling at lightspeed thru cyberspace
traveling as binary unit with amazing grace,
the zeros flickering like a moonface
hopscotching between nodes uptrace
sing journey across the Internet.

Many a favorite YouTube tutorial venue
represent virtual re: digital haunts I review
to bolster pulling myself up by bootstraps
such sites out of webbed wide world
include basic digital electronics,
computer networking fundamentals,
how transistors work, plus
miscellaneous other tidbits.
Continue reading...
Mrs Timetable Feb 2020
George on the skateboard
So many things racing

Running through my mind

They could try skipping

Or twirling

Or hopscotching once in a while

Or maybe monkey on a skateboard

Need I say more
When worries just won’t stop
#anxiety #stress
Continue reading...
matthew scott harris May 30
Doubting thomas doth hanker to live in (or share)...
a house without gossips nor gonifs with the missus

Maybe a pair of stray eyes
will alight on my post
might subsequently manifest destiny
as a positive force
to help me secure
a moderately roomy dwelling place
whereby we hang figurative hats
(the writer of these words,
and his partner in rhyme - ha),
would feel ever so grateful
carriage house, domicile,
pied-à-terre, et cetera

to till and sow the land,
(a manageable sized garden patch)
harvesting the fruits and vegetables
blanching, canning, pickling,
preserving, et cetera
experiencing collective soulful
labor of love
witnessing a bumper crop
(of so called weeds - ha again)
sharing with family and friends
that which gets produced
videre licet sweat of our brow.

After moving out
from 324 Level Road
(after overstaying welcome, -
and wearing out welcome mat
which parents of mine made
quite evidently clear
as their second born and singular son
struggled acquiring
and maintaining gainful employment
as well as hopscotching
from one college/university o another
plus qualifying to get enrolled
into various and sundry
county training programs.

After the then girlfriend (eventual wife)
blithely forewent using birth control,
no surprise when she
discovered herself with child,
which expedited shotgun wedding
and necessitated us
to seek out accommodations,
which we luckily
found in Hatfield, Pennsylvania
only to quickly discover
the presence of water bugs
that did congregate underneath the sink.

Though yours truly rented
that first said apartment
than when lease did NOT get renewed,
a few other different units
within southeastern
Montgomery County, Pennsylvania
throughout livingsocial
on this oblate spheroid
threescore and five orbitz
around the sun,

nevertheless a homing instinct
wired into these lovely bones, who recalls
with fond memories the residence,
where this sexagenarian spent
his growing up years
(long since razed
and replaced with vinyl city -
cookie cutter place of residence courtesy
Gambone brother building contractors.

An electronic SOS broadcast
on a wing and a prayer
if for no other reason
than to offer a doodling yankee
the pleasure to craft
a wish upon a star poem
but stark realization
raises an ugly head
reminding self proclaimed
(Shakespearean scribe - ha a third time)

hemmed in courtesy
severely pinched financial circumstances
in tandem whereby sole income,
and affordability to move into
other than low rural development
low-income housing facility and most likely
(bereft of life insurance)
unwittingly saddled
with fees associated with cremation,
the least costly to wallet and environment.
Continue reading...
matthew scott harris Apr 14
Unsettling premonition kickstarts fiendish abomination
Consider the following
dogmatic, enigmatic, fantastic,
idiotic, jargonistic, kimetic, linguistic,  
narcissistic, opportunistic,
poetic, quixotic, rhapsodistic,
scholastic, transformistic,
universalistic agglomeration
as an abbreviation
overactive imagination
wrought demonic manifestation

unaware reading dictionary
could engender garrison housing
Century 21 ghostly conjuration
paranormal shenanigans this
Lake Wobegon resident
grudgingly attests perturbation
disembodied spirit betook
(analogous to Casper
the friendly ghost)
"FAKE" spooky introduction

