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It was a
will I get to see you again kind of kiss,
that sort of a hit and miss kind of kiss
when your lips touch and there's a
slight chance that you may
make contact.

This to all the girls I kissed and missed
and wished I'd kissed some more,
and those I wished I'd met and known,
those who made me smile and laugh and
those who made me moan.

My little black book has grown up now,
it's old and the names inside are fading,
a bit like me.
Mother, mother, what ill-bred aunt
Or what disfigured and unsightly
Cousin did you so unwisely keep
Unasked to my christening, that she
Sent these ladies in her stead
With heads like darning-eggs to nod
And nod and nod at foot and head
And at the left side of my crib?

Mother, who made to order stories
Of Mixie Blackshort the heroic bear,
Mother, whose witches always, always
Got baked into gingerbread, I wonder
Whether you saw them, whether you said
Words to rid me of those three ladies
Nodding by night around my bed,
Mouthless, eyeless, with stitched bald head.

In the hurricane, when father's twelve
Study windows bellied in
Like bubbles about to break, you fed
My brother and me cookies and Ovaltine
And helped the two of us to choir:
'Thor is angry; boom boom boom!
Thor is angry: we don't care!'
But those ladies broke the panes.

When on tiptoe the schoolgirls danced,
Blinking flashlights like fireflies
And singing the glowworm song, I could
Not lift a foot in the twinkle-dress
But, heavy-footed, stood aside
In the shadow cast by my dismal-headed
Godmothers, and you cried and cried:
And the shadow stretched, the lights went out.

Mother, you sent me to piano lessons
And praised my arabesques and trills
Although each teacher found my touch
Oddly wooden in spite of scales
And the hours of practicing, my ear
Tone-deaf and yes, unteachable.
I learned, I learned, I learned elsewhere,
From muses unhired by you, dear mother.

I woke one day to see you, mother,
Floating above me in bluest air
On a green balloon bright with a million
Flowers and bluebirds that never were
Never, never, found anywhere.
But the little planet bobbed away
Like a soap-bubble as you called: Come here!
And I faced my traveling companions.

Day now, night now, at head, side, feet,
They stand their vigil in gowns of stone,
Faces blank as the day I was born.
Their shadows long in the setting sun
That never brightens or goes down.
And this is the kingdom you bore me to,
Mother, mother. But no frown of mine
Will betray the company I keep.
ymmiJ Jun 2019
Ovaltine
has bad rap because of Ralphie
but is delicious and nutritious to me
why not, we could use some silly time
Mary Gay Kearns Feb 2018
Hand in back of my dress
We wandered over the forest
The grass dried and sandy
The evening slowly
Terminating the sun
A yellow globe above the flats.
I thought of home alone
No telephone
And Ovaltine mixed with your love
Your smell of tobacco and *****
And oh those first *******
Taking me out of myself
With desire.


Love Mary **
My first year with Roger.Love Mary ***
I was over 16
Glayz Welch May 2015
It's hard to remember
You're Resting In Peace
Mainly because
It doesn't really seem
That you're lying under ground
With your wings fully spread
Always checking on me
You're in the sky above my head
I'm not really sure how this poem will end
I just hope you know
That you're not just my grandpa
You're my friend
You're the brightness
That made Ovaltine to start my day
Drove me to school if I missed the bus
Oh, I had so much fun
Took me to town
Always got me sweets
But don't tell mom and dad
The secret's between you and me
I love you so much
I know that you're free
I just hope you will never
Just forget me
Because I will never ever
Forget you're existence
Because you've done so much for me
I'll live
Waiting for our meeting again
We will both have wings
No more crying in the end
Jenna Leanne May 2014
Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?
one glass of Ovaltine- oops,  I had three
can we fix it? yes we can!
a plethora of beanie babies always at hand

no play-doh or silly putty on the couch
remember the smell of York patties when you opened the pouch?
Teletubbies is on, I hear the nu-nu
my beloved game boy and Gremlins; Gizmo's my booboo

come along and see what's new
it's me, you, and Zooboomafu
remember when Emily wished on a dragon scale?
that's what started the Dragon Tales

