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Many a green isle needs must be
In the deep wide sea of Misery,
Or the mariner, worn and wan,
Never thus could voyage on—
Day and night, and night and day,
Drifting on his dreary way,
With the solid darkness black
Closing round his vessel’s track:
Whilst above the sunless sky,
Big with clouds, hangs heavily,
And behind the tempest fleet
Hurries on with lightning feet,

He is ever drifted on
O’er the unreposing wave
To the haven of the grave.
What, if there no friends will greet;
What, if there no heart will meet
His with love’s impatient beat;
Wander wheresoe’er he may,
Can he dream before that day
To find refuge from distress
In friendship’s smile, in love’s caress?
Then ’twill wreak him little woe
Whether such there be or no:
Senseless is the breast, and cold,
Which relenting love would fold;
Bloodless are the veins and chill
Which the pulse of pain did fill;
Every little living nerve
That from bitter words did swerve
Round the tortured lips and brow,
Are like sapless leaflets now
Frozen upon December’s bough.

On the beach of a northern sea
Which tempests shake eternally,
As once the wretch there lay to sleep,
Lies a solitary heap,
One white skull and seven dry bones,
On the margin of the stones,
Where a few grey rushes stand,
Boundaries of the sea and land:
Nor is heard one voice of wail
But the sea-mews, as they sail
O’er the billows of the gale;
Or the whirlwind up and down
Howling, like a slaughtered town,
When a king in glory rides
Through the pomp and fratricides:
Those unburied bones around
There is many a mournful sound;
There is no lament for him,
Like a sunless vapour, dim,
Who once clothed with life and thought
What now moves nor murmurs not.

Ay, many flowering islands lie
In the waters of wide Agony:
To such a one this morn was led,
My bark by soft winds piloted:
’Mid the mountains Euganean
I stood listening to the paean
With which the legioned rooks did hail
The sun’s uprise majestical;
Gathering round with wings all ****,
Through the dewy mist they soar
Like gray shades, till the eastern heaven
Bursts, and then, as clouds of even,
Flecked with fire and azure, lie
In the unfathomable sky,
So their plumes of purple grain,
Starred with drops of golden rain,
Gleam above the sunlight woods,
As in silent multitudes
On the morning’s fitful gale
Through the broken mist they sail,
And the vapours cloven and gleaming
Follow, down the dark steep streaming,
Till all is bright, and clear, and still,
Round the solitary hill.

Beneath is spread like a green sea
The waveless plain of Lombardy,
Bounded by the vaporous air,
Islanded by cities fair;
Underneath Day’s azure eyes
Ocean’s nursling, Venice, lies,
A peopled labyrinth of walls,
Amphitrite’s destined halls,
Which her hoary sire now paves
With his blue and beaming waves.
Lo! the sun upsprings behind,
Broad, red, radiant, half-reclined
On the level quivering line
Of the waters crystalline;
And before that chasm of light,
As within a furnace bright,
Column, tower, and dome, and spire,
Shine like obelisks of fire,
Pointing with inconstant motion
From the altar of dark ocean
To the sapphire-tinted skies;
As the flames of sacrifice
From the marble shrines did rise,
As to pierce the dome of gold
Where Apollo spoke of old.

Sea-girt City, thou hast been
Ocean’s child, and then his queen;
Now is come a darker day,
And thou soon must be his prey,
If the power that raised thee here
Hallow so thy watery bier.
A less drear ruin then than now,
With thy conquest-branded brow
Stooping to the slave of slaves
From thy throne, among the waves
Wilt thou be, when the sea-mew
Flies, as once before it flew,
O’er thine isles depopulate,
And all is in its ancient state,
Save where many a palace gate
With green sea-flowers overgrown
Like a rock of Ocean’s own,
Topples o’er the abandoned sea
As the tides change sullenly.
The fisher on his watery way,
Wandering at the close of day,
Will spread his sail and seize his oar
Till he pass the gloomy shore,
Lest thy dead should, from their sleep
Bursting o’er the starlight deep,
Lead a rapid masque of death
O’er the waters of his path.

Those who alone thy towers behold
Quivering through aereal gold,
As I now behold them here,
Would imagine not they were
Sepulchres, where human forms,
Like pollution-nourished worms,
To the corpse of greatness cling,
Murdered, and now mouldering:
But if Freedom should awake
In her omnipotence and shake
From the Celtic Anarch’s hold
All the keys of dungeons cold,
Where a hundred cities lie
Chained like thee, ingloriously,
Thou and all thy sister band
Might adorn this sunny land,
Twining memories of old time
With new virtues more sublime;
If not, perish thou ldering:
But if Freedom should awake
In her omnipotence and shake
From the Celtic Anarch’s hold
All the keys of dungeons cold,
Where a hundred cities lie
Chained like thee, ingloriously,
Thou and all thy sister band
Might adorn this sunny land,
Twining memories of old time
With new virtues more sublime;
If not, perish thou and they!—
Clouds which stain truth’s rising day
By her sun consumed away—
Earth can spare ye; while like flowers,
In the waste of years and hours,
From your dust new nations spring
With more kindly blossoming.

Perish—let there only be
Floating o’er thy heartless sea
As the garment of thy sky
Clothes the world immortally,
One remembrance, more sublime
Than the tattered pall of time,
Which scarce hides thy visage wan;—
That a tempest-cleaving Swan
Of the sons of Albion,
Driven from his ancestral streams
By the might of evil dreams,
Found a nest in thee; and Ocean
Welcomed him with such emotion
That its joy grew his, and sprung
From his lips like music flung
O’er a mighty thunder-fit,
Chastening terror:—what though yet
Poesy’s unfailing River,
Which through Albion winds forever
Lashing with melodious wave
Many a sacred Poet’s grave,
Mourn its latest nursling fled?
What though thou with all thy dead
Scarce can for this fame repay
Aught thine own? oh, rather say
Though thy sins and slaveries foul
Overcloud a sunlike soul?
As the ghost of Homer clings
Round Scamander’s wasting springs;
As divinest Shakespeare’s might
Fills Avon and the world with light
Like omniscient power which he
Imaged ’mid mortality;
As the love from Petrarch’s urn,
Yet amid yon hills doth burn,
A quenchless lamp by which the heart
Sees things unearthly;—so thou art,
Mighty spirit—so shall be
The City that did refuge thee.

Lo, the sun floats up the sky
Like thought-winged Liberty,
Till the universal light
Seems to level plain and height;
From the sea a mist has spread,
And the beams of morn lie dead
On the towers of Venice now,
Like its glory long ago.
By the skirts of that gray cloud
Many-domed Padua proud
Stands, a peopled solitude,
’Mid the harvest-shining plain,
Where the peasant heaps his grain
In the garner of his foe,
And the milk-white oxen slow
With the purple vintage strain,
Heaped upon the creaking wain,
That the brutal Celt may swill
Drunken sleep with savage will;
And the sickle to the sword
Lies unchanged, though many a lord,
Like a **** whose shade is poison,
Overgrows this region’s foison,
Sheaves of whom are ripe to come
To destruction’s harvest-home:
Men must reap the things they sow,
Force from force must ever flow,
Or worse; but ’tis a bitter woe
That love or reason cannot change
The despot’s rage, the slave’s revenge.

Padua, thou within