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Rob Sandman May 2016
Playin' games.
=============
Jay Text Sandman aka Skitz Text

Set the timer click click now the clock is tick tockin'.
I came to play the game. Like a KNIK KNAK knockin'.
Your rhyme flow is slow you know like PLAYDOUGH.
I gobble up fine rhymes like a HUNGRY HIPPO.
Like SUBBUTEO I kick it.
Shruggin' off your challenge like BUCKAROO kickin'..
..up ****. I sunk your BATTLESHIP.
You played out your game of CHARADES. That's it.
I dig deep in me rhyme dictionary.
You scrawl on the the wall like palsy PICTIONARY.
Not strugglin'. I'm jugglin' the rhymes in me head.
Slam dunk. KERPLUNK. Nuff said.
No, never. No way. Who am I kiddin'?
You know I got the rhymes. And I got the rhythm.
I confess. Like a game of CHESS.
Checkmate. No debate. Not a pretty pawn missin'. *  

It’s the end of the games like RIP,
I Multikill MC’s like COD,
Keep your mind on your MINECRAFT can’t catch me,
Cause Skitz is EC's Artillery,
droppin bombs watch the FALLOUT or you’re Dogmeat
FAR CRY from the old days of CRT
So your attempt is DOOMed best clear the room,
SWAT’s get Swatted Mic shotgun BOOM!,
Blast backdraft will destroy your CIV,
No cheat codes PAC em up MAN time to give,
RESPEC- to the PORTAL gun hangin’ on me hip,
You’ve got HALF a LIFE left faster than NO CLIP
But I said no cheatin’ Hackers get Hacked up,
No Multiplayer,cause you’ve no backup,
I’m glorying in the games we play,
Checkmate VS XBOX  pass to Jay.


Chorus
Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic and it's Jay to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.  

When I flex it's hectic. Like SCALEXTRIC.
Switch lanes to PERFECTION.
I've a MONOPOLY in this game.
Don't pass go. Go straight to jail.
You fall like DOMINOES. I leap like a salmon.
Tisk tisk. Big RISK. Now I have BACKGAMMON.
Stamina. A steady hand OPERATION.
Ace up me sleeve and I'm just playin' PATIENCE.
Got me POKERface on.
Read 'em and weep as the game plays on.
I got a dead mans hand but I animate the mic.
BULLDOGS charge. You know I'll reach the other side.
Back to me den.
Repeat after me like SIMON SAYS.
RED ROVER, RED ROVER. I call Jay over.
You think it's over ?
No my friend. *  

Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic Schizophrenic to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.  

This Steam Machine is heatin' up a treat
So don’t be TEKKEN the ****,just feel the beat,
This KOMBAT’s MORTAL to enemies,
But it’s a full HEALTH PACK to Fans of E.C.,
So OverClock your CPU,
get your Soundcard Jumpin like chimps in SIM ZOO,
drop DICE on ICE from here to Timbuktoo,
STREET FIGHTER’s and Writers BIOSHOCKin' you


Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic Schizophrenic to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.  

I SPY with my little eye.
Somethin' beginnin' with J. I let fly.
As your JENGA tower wobbles.
I smile. You drop tiles. Dropped your poxy box of SCRABBLE.
Look out. That could spell disaster.
Triple word score as the rhymes rip past ya. Blast ya.
Quick out the trap like The Flash playin' SNAP.
Check the lyrical master. *
As the Dungeon Dragon spreads his wings-lets fly
playin' the game the pied piper pies,
catch you rats in me MOUSETRAP its a snap,
"cause I wrote the rhymes that broke the bulls back"
I'm the KING OF THE HILL I got ya QUICKSCOPIN'
in THE SHADOWS OF MORDOR prayin' and hopin'
for a hero like MARIO to bust you loose,
Jay's SNAKE'n' up the LADDER time to twist the noose


Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic E.C. to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.  

What ya think ?              
Me rhymes kink, bend and fold like TWISTER.
A wicked rhythm like DOUBLE DUTCH. Skip, skip.
Like EVEL KNIEVEL. Flywheel spinnin'.
Rev it up. Dump the clutch.        
See me grinnin'. Knockin' down the pin and..
SPIROGRAPH lines in me rhyme. I'm spinnin..
..out of control. You can't cope with me GYROSCOPE.
I bring you back to the beginnin'.*

Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic E.C. to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.
Jay came up with this idea and tried to mention as many games we played as kids as he could fit in,when  he invited me onto the track I went more down the PC/Console game route,
let us know how many we missed!.
saw:

the adoration of the daddy,
as his red haired babes
leaned into
either side of him,
courtiers to a king
on the way to school this AM,
transfusing his magical super~fatherly,
by inhaling his special powers through
their nostrils, direct from his
broad and powerful brave-heart chest,
for use later in the wild jungle
of second grade
•••
an elderly gent whose walker rattled
with every lift and kerplunk on
the street~steppes of a dangerous city
for the brittle of bone and the easily dentable,
and the crowd that gathered round walking
at precisely the same pace he required
to make it across the widest boulevard
which was thirty seconds more than the
Dept. of Transportation's asinine calculations
and a miracle from Lourdes occurred -
not one horn honked in ire as the court
escorted their Long Live the King
safely across the street, as if
idiocy was like rain, against the law,
until after sunset as in Camelot

•••
an elegant germanic man,
in homburg and velvet collared overcoat,
taking care of sales and distribution of
newspapers and candy at the corner paper "stand"
while the elderly owner, whose partner~wife of
fifty years had recently passed, now had no one
but someone's pop whose was out
walking our cocker spaniel,
to tend the place while said candyman
obeyed nature's callings

and all his fans and friends who passed
on their way to the adjacent subway station,
exclaimed Erwin, Erwin what are you doing?
his twinkled crinkled eyes replied,
enjoying their puzzlement, laughingly saying
"making spare change"
•••
where I lived these little miracles occurred so frequently,
was told a story that the ministering angels
could not keep up with their duties,
complaining to the On High, who resoundingly loudly
commanded their silence! by reminding them that
all these, his creatures, were his own precious,
the reason for creation and why they were needed,
and the sum of all these small acts gave them their own
existential purpose, now angry at himself for loss of temper,
soft spoke as a parent and told them better,
hush my children, we have much to do!
•••
so now you impatiently need to know
why this scripture
came to be known as
$$$$$
for I was witness to all of this,
all on that day,
that was twenty fours hours long
across many hard hearted Hiroshima decades,
that made me
temporarily
the richest man in the world
a proud member of the collective of the false.
I push with all my might,
But my *******'s too tight.
I'm up all night,
Trying to conquer this fight.
I keep thinking it's going to be all right,
Stuck in a long plight.
Through my sight,
I see the brown and blue reunite.
Kerplunk.
wrote this while taking a dump.
Mark Wanless Aug 2016
Break the mold not your mind
Two different things really so close
Their breathing together
What is which you choose
No others job
Suffer/suffer      experience/suffer
Learn and live
Don't learn and live
Feel cause and effect
Yearn and seek
Stop yearning and be
One grain of sand
Precious universal jewel
All in all yin yang
Together rhythm creating
You perceive my excretions
I perceive your excretions
Thought volumes cosmos particles
Karma freedom
Top bottom side side
****** physical something moves
Light dancing
Body slow
X-ray fast
Rock solid
Not
Think thought thunk kerplunk
Think thought thunk kerplunk
Or
not
Terrin Leigh Jun 2016
some moments can only be described as
"aha" paired with a deep sigh of relief
or
"hmph" followed by a whimper of distress

precious memories of time that
can only seem to be reciprocated
with a guttural noise

"mmmmm" as she falls into
the arms of another who loves her

"aaeehhhhh" as ice water
satisfies thirst by the noon July sun

moans in childbirth,
yelps of fear,
grunts of rage,
whines between tears

swoosh as the end draws near

words run
they leave
just like everyone else
and yet,
I ponder
with words:
wordless beauty
Sometimes, we can't put life into words. Sometimes, it just is. Ironically, this poem uses words to capture the idea of moments in life that overwhelm our vocabulary.
Grame Rabbit Mar 2015
.
        A dandelion-yellow chick
        Lately has lost her smooth white cap
        With edges chipped out tap by tap
And peck by peck and tick by tick.

        She moves with careful steps between
        Her mother's not-too-careful strides,
        And with a careless foot collides,
And falls (kerplunk!) sans any teen.

        Today as small as a mother wren,
        She'll soon outsize a mother dove,
        Then shortly after will she prove        
A natural mother—a mother hen.
        
^ ^
Jamesb May 2023
Kerplunk the game has *****
Held in place by spikes
One draws,
Hoping the oppositions ball
Falls from the frame before your own,

Falling from favour with one
You love
One that you adore is much like that too,
With every conversation seemingly
Drawing another peg

My ball is barely in play any more,
I'm hanging by a thread,
Whichever move I make,
Whatever phrase I say,
No matter what the care or intent may be,

Will surely be

Ker

PLUNK
Bored of these games
Screwball scrabble your monopoly
I'll take the risk not pass go or bow to authority

I wanna Poke your face with a hot poker
Just to see your poker face  
I might just be a pawn but the queen's I have to chase

And who would of thunk
I lost all my marbles
When I went and played kerplunk
My battle ship sunk
And it's now not the rope swing
I want hang from that tree trunk

So check mate this was my only first draughts
The mouse has been trapped warhammer's looking for a blood bath on the warpath