primarily cause ethereal
phantom of the opera mine
diaphanous doppelganger actualization
forcing agonizing confrontation
blindly highlighting spectacular illumination
constituting undeniable declaration,
whereby stagnant existence
aligned stark juxtaposition
courtesy faux charade, escapade, facade...,
gimcrackery literary affectation

yielded (still does) negation
to befriend prospective logophile,
essentially begetting immediate amputation
as posited a posteriori said acquisition
regarding, kneading, experiencing...
inclusiveness feeling reviled discrimination
foisted linkedin with nonestablishmentarian
progressive, liberal, agnostic Unitarian
paradigm upbringing birth parents
decreed ideal articulation

to foster independent cogitation
among yours truly, and his two sisters,
at one time felt veneration
marble lustrous bead
felt towards (guess who) second born
only brother gifted with affliction
diagnosed recent as
schizoid personality disorder,
a mental health condition,
whereat emotional affinity

toward kin folk sundered
buzzfeeding self cannibalization
predicated on inchoate
in utero causation
insync with adaptation
(actually Putin on Ritz key conspiracy
incorporating Russian collusion)
in tandem with basket of deplorables
little rock and rolling
witnesses regeneration

frothy heady windblown
dyed in wool Taj Mahal size
pompadour toupee coronation
ego freezing troll defies decapitation
barley bubbling within hopscotching
mucky swamp characterization
capital hillbilly Phoenix
resembling archeopteryx alights
shrill screeching, digging lame talons
into trumpeting paunchy underbelly.
Continue reading...
Tom Shields Oct 2020
Howard Unruh
My prose is apropos of being dead inside, a ghost in the flesh connected to souls

If there were ninety seconds left for all life on earth, I’d fill my throat with blood and my neighbors with bullet holes

Achilles’ Heel is a heart so black it devours light, I drank from the River Styx so I could compose deathly flows

Substance sobriety, I’m crawling on broken glass, faded in alleyways on better days

All impropriety, failing outward and I don’t even have any class, supervised and never seen anyways

Can’t take for granted a second of my second chance, I don’t stand out and it feels like no one understands

What are you worth if your only real skill doesn’t pay, they say there’s staying power, I think it’s pretty clear the dynamic is the power is where the power stays

I’d be a dead man walking on my walk of death, if there were only twelve minutes left

I’d take twenty-six innocents’ innocence in a sense I’ve hopped the fence and haven’t been back since

They can never see that I was raised in captivity, a domesticated animal that was never meant to be

Tell me about myself, you mistake misery for humanity, recognition for empathy, rehearsed imitation for someone sharing experiences in your reality

Medicated and if they put a bottle of beer in arm's reach, I’ll proceed to drink everything I can get my hands on, until I black out, back out, throw up and act out, wake up with all my scatterbrains gone, dancing for dawn, to read my thoughts off the pavement, hopscotching where I'm chalked up, bet I look better drawn

Negative interest in sexuality and procreation, contractual obligations to relations, I’d rather impose dystopian culling to slow global warming for current and future generations

Cease all birth, send all at seventy-five off, the longer there are less all at once alive, the longer there is a place for all to survive

Seditious, **** every politician from the bottom to the top, butcher their families, domestic terrorists acting in sleeper cells, infiltrate the active military, become a cop, if I was president I would commit a ******/suicide on my cabinet in the Oval Office and leave only a note that says “Death to America!” to create chaos and anarchy, when does all the order stop

Hallucinations plague my imagination, my skin feels like a film that keeps me from the world around me lately, I want to leave the world with more than I’ve taken from it, but I’ll be lucky to leave with my life, let alone knowing I mattered, that they didn’t hate me, that being a loser isn’t the only thing those who remember my name relate to me.
write
please read and enjoy
Continue reading...
Jay earnest Aug 2020
Sep 16
at the point of giving no *****
Im a lost cause
I need community
and belonging

Im severed from my tribe
a talking head with a lizard brain
hopscotching over coals

The hardest part is going on when you've already made your grave

Are there still beautiful things
Continue reading...

— The End —