I'd drop anything to catch the Rugrats show
Tommy, Dil, Angelica, Chuckie was kinda slow
Cinnamon Toast Crunch in my bowl
Soccer Boppers and those little ugly trolls

Jell-O pudding and Dragon Ball Z
I knew the Fresh Prince song when I was only three
I still watch SpongeBob and now I'm in high school
just because you keep it real doesn't make that you're uncool.
Nat Lipstadt Feb 2016
Flight #177 / Seat #7C - where I'm bound/I have been released

the final part of the trilogy,
re broken lives,
some finalized,
some revitalized,
some, their score,
incomplete

~~~


on the road again,
crossing the continent,
from sea to shining sea,
from one set of Eastern grandkids,
off to see the wizardry
of the West Coast variety

six hours six minutes,
flying high time, weather's fine,
a voices inform us, that will be
our mutual time of peaceful co-existence,
on this particular traversée journey

I've done harder time,
30 years ++ with no parole,
except for poetic verse,
them words,
I learned to parlez-vous parlay

never been afeared of flying high,
even amidst the wickedest black pitch,
tar and feathered thick, which is all the
ovaltine shaped window of the
exterior world, cares to reveal
at thirty thousand feet

the oxygen level in the cabin,
as it usually does,
says hey!
feeling heady boy,
so get good, so get ready,
write us a poem, a new shiny toy,
another of your airborne verbal medley

I've got little upon
to expound,
currently limbo'd
tween fresh, death-revived,
past memories of imprisonment and release,
by the jailers of L'Ancien Régime
and
the soon to feel,
happy anticipation of
Frisco fresh young lives re-greeting us,
long distance visitors with joyous screams,
loud, clear and that may cut
the muddied gloom internal,
like a pair of welcoming,
gleeful, liberating scissors

my windowed widowed refraction,
directs my carpaccio-thin guise
to pierce onwards a well trod state of
deeper reflection

noting that we will soon be flying over
water poisoned Flint,
in the state of Michigan,
just missing by an inching,
Paul Simon's sung request,
his "all come to Saginaw" dare

yet, I don't know where I am,
though the course trajectory
pilot-officially programmed and set,
ticketed firect  through to
San Francisco

nonetheless, my internal organs all feel lost,
misplaced and turned down around,
passing directly over cities heard of
and yet never seen or footed,
can I still claim to have been there?

same question differently couched,
providing this passenger's headache,
I was there, of this world,
for the almost forty years plus,
though I wasn't really present,
merely accounted for,
finally learning that "freedom"
is just another word

and though the Angel of Death,
scheduled, made a pre-flight pick up,
he left part of me behind
and on board,
to pick up after,
steward some of his and my
messes

the eyes, the brain, the whole noggin,
search for secret signs,
potent portents, turn indicators,
that this gloomy doom,  cloud thicket,
this too shall pass,
this last shared repast of shards,
this,
my so long now song
an au revoir to
"sad eyed lady of the lowlands"

noting that I am outbound and seated,
on a bunch of lucky sevens, flight and seat,
could be my luck is youthful changing?

where I'm bound
I can't tell,
I'll let you know when I get there
when I know, how I'll know,
I don't know, maybe some
extrusion of new words will speak,
at landing time, a different voice,
where and when I'm bound,
that will cry out


"now unbound,
at last,
at last,
I have been released"
**

~~~
2/11~12/2016
started while over the Great Lakes, Michigan, and Wisconsin;
completed over Tahoe, Carson City, & Sacramento
"With your childhood flames on your midnight rug,
And your Spanish manners and your mother's drugs,
And your cowboy mouth and your curfew plugs,
Who among them do you think could resist you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands,

Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes,
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums,
Should I leave them by your gate,
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?


Oh, how could they ever mistake you?

They wished you'd accepted the blame for the farm,
But with the sea at your feet and the phony false alarm,
And with the child of a hoodlum wrapped up in your arms,

How could they ever, ever persuade you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands,
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes,

My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums,
Should I leave them by your gate,
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?

With your sheet-metal memory of Cannery Row,
And your magazine-husband who one day
just had to go,
And your gentleness now, which you just can't help but show,
Who among them do you think would employ you?