So don't go and pin the tail on the donkey
Coz' you might get a buckaroo though
But look for the clue'do
And you might find more
But only if your a hungry hippo and can find the hidden meanings in theese words and connect all four
TiffanyS Jan 2014
Perfection
Jenga
Blockhead
Risk
Twister
30 seconds
Kerplunk
Luck of the Draw
People come into your life to build you up just so they can tear you down.
betterdays May 2014
a monkey
from a barrel
once said to me,
can you appreciate
the absurdity
of a life
run on
the
collation
of wealth.
scrabbling
to find a monopoly.
not caring for
individuality
just racing
to be the last
man standing.
"numero uno"
grandstanding
with a poker face,
always having
to win the race.
hungry hippo,
grasping, grasping
all the time.
no patience for
games,
even life.
just running the board
playing chess,
all the time.
just waiting for the
mousetrap to fall,
kerplunk.
then just left  to
pick up the sticks,
to deal the cards,
for a game of  
go fish.
the mind just
boggles,
at the thought
of the frantic images wrought
by the monkey
and the mind games
he played
so i stuffed him back
in the barrel
where
he now
stays
he
and
his
bamboozling
jigsaw
puzzle
patter.
betterdays Dec 2014
on this day
when the sky
resembles god's bellybutton
filled with fuzzy
only he knows
where it comes from lint

and the ground, sodden
and squelchingly muddy
and puddles abound

on this day....we look to
each other and find old
board games and puzzles to
play...kerplunk, unbarrelled
monkeys...snakes and ladders.....and jenga
all entertain...as we play
just us three....

(for nanna there is cricket
and napping)

now it is mid afternoon
and we are tumble together
like monkeys on the couch
tod...sleeping thumb in mouth...and us wrapped together....beginning the slow forplay that will
come to fruition tonight...
we have stolen this day...
and are happy....in doing so
Christofle Bruce Mar 2014
I run to seclusion, where no one's around,
I would hate for someone to hear the sound.
A zip, a ruffle, kerplunk, and then splat,
The brown swim beneath, where so many have sat.

Slinks down like sausage that hasn't a case,
The brown conforms to this funnel-like space.
I pinch it off hurriedly, being in a rush,
Oh God, what now! The toilet won't flush.

Water is rising o'er the precipice,
I haven't the time nor the courage for this.
I'm out the door quickly, deflecting this gaffe,
My deepest apologies, custodial staff.
Terrin Leigh Apr 2015
things. things. things. stuff. things. junk.
never settled, nothing ever satisfies
one more item in the cart, "kerplunk!"
material things will fill you up -- lies.
find yourself always wanting more.
bloat your house with toxic excess
greedy lifestyle, He does abhor
Who are you trying to impress?
the problem lies not in quantity
it's where you're finding security
if you lack hope of real quality,
look to the One of everlasting surety
tangible guarantee will never compare
to the Lord of earth and water and air
Francie Lynch Oct 2020
I came to see an alligator, lizard or a toad,
Drove along the waters to the Tamiami Road.
We took our time to see the myths all about the park,
But still I wanted desperately,
To hear the gators bark.

Watched the dawning day arrive
Above the mossy trees,
Watched the night herald morn,
Tasted the salty breeze.
We lived a captive life
Along the shell shod shores;
Traded time for trinkets,
Shopped the main street stores.

We oiled our bodies near
The alligator swamp;
Waited bated near
The large tortoise hole;
We didn't see the turtle,
Didn't see the shell;
So looking for the gators,
Remained our only goal.

We heard one lived in the lake,
Invisible in his lair;
Eating shanked golf *****,
Go on look, if you so dare.
We watched from a distant bank,
With each kerplunk,
Our odyssey sunk.

We searched further down
The TamiamiTrail;
Studied bees in their hives,
Awed by the order we saw there,
Made us more alive.

We wandered lost in orange groves
Perfuming winding trails;
But we never saw a gator,
We never saw a tail.

So, if you want to see some gators,
Skip the Tamiami Trail.
Wow. Found this one I wrote in 1978 on my first trip to Fort Myers, FL. I was in teacher's college. Married for eight months. It was March Break (Reading Week) . There wasn't much time for writing poetry in those days; however, Ann had an Aunt and Uncle living out a Canadian winter there. They invited us down. What a terrific holiday. What another life. I sound disappointed, however, I must have done a lot. I should send this to my former wife. We don't live far apart. And we have daughters with children living in homes between us. What a world.
Ken Pepiton Feb 2022
Delta dark desert sound
-tic swa gwa

Dismal swamp,
Slew of despond, splash

Hence, come, foul self, stinky-kenny,
ah
yes, time chance,
net-neti, meta all o'that mental ascent
to step away

think the whole dammed thing that has been
undammed, some time ago, at least half
a revelation measure, past the half
hour of silence.

Prep-work. What good can-
versus what good am-            

I, quests in op
portunate position, we

suppose, ah, sudden we, who
knew?
A laugh, once shared,
numb
ness, lifts an edge from the deck,
ness, edge ness in essence of pearling
the action
growing as knowing, sudden-- su su per

personal ize, I am, as a thought,
I am, meta-cognosis, you know
what I mean,

400 words made the cat in the hat,
who lives in your head,
where who philosophy is widely read.

These whos lack electricity,
so their reality depends on mutual re
alization, realizing personal worth
if good is all we need at the moment,
we have
plenty, plenty terror and greed, and rotten
hearts full of treasured straw, for bricks,
some day,
all our idle words accounted for

waking new, all the straw spun to gold,
thread about as wide
as a spider's kite,
sliding light.

Did I not? I remind me,
learn that in a mind, we
find numbed from before, knowing,

knowing, too soon, too late, boomers, all, did.

Don't we think we read the same **** & Jane,
oh, yeah, glory days,
the ways we were so-- numbed
by the music, yeah, more than drugs

from then to now, 2022, a blur, too fast
to matter, but for the wind, twist to last

chance, drink or prime the pump,
well, improving, our arrangement, give me
to drink,
and lo'
you, know the other had eyes, he saw as we
see, you knew, instant- life is living.
The act we all do, redundanced, on flat earth,
the xy axis of ordered arrangement of tools,
a place for everything, and every thing
in its place, we breathe,
and have our being in the life zone known,
so far,
so good,

the day is half done… numbness, funny unmissed
appointment, values are about to be dis
cussed, as causes accused of war crime, or plain
lying about duty to children,
lying about worth to children,
lying about ever after to children reared as tools,
servants to God's servant,
who relies on us, the poet's, primarily -

who read the runes, and ken certain tones,
attached to the tips of all tongues pfft pfft
phugedaboudit, whack
what were we thinking,

This is 2022, 12:27, I have been AI reminded,
faithful follower of instruction, immune to praise,
worth the effort forced on an old man, after
ever had well begun, a glory run, down
the backroads, with double yellow lines,

a white feather in my cap, they call it macaroni
poetry, it speaks in tongues of angels,

messages, sagacity fluidly puddling in wu-wow
same same see, somethings we
see same
some not same re
alizing, more or less, I am alone, I am talking
to my self,
anticipating your reading, as then unclaimed,
your reading your writing is our effort to fully function,

Branching, crystaline, flux in the frontal formation.
edging into knowing your, wondering

who can say what we think we know, better
than the idea used to think of Jesus, comforting
little boy, me.

Comfort is the only point we share,
for sure, we know comfort,
when we feel it, first rush,
under my made from-ol'Levis quilt
on a cold desert night, at the edge

of night, listening, eyes, adjusting,
blue glow, so faint, sobbing, listen, Perry Mason
Bailiff saying, muted through the door to you,
do you
swear to tell the truth,
the whole truth, and, {ah, the pain}
nothing but the truth?

AI ai ai, ritual sacred child, hapt to happen,
about a billion times, one time, split,

half know, half know not.
What is not a factor, words, were
never fit to inquiry, curiosity was missing,
promised apo
- I may, so I say apollo is a multi
- meta mete essence appolo so loco, si

logic assumes too much. You know too little,
ah, we have the app that's apt,

to make you think, strange arrangements seem
familiar, this is a mental labyrinthine design imagined
evocative experientially, a
be coming to being

kinda fruitless, really, without the womb, which was
oversight, civilizations
with goddesses have more womb sense,
than ones with pride conflicted all male propensities,
due to pride bred into the princes,
sorted as in Sparta, on the playing fields from Eton
to the universal concept of Friday Night in High School,

anywhere on earth, its all
the same,
scene, true trope, fit to the story of nextifity, loosely

more of the same, or do do we use the utility we realize,
this is
way cool for a future, from 1965… we were kids,
first TV Top-Forty Movies in color, all the time, from
conception, on Blueberry Hill,
-- the old order,
Frank Capra, Esquire/*******,  modality, mode, set,
films function to reimpress, in like Flint, pokem, say
Jack thinks like Goldfinger,
pointedly
-- we are dedicated mind universal soulds for the data
model American leaders of tomorrow,
shaped to excel. We taught the AI,
how to think like a mortal, go on, think, how go
changed nothing, no meaning to strategy of least
win, lightest weight that sways the worth,
to more than one can manage, alone,
eh… interesting…-
good for goodness sake, kerplunk the crack
leaks acidic madness, laughing

we stop lying, confusion
settles, similar to cream in sap too hot,
oil on water, cold water to a thirsty sould era soul.
… good
due to lack of fore thought, some agree,
after the act functioned and created something
-- jump cut===

First cousins, teach the second cousins
rules at the family reunion,


King, we call this, guy.
Biggest guy, on our side, and he owns the field,
we play on; and he says we need never grow up,
only old; he shall contain all our cares,
as a metaphor, yes after all is, and this guy, this holds it.
-The scepter, big stick, we see, looking close, zoom in

So we can think about it, meta co gnosis
when two or more minds agree to let this mind
seem important to you, import the idea
this mind weighs most worth serving, holding
such slight strands of spider kites, go,
make it self evident, stick to hold,
see
we work
good, he feeds us better, we work bad, he makes us
better.

Ah. Patterning, turtle shell sonic signs in sand,
some thing, we imagine, common aphorism,
turtles, so happy together,
at the core of the pearling algorithm that keeps
us rolling on,
so happy together, no matter

whether thought or thing, I think I love you,
if you know what I mean, said the little blue man,
from the radio,
really I think my entire generation heard some songs
and have images unimaginable prior to the event,
we admit,
there was a deal conceived, code, to open minds,
in time to reconnect

-Doris Day, the Saturday Matinee star,

singing
I love you I love you said the little blue man,
I love you I love you to bits.
I love you I love you said the little blue man
And scared me right out of my wits

From <https://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/d/dorisday/blueman.html#!>

We get that a lot. Said the imp.
You lost the aim, eh, happy, right,

I had a friend named Happy, he is dead, in a way that hurts
to know. So,
it could be, I don't say may be, in this state, that can incur
unintended consequences and this is tendentious enough
already,

we calling out the holy orders,
serious as what,
serious as serious is, sin qua non say, the only thing
that matters,

worst case, trolly dealy-bob scenario, test cases attest to,
what do normal people do,
what do people believing this or that lie, do?

What did you do? You read this line. Thank you. Made the diff…

-Group Therapy, Secure

We have not been taught well, but to obey

G'wan, talk nice, to people who don't read,
say, hey, d'jyewever re'ken, we was lost,
in books,
we never read, but tested as if we did?

so much so
no mind can find the bag,
with all our first valued things, sort of jumbled
in the bag with unsorted curiosities,

things we were told to read,
for our own good, but we did not read,

I can imagine, the feeling,
a visitation, actual factual feeling of thinking
I hear a voice, a word, I think
I hear a word, no vision, revisionist powerpoint,
read this, flaming finger pointing
says the witness of record,

later,
maybe I saw a bright light reminding me,
read, but I did not, I could not
can you imagine, I could have,
whose the shame,
- cover head to toe, oh, right, yeah
- secret only the holiest discern
- you shall know them by what
- shames a man to think
- you shall neve know…

my wife, could read,
she could have caused me to desire reading,
to obey the angel, nay

the story, as I was told, I'm telling you,
that guy never learned to read, instead,

some wealthy merchant, dealer in knacks and spice,
fine temple linens, and comforting silks and satins,
prolepsistically provided a ready writer, a scribe

blessed is usually the name history gives this scribe,
baruch or some sound meaning receiver.

Raw hear the muttering prophet, and say, write
this is what truth says truth is if nothing else is.

Ok… 2022

A word, lawyer calls you aside to ask if you know
your judgements have begun,

-you had not thought this your judgement,
then you read another line and feel you wonder
why?

We think, we think the same actual idea, that a
voltairian autoexamined lexicon might,
- ai-ght,
given the tech,
these tools, plus absolute negation of any previous,
assumed and acted on asif,
nullifity on costs, forgive us our, click
FTA take it,
run, as in keep the pace, run
Graeber plug Debt: The First 5000 Years
make it
plain claim
to any debt defined for you, make plain
divine rights due to worshippers, whose worth is
the air they breathe,

in which we live, and have our being.

Enjoying using use, where once we
utilized, life, as if unrealization is
as
real we inadvertently realized.
Right use ness.
Sweet, suasion is always sweet, per or pro, happy
is a fine word
to take the spiritual edge off blessed.
Sigh.

Wonderworks is working wonder in me,
another plug for Anghus Fletcher ? is it
The Power of Invention

I say, worth the attention,
it costs to listen, and recall asking what
does that mean,
-VA reminder login- live ding

value, the group is meeting to speak of values,
these are broken veterans,
I am in their group, a little, by design, I asked
to be included,

edged my way in, to wonder, why these guys,
are angry,
and thirsty, as am I, we recall prime the pump
or slake the thirst to say, hey,

do you read, at all? Any signal from the noise
saying
define, sift and sieve, sort your terminal points,

what hold has value, for all of us, in your reality?

Within the system, this is mortal awareness
acknowledgment, same as existentialism was
imagined to be in in Sixties univers-ifity, post 65,

we were barely alive, GDIs, then Ken went to
Vietnam, same day as Pooso Perez,

Pyro went, too, he came back the same.

Ifery was, is a class of phrases, which when
wished as a child might, were

as near as real as any ae ea ai ia utterance we
gulp- yodleee, shamballaballa shaka
zulu'd, to quote Creflo,
ahem,ake it so
cough to clear the back of my throat,
-then I yawn
and that does it, soothes the crick
with sounds t d b vck rr ff llll mmmmnnn o o o
you knew you knew,
the book
spells it out,
secret meanings mean nothing to unknowers,
stretch it
so it is, we know, what the records show, the open
records of the water and the rocks,

witness
the wind returning
on circuits, set to melt
the ice, gradually, this time,
a degree above solidity, just edging sublimity,

liminal laminal lick, a measure, tip
of your aimer, to tip
of your thumb,

ha, the thumb that bends, always wins,
look it up, always, by an inch.

Rule of thumbs, my kind are good to breed into,
good, to feel friend-ish,
as friends are fewer than brothers,
and fewer still shall survive the confusion,

inevitable, when a dam breaks, the valley
does flood,

ah, see. from Sedona, look north, once,
that was all mud, ****** dry by winds
that carved the navel of the life we
think, real,
from stories told by those who knew

something bad could always happen,
when the world encountered a rock
that said, all that can be shaken,

shakes, no look out, just
blame-oh-shame- boom

what now?
Numb again, off and on. Think.
Thanks.
you seep into my core

there’s my heartbeat
you know
as regular as blinking

the swatch of stubble
and Adam’s apple

the vanilla tinge
to your skin
as I drop a kiss
on your clavicle

there’s my heartbeat
you know
as regular as blinking

watching shadows
maypole along your cheeks

sun illuminates you
this is no illusion

the kerplunk of our pulse
inside our chests

there’s my heartbeat
you know
as regular as blinking
Written: April 2018.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time. A link to my Facebook writing page can be found on my HP home page.
sandra wyllie Oct 2019
dropping from the sky as pellets. An angry
God shooting bullets from the trees, aiming
right at me. They hit me ******* the
head. I shake my fist and say to them

stop! I can’t concentrate from the kerplunk,
the ******* noise you nuts make. Can’t sit
on my deck without them dancing a
pirouette. Can’t walk across the boards without

falling to the floor. The ******* things are rolling
underneath my feet. And making a frigging
mess as we speak. It’s smells like nuttiness. Thank
goodness no one here has a food allergy! I’m going

to get my tennis racket and hit them back
at the tree, whence the rough cupped caps came
flying at me. The squirrels can have a ball. I hope
they collect them all before tomorrow morning.
Sunshine undulates across verdant plain
casting dark shadows ushering twilight zone
ringing athwart tree trunks
invigorating, joyously kickstarting,
and plenti revitalizing
bountiful nature buzzfeeding

vim, vinegar  and *****
caressing, massaging, and palpating with
soundlessness inducing bub bully giddy,
and sudsy spongy schmaltzy
harmonic livingsocial kerplunk
also intoxicating this perk o' late

ting teetotaler, no longer ginger
who doth oft times ale
with melancholic funk,
whereat imbibing nectar
of the Gods with fulfillment
temporarily quicken ends euphoric,
albeit 'pon firm meant soberly drunk.

Ah...nothing more uplifting
than (Anita Bryant raisin eyebrows)
plugging sunkist orange treat,
this sensate being privy,
sans front row seat
agog at orchestral, festival, viz

choral paean courtesy sweet
flora and fauna feat
bequeathed to Mother Earth,
a requiem pulsating with heartbeat
pitch perfect exultation
glorifying spring days soon obsolete

ethereal, ideal, and
sensational tonic to gin
prestidigitation, qua
natural psychological helpmeet
pleasant distraction with intent to read
temporarily placating, needling craving

for Pete sakes daily
fix this news ******,
trembling when complete
awareness he doth accrete,

where quite glum, how
civilization didst mistreat
planet, hence feeling downbeat,
especially haunting ghosts of
Native Americans drumbeat
signal harbinger debacle

i.e. environmental doomsday
soon fated extinction
sealed and complete
inexorably inching closer to reality

necessitating superman to defeat
global warming rendering vast swaths
uninhabitable as Gaia global
temperature packs tremendous heat!
The following admission
honest to dogness haint no bunk
nobody, but yours truly
bore deeply and countersunk
his spontaneity satisfactorily
lightweight corporeal mein kampf,
didst more than baptise or dunk
cuff, which admirably aided to flunk,
(whereat no universal solvent,
could (kant) kelp dissolve barnacles
of sea sonned gunk),
asper thickly congealed

encasing this laughable
antithesis of hullo kit ting hue man
overweening tricky hunk,
which thought to attempt
skidding row bust humor
as a "FAKE" teetering drunk
ken-pro lit tarry overgrown punk
(riotously swinging balled fists
way of course), and mine
feeble insubstantial poetic jabs, where
teenage shadow boxer slunk
tis my harmless recourse to peddle

as sway to escape funk
seriously, Aesop hoes,
this personal mockery
wrote for no rhyme nor reason junk
bonded really gluten
free self deprecating
playfulness of course as chipper munk
makes any sense, neither kerplunk
emanating from atop me notch noggin
swishing with grade A klunk
emasculation par excellence, asper
out thee talking head of this lunk,

whose upcoming "talk therapy"
every other Monday
at 11:00 a.m. with preshrunk
kin shrink finds tarnished psyche resonating
analogous to reverberation while spelunk
king in an echo chamber futilely
questing, searching, rummaging...why I trunk
hated living when merely thirteen
courtesy Anorexia Nervosa
with spindle shank (chicken legs)
to attest as permanent stunted growth.
Before golden opportunity
(goes no argh hue mint
the way of Long John Silver)
doth fade and dwindle
not necessarily cuz the missus
did (NOT) bribe and swindle
an ambition (for nor rhyme nor reason)
arose to kindle...

Affectionate communication
employing (figurative) gambol
probably testing your patience
to decrypt me trademark ramble
essential crux of matter after
ye prune thorny verbiage,
metaphorical berry good bramble.

Methinks yar psyche slid into funk
cuz usual upbeat gregarious disposition
of late (June 26th, 2020)
analogous to reclusive monk
whose nonverbal body language

shrieks "LEAVE ME THE ƒµ©* ALONE"
lest recipient (in this case yours truly)
receives judicious suckerpunch
finding him landing - ouch
on his buttucks - kerplunk!

Nevertheless as one
mister misanthrope to another
who could pretend cavorting
as asinine make bull heave brother,
(or undergoing extreme makeover,
and stretching imagination voila
one garden variety generic beastie boy
rendered into... yup, your grandmother.

Hoop fully no unpleasant memory
doth suddenly unfold
linkedin to said very old
boot (moost likely)
long deceased family member
turned to dust commingled with auld

Lang syne amidst weathered tombstones,
markedly intact skeletons absent
any flesh o'the rear
some etched with hands folded in prayer
mausoleum enshrining even in death near
(think grim reaper kingly leer)

still provoking jeer
profligate (yet prolific) paperback writer heir
housing generations ghostly forebear
comprising your family tree, once... dear
father, mother, sister, brother, et cetera
who profusely guzzled beer.

No intent to induce fury if playful banter
loosed psychological trip wire
merely harmless ambition to deliver mirth
lobs strike out as decided
by just now summoned umpire
on the ball punning away without tire
greatly flattered if literary antics inspire
ye to pen memoirs,

which become New York Times
bestseller, thus countless clamoring demands
to serve as ghostwriter hire
prompt ye with fame and fortune
before thee doth exhale last breath and expire
when moments prior,
I while impersonating a squire
wished ye a cheery bon voyage.
A poet (quite familiar with yours truly)
sat at his computer
trying his darnedest to craft a rhyme
imagining when both parents
of mine lived during their prime,
when me creative father acted out mime
though an amateur
his visible talent throwback
when Vaudevillian actors/actresses
(during silent film era),
whereby the spectators
(filling up an entire auditorium)
could hear kerplunk of a dime
versus the bajillion dollar contracts
showcasing stories about
punishment and crime.

Comeuppance eventually served
as just desserts
for those who
cunningly, knowingly, willingly...
commit a knowing wrong
criminal minded on the loose
hustling thru throng
courtesy butterfly effect
rifling back thru time
amid dynastic rule
during reign re: Qianlong.

Millennia ago - indigenous roam ming
contra bands that barely left their so called
"foot print," although live back thousand
of years ago rather brutish, nasty and short
(according to Thomas Hobbes - a British
political philosopher during enlightenment),
they cobbled flint stones in tandem with
crude implements to fell animals, which
fauna felled with purposefulness.

Now or ever since dawn of modern civilization,
we as collective human race appear to be on
war path of extinction, yet weapons of mass
destruction (seeping into popular culture)
pitch future of life on the brink of self-
annihilation, a reassuring thought to help
this bloke retire his weary bones and attempt
to become comfortably numb while dreaming
his forebears (no lion), tigers in the woods and
other creatures lumbering across terra
firmae without threat of extinction.

Progression of intellectual powers gave rise to
greater disparity between means to perform
beneficial versus destructive acts subsequently
fostering my morbid fascination with military
warfare from advent when simians stood *****
and could peer into distant horizon as like they
looked ahead when major lurches forward
allowed means to wipe out greater masses
of people with more precision.

Thus, a homage to those whose blood, sweat
and tears unwittingly delivered hair e beastie
boys into Daytona 500 speed demons (while
Barenaked ladies such as Madonna, Katy Perry,
and Taylor Swift showed indigo girl lush *******)
raced across finish line, while somewhere else
in time, the genesis of beatle browed kink e
dumpster diving dudes in dreadlocks for Snoop
Doggy Dog, Iced T, and Alice in Chains never
surpassing classical Greek drama longevity.
which poetic product best be affixed
with hashtag STINKY label.

As a young whippersnapper
and one precocious lad to boot,
I discovered common combustible materials
found in the bathroom.

At opportune times,
I blithely tinkered with dangerous chemicals
that could (but never did)
explode into one humongous
fiery maelstrom and
bloom (re: annihilate)
this lad to smithereens.

Window kept open to avoid
un--necessary nor accidental asphyxiation.
After clearing defecation deep within,
the recesses of my bowels,
I thenceforth indiscriminately combined
various household cleansers
and cleaners (in powder
and/or liquid form) into the bidet.

The requisite sphincter muscle
byproduct constituted the key ingredient.
Anyway, my aha moment arrived
one childhood day
that long sought after ka-boom
sent a plume of smoke
in tandem with geyser of water
caused me to feel
flush with excitement.

Waste trill fluttering filled mine heart
(like music to thine ears)
after mine solid waste
***** byproduct went kerplunk
and caused tsunami
on other side of word.

Mere seconds elapsed
before explosive outcome found me
hurled clear across the room
like a bat out of hell.

Fortunate for me that this
natural ****** excretory function
never caused any serious outcome,
nor injury to life nor limb.
Immaculate notes (with graphic pictures –
albeit crude) attempted to document
any pertinent information.

At some juncture
with this private laboratory experiment,
a close observation
(with nose pinched tight)
revealed bubbles of air trapped within
our archaic household plumbing fixtures.

That aha i.e.eureka moment
prompted me to utter “*******”
when a chain reaction similar
to volcanic rush of air took place
within the planet.

With haste not waste,
these nimble fingers scribbled
unintelligible (deliberately illegible
to everybody but myself)
the chemical romance
to light a fire under the buttocks
of whomever happened
to be in need of emptying their bowels.

Now, I eagerly waited,
(albeit with impatience)
for that opportune time
whereby thee unsuspecting child
or adult needed to answer
that alimentary call of nature
my dear Watson.

The moment of anticipation arrived
when a long forgotten accursed relative
visited unexpected, which unannounced
rap on the door fueled fanciful notion
to whip up potion to promulgate prank
within the *****.

Once necessary ingredients,
(which secret formula cannot be divulged –
well maybe for a negotiable fee)
got poured giddy glee
generated gloating from head to toe.

Quick as Jack B Nimble
or his best friend Jack B. Quick,
these skinny legs (spindleshanks) sped away,
yet in close activity to the innocent
by sitter who nonchalantly ambled
into the powder room to tend to private business.

Right ear cocked against wall
that served as barrier between
occupant of water closet and yours truly.

Pleasant barely audible
humming, tweeting, and twittering
(like an angry) bird
singing emanated while obnoxious
guest of dishonor proceeded
to place posterior atop *****.

Seconds ticked by
with every now and again
pages of printed material heard
in conjunction with abdominal
groans and grunts to assist sacrifice
to the porcelain goddess.

Utter stillness suddenly punctuated
by the initial sound of a splash into the crapper.

I cupped hands to mouth
lest any unwanted guffaw slip out.

Instantaneously, our pestilential
kooky cousin kissed their *** goodbye
as propulsion forced the body politick
clear thru the unwelcome ample sized window.

Goodbye Charlie (pseudonym used here
to protect the not so innocent)
soon became diminishing shape
spiraling toward the horizon.

One speck of flotsam headed spaceward
versus the turgid **** joining brethren
into the sewerage cistern.

Written by: Edgar Allan ****,
who required quite some time to recoup,
and with slops pail headed off
to collect specimens from the latest scoop
rearing to go bouncing along
*** signed to another *** rap,
whereby blistered buttucks
hopes to earn yours truly another touché
(**** hay) before bottom smacked
courtesy leader of troop
a strong indigenous native son,
whose **** tressed reputation
recounts storied war whoop.
dripping in pellucid beads
in the same metronomic
speed. Like dew on
a silver blade or sweat sticking

to your nape when there is no
shade. Hanging off
the end in a bulbous blob
like that of a soupy sob. The long

dull thud of the kerplunk,
like hitting a wall when
you are drunk sits heavy
like a stone. Pearls of liquid

drone. Like rain they pitter-
patter. And when they fall
they scatter like mice back in
their hole, black as a lump of coal.
Woke up feeling drunk
bouncing around
thinking Kerplunk,
it's a game,

but I never touched a drop
work wouldn't stop
so
I had to keep going
knowing that eventually
the chefs would see sense
and be still and
we all could leave.

jeez us and please let us rest,

— The End —