Now you stand with your thief, you're on his parole
With your holy medallion which your fingertips fold,
And your saintlike face and your ghostlike soul,

Oh, who among them do you think could destroy you?

Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands,
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes,

My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums,
Should I leave them by your gate,
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?


Read more: Bob Dylan - Sad - Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands Lyrics | MetroLyrics
Amber Rosborough Jul 2010
Silver slivers of solid liver and jam
Whiskers kiss past Turks or ham
Flavored paper for popular people
Begin please! Climb our church steeple

Forget it, I mean you no harm
If you can't be cute, then try for smarm
Tell me a secret you know about boys
Though you might not know any, you still have soft toys

Never, ever, always - tall days (in platform shoes!)

Hate, love, lust, rust and remembering
Silly games with guns and dismembering
Bombs that explode into strawberry stars
Sparkle and twinkle, and try to melt cars

Jelly beans, tangerines, chocolate and fries
Buttered toast fireworks in ovaltine skies

Capable people do commonplace things
while I write myself a pair of pink wings
to fly overhead of their sensible plans
and pelt them with pillows and empty food cans.
EAHutch Feb 2014
I am from pancakes, from ovaltine and cheerios
I am from an empty street that welcomes bare feet at twilight
I am from a big green back yard
from lilacs and daffodils
valentines and Easter eggs
from road trips in the van
And tuna sandwiches with extra mayonnaise

I am from being late to everything
And bedtime and naptime
From Bactine and band aids and bee stings and remember to wear shoes
when you ride your scooter
or walk over the pine needles
or under the slide where the grass is dry and sharp

I am from everyone is equal and religion is not a bad thing  
And no one is wrong to believe,
But you don’t have to.

I am from Cheese pizza and Chocolate Milk
From the dinner bell when dad gets home from work
Or the candy cookie at the end of the day
if you help mom with the groceries
I am from waffles and homemade peach ice cream on the forth of July

From water melon and doctor Suess on a picnic blanket
From Crayons and markers and coloring books
I am from stuffed animals covered in dust cause you left them outside
From ski school
From pink lemonade and M&Ms;
I am from no matter how cold that water is
I will swim in the rivers and oceans

I am from flying kites
From riding bikes to the end of the street
From sleeping outside on the deck
But not the whole night,
Cause you start to miss your bed.

I am from Halloween is scary sometimes-
And so is the queen in Snow White and Sleeping Beauty
And the witch in the Wizard of Oz
And the abominable snowman in Rudolph
From I think we will stick to the jungle Book and Lady and the *****



I am from snowmen and sledding hills and hot chocolate
with extra marsh mellows
From hanging Christmas lights in a snowstorm
And Dads sorry he let you jump off the deck
when you hit your nose to your knee-
He thought the snow was deep enough.

I am from Sprinklers and Trampolines
From Lodge Pole, Columbine, Bear Tree
From Ten minutes to bedtime
Junie B Jones Clifford the Big Red Dog and Bear in the Big Blue House


I am from Juice Coffee and Cinnamon toast
From broken heels and Sticky fingers
From counting stairs and sheep and pennies
and the days until Christmas
From the top of Dad shoulders at the tree lighting
From falling asleep with your head in Moms lap
in the booth at the restaurant.

I am from love
From hugs and kisses and holding on to one another so tight
Because what other way to show them you care.
Matt Nov 2015
I wonder how many hours
Of their lives
They wasted
In front of the
Idiot box?

This glass
Of Ovaltine
Could use
A bit more
Ovaltine
Be right back

Okay, back
I'd like to smash
That television

Just smash it for fun
Not out of anger

Television is fine
Now and again

But it's what they watch
Lame movies

Watch something interesting
For a change
Matt May 2015
Enjoy your Sunday Morning

I hope that you do

I listen to the birds
I eat my cereal bowl
I will have some yogurt perhaps
Rasins too

I think a small cup
Of hot chocolate ovaltine will do

Enjoy your Sunday morning

And I will too
Matt Jan 2016
I am happy
When people like
My poems

When people
Comment on my poems
If there is a criticism
That's okay too

Such kind people here
What we write here is important

I send my good wishes
To the writers here

In an ideal world
I would invite you
To my living room

To share the warmth
Of the fire

And offer you a glass
Of warm tea

Or hot chocolate Ovaltine
Matt Dec 2015
I graduated
From college
Over seven years ago

And have just over
300 dollars
In my bank account

At the gym
A lone gym bag
Was on the ground
Next to an empty treadmill

I assumed
That it was the woman's
On the adjacent treadmill

So I got
On the empty treadmill
She looked at me
And said,
"There's someone on there."

Her beautiful smile
And stunning figure
Well

I should have guessed that
But I always use the treadmill
On the end

Well
At least
I got to get close
To a beautiful woman

And see her
Lovely smile

I ran three miles
At the gym

I will return
To workout some more

Maybe go listen
To podcasts
At the park

Life is lonely
I'm used to it

Just wish I had
Someone
To hang out with

Once in a while

Oh well

At least I had
Some good kidney beans

And a hot glass
Of Ovaltine
Matt Jul 2015
I enjoy Monty Python
I am watching it tonight

I was at peace
While lying next
To the red brick wall
Near the gym
Last Night

Looking up
As the sunlight
Streamed through the
Tree above

Maybe one day
I could meet a woman
To spend some
Time with

I am about as loving
As a guy
As you will
Ever meet

Tonight I had
A glass of chocolate Ovaltine

And earlier
This evening
I tear or two fell
Down my face

As I observed the
Beauty of the Tao
The coming and going

Of the cars and pedestrians
In the evening

I considered the fact that
I am living in the end of days

I pictured a war in
The Heavens
A battle of the army
Of the Lord

Against the forces
Of evil

I thought about
The book of Revelation

I would like to see
The battle first hand

No harm shall come
Of me

Divine Protection

I believe Jesus is Lord
Amen.
Matt Jan 2016
I graduated college
In the year 2008

I have $2.88
In my checking account

I like youtube documentaries
And fresh fruits

I spend many hours
At the gym

I used to see a therapist
But she left me

I see my three friends
A few times a year

I refuse to work
A 40 hour work week

I know one day
The markets will
Be out of food

One day life will become
Terrible

I am a human being
I was born to suffer
Pointlessly

I talk to women
In an adult chat room

And pleasure myself
While they pleasure themselves
On their chaturbate cams

I enjoy Ovaltine

I would play golf
But I can't afford it

Everything costs money
And I don't have any

Jesus was poor
I'm poor too

Middle class Americans
Love money

I don't care
About money
Matt May 2016
I can tell you about life
But I don't know
What's for

I can tell you
I'm alive
And my life
Is a total bore

Sometimes on hikes
Or sitting beneath trees
Only a little meat
Too much is not good for me

And these people
On there computers
And their phones

Everyone in their
Own zone

And I'd like to go
To an exclusive party
Just for fun

To see hot babes
On the beach
*******

Underneath
The setting sun

"Frack"
That is what
Starbuck said

But he did not
Let the enemy catch him
He is not dead

You want this
You want that
It doesn't work that way

Keep most things inside
Don't give yourself away

Times are fleeting
And no one is meeting
Meeting me here

And I'm alone again
And I find it all queer

I should just relax
And have a beer

But no one wants to drink
Alone
That is no fun

The man
From the Twilight Zone
Had to make a distant planet
His home

They brought him
A robot lady
To be his friend

To him it was
A Godsend

And then something bad
Happened to her
In the end

I did not watch
What happened
To his friend

And here I am
All alone

Living in
My zone

I suppose
My muscles
Aren't big enough
Or I'm not
Mean or tough

I'll probably
Be a ******
All of my days

Learning to
Experience pleasure
In different ways

Just wanted a hug
Just wanted to feel
Wanted friendship
With a woman
Something real

Something of value
A little fun

In and out
Of my life
These women walk
And on their phones
They do talk

Off to be with
Lovers and friends

My loneliness
Is a steady trend

Friendly women
Come to me
Let us eat mangos
And let things be

It will all happen
So naturally
Hugging underneath
The shade of elm trees

Lovers are much to close
Don't want to get burned
Like a marshmallow
At a roast

Just want mutual appreciation
And friendly hugs
And to drink Ovaltine
From coffee mugs

And as the seasons pass
I wonder

And my cat is still
Quite frightened
My rain and thunder

Often times
I ramble on
Matt Dec 2015
That was an enjoyable movie
Interstellar

Sometimes I feel as though
I am like Matt Damon
In his container

Waiting for someone
For people
Waiting for a friend

These days everyone
Just goes around
On their phones

I thought being
A human being meant
Having human relationships

I can tell you one thing
After a certain point
I enjoy being by myself

Almost like I am adapting

I suppose it is
Society's fault

Should I just go
Wander out into the night

Banging a stick
Against the ground

The movie
Talks about love
That's good

I love my family
And friends

I try to love
My own self

Maybe I don't have
A great body
But I workout

And it's so easy
To be aloof

And if I spend
Every night
Alone

Not hugging anyone
Oh well

Perhaps better
Not to love too much

Christmas is almost here
Maybe I will spend it
On a hike or something

The days go by
The nights go by

And I wonder why

The tragedy is
I am a personable guy
I enjoy people's company

I exist
And dwell in nature

Love
All this talk
In this movie
About love

I don't know
I just go on
Trying to be good
Be loving

Perhaps I'll find my
Female friend
If not, so be it I guess

I'd like to have a glass
Of Ovaltine
But I need to go
Get some milk

Take care fellow poets
Matt Nov 2015
My Ovaltine
Which I am drinking now

My golf clubs
The parks
And trails
That I frequent

My wireless keyboard
My Ipad and Iphone

My podcasts
My one good friend
My family
My job which I enjoy
My room

The kitchen
That I just cleaned

These are the things
That are part of my life

Maybe you are
A friendly and loving woman
And would like to hug me
And console me
In my warm bed

Maybe you would like
To be part
Of my life too
Matt Feb 2016
Tired Of This Program
Nothing Is Ever Real

I have to go to
The job site
5 days this week

What a ****** deal

Ugly and alone
And nobody cares

Perhaps I'd jump off a mountain
Over a dare

This planet is a bore
And stupid too

I like Ovaltine
How about you
No one went on a Summer holiday
no one's going on a Christmas break,

take some time to let that sink in
and start thinking,
whatya gonna do with the time that'
left to you?

Boil an egg? go ahead
break a leg,
go hiking,
biking
dieting
rioting,
lots of things for you to do
with all the time that's left to you.
I remember the time when you said it was time but I wasted the time and it went,
and I remember like the last dying ember remembers the heat of its journey.

Where do chance opportunities go when you're to slow to grab them,
shadows of men who have fought, maybe won, maybe lost
counting the cost of fortune.

Now
I drink Ovaltine trapped in the same old dream
watching the sun going down.

The light dissipates as he who waits quietly sits in the gloom.

One day
I'll remember tomorrow
and probably
the day after it goes.

The hands creep slowly
across the face of the clock
which suits my purpose,
knowing
the numerals
are funerals
in disguise.

But I rise and I shine
and
this time
I will
remember.
Isheanopa Zvobgo Sep 2019
Before you, I drank Ovaltine and Strawberry milk.
Before you, I had decaff half shot Latte's


Now I relish triple shot expresso's with no sweetener.
and even they don't compare,

to
the bitterness

                        of your aftertaste.
And its these feelings of you, that course through me like Caffeine.
It'll soon be bedtime for the old timer but before that, there are things I must do and you knew that, didn't I think about you? I did and I do.

Ovaltine?
check
Teddy bear?
check
pyjamas on?
okay two out of three
is not too bad,
well
not before bed
anyway.
Watching the patterns fall like raindrops on the wall, bedroom tunes on the window panes, Ovaltine, food for tired brains? well, it could be, but I have tea.
She, because
She is the one
puts the bedroom light on and the patterns disappear.
Rain but I suppose it has to.
during and after a moderate snowfall
today January 19th, 2024,
within Southeastern Pennsylvania
and elsewhere across the Eastern Seaboard,
whereby blanket of whiteness
muffles sounds of civilization.

I hate a spoiler alert
regarding weather forecasters prediction,
especially when meteorologist
wannabe spouse doth blurt
out impending blizzard
which never materializes,
thus no need for yours truly to exert
himself shoveling and yet denying same
to frolic and gamely flirt
with Khione, the Greek goddess of snow,
daughter of Boreas, god of the North Wind
and Winter, and sister of Zethes and Calais.

I feel humbled and enamored
when Mother Nature
singly and/or nsync with old man winter
looses propensity to bestow majestic scene,
when expanse of pure white
individual ice crystals
that grow while suspended
in the atmosphere—

usually within clouds—
and then fall, accumulating
on the ground,
where they render further magic
changes landscape into blanket
of pure ****** whiteness;
I fondly think back
remembering '96 storm of the century.

At that time January 1996
me and the missus while timesharing
at Shawnee on the Delaware
ardently, diligently, and persistently strived, yet
unsuccessfully conceived Blizzard Baby.

Now wife far beyond procreative age,
(though nevertheless I wistfully envisage
begetting another progeny -
simultaneously stretching credulity
to breaking point)
all things considered
exhaustion would peter out
after capitulation of divining rod
announced, *******, and issued forth little squirt
necessitating lifetime to recoup energy.

Bound within figurative four walls
of Schwenksville, Pennsylvania domicile
courtesy appreciable snowfall,
I direct energy crafting poem.

Yours truly will actually
refrain comestibles despite feeling hungry -
(plus he will be undergoing a colonoscopy
five days hence and abstain eating fiber
unless inclement weather determines otherwise)
lest metabolism to digest food
decreases potential alertness,
and full belly finds me
able, eager, ready and willing
to lie supine, study
the backs of my eyes and digest.

"Mother Nature" commences
to baptize spilling
purity from sheltering overcast sky
bajillion year celestial tureen
while refulgent weak solar beams
desperately massage tender shoots
thawing frozen earth,
where frigid cold icy sheen
hermetically sealed, asper
horizontal frozen walled in pond,
Thoreau and thru,

when skaters waltzed
stealing lovers kisses unseen
soon thaw melts pools
of frozen precipitation
all a buzz with feeding
Gabriel donning primped
orange coiffure trumpeting
"NON FAKE" arrival herculean
kickstarting powers unleashed
since time immemorial worship,
and/or sacrifices made

to deities of webbed skein
viz, animal and/or plant
wide world rejoicing when
harvest yielded cornucopia
primitive, yet over keen
superstitious shutterfly scattered
bands of hominids plentitude
linkedin to sugar daddy's
favorite colored jelly bean
benediction, and veneration rituals
also included pagan dispensing

prayers believing
obeisance necessitated cyclopean
appeasement lest death
and destruction would rain
purple pearl drop monsoon,
traced to angry spirits
subsequently drowning
helpless prehistoric hygiene
cleansed **** sapiens
ancestors possessing gene

and chromosomes latent
within dormant flora lean
fauna coming alive
with the scent of fragrant bouquet
while the hills burst
with creativity healthy panacean
liberating tentative "cabin fever"
wrought by polar
vortex, the spell of warm weather,
a respite sunscreen

applied to ward off deadly
ultraviolet solar radiations
something in magnitude
bajillion extinctions obscene
spate of lost species
as seasons greetings witness hot
untenable global warming
affecting every calm serene
nook and cranny incumbent
to relish approximately

twelve weeks of cold temperatures
while sipping my ovaltine
reminiscing about Lake Wobegon days
recollected from fictitious boyhood,
when snowfall covered roofs
tops inconveniencing Rudolph,
and his deer friends a teen
nee tiny bit, and school cancellation
necessitated state requirement
resulting summer vacation
shelving reading Pygmalion
for Shaw!
(I sit corrected for typing year 201, when most of America untrammeled by hordes of humanity, and probably far more similar to the garden of Eden, which approximate space/time continuum disparity only about twenty centuries ago, a place unimaginably wine ding with saltine, pristine Ovaltine NON GMO gluten and monosodiumglutimate free, and divine untamed wilderness.)

Many unsuspecting innocent lives
     unwittingly found themselves
     at ground zero
     with absolutely no time
     to bid loved ones adieu,
and thus with
     a metaphorically clangorous
     (aire splitting din – bedlam askew

n'er to be silenced),
     aye felt near ready,
     viz no haw wing,
     nor hem ming – waze
     farewell call to peace monger...
     and arm Matthew
nine one one when
clear out of the blue

a resounding handy
     dandy bell lose clue
asper, a fitting notion pain
     fully apropos to applaud motley crue
i.e. strangers risk
     king life and limb,
     would definitely do,
no matter where persons

     stationed come thee
     ex-tolling bells morrow,
     (whence thee fateful
     seventeenth anniversary
     twill dolefully arrive -
somberly dawning for
     survivors and/or next of kin -
     less than twenty four

     hours from now),
     sans unforgettable tragedy
     indelibly etched will be recalled
     in a blinding
     fiery stormy flashback,
    where significant lost lives will replay,
     when weaponized airplanes
     took a kamikaze nose dive

a dwindling cadre,
     qua first line of defense,
     emergency civilian and/or military
     trained personnel jumped
     into the blizzard decimated fray,
     whereat selfless persons
     scurried (helter skelter like)
     all abustle analogous

     to a outsize bee hive
where 24/7 news
     broad casters did air
(nee blast) round
     the clock latest bulletins,
     could not escape incessant blare
ring frozen like a
     life size like sculpture

     seated in favorite easy chair
hypnotized by the sheer colossal
     utterly incomprehensible dare
devilish a state of emergency,
     the then president
     (George Walker Bush) did declare
dumb founded, slack jawed,
     and wicked deed

     waiting for horror
     to be recanted as an err
roar overloaded sensory circuits
     exceeded threshold,
     nonetheless listeners and/or
     viewers forced themselves to hear
live coverage far more appalling
     than any night mare.
Fabled, faded, and faint scars courtesy varicella,  
a highly contagious infection caused 
by varicella zoster virus can still be seen
unlike kids today inoculated during childhood,
thus youngsters deprived mild fever and 
rash of itchy inflamed blisters yours truly
contracted said infection bedridden, and
served tall glass of Ovaltine.

Within blink of eye, the medical practitioner
(Zieglerville CVS pharmacist) administered
first dose regarding inoculation against acute,
painful inflammation of nerve ganglia with
skin eruption often forming girdle around

middle of body approximately four months,
hence (early April 2020), I will eagerly avail
same upper arm to boost near total immunity
against aforementioned unpleasantness linked
tin with same virus as chickenpox, whereby

childhood virus inactive in nerve tissue near
spinal cord and brain years later reactivating,
manifesting, and blistering unannounced well
come, thus proactive decision to receive first
of two approved preemptive measures to stave

off unnecessary physical strife I acknowledge
gratitude for brilliant minds allowing, enabling,
and providing quality existence courtesy health
coverage courtesy medicare and/or medicaid.

Opportunistic encroachments vis a vis countless
micro-organisms gain traction where as climate
change avails colder polar regions become more
temperate exhuming former frozen land masses
increasing encroachment within once unforgiving
environments rendered (courtesy global warming)

most severely impacting populations least culpable
straight away bearing fossil fuel fallout brunt, plus
imposed with onerous task adopting sweeping life
style modalities never experiencing (analogously
figuratively savoring capitalistic trappings, where
livingsocial activated by sophisticated plush easy


chair commanding beck and call humanoid robots
(think Sleeper 1973 Woody Allen comedy) ennui
offset donning high tech virtual reality goggles to
blast into surreal webbed wide world while global
warming excites, kindles, quickens, snaps, crackles
and pops arousing panic lest holiday shopping not

complete madding crowds unaware there will soon
be end of civilization fire and liquidation sale ironic
since manufactured goods rendered an absolute zero
worth, while planet Earth smolders, where deep purple
people eaters amazingly gracefully daintily ravenously
relish fancy feast comprising grateful dead masquerade.
Ryan O'Leary Aug 4
Joe Biden said Richard Harris was a fine
Vice President and when elected will fit
In perfectly well, at the Ovaltine Office.

— The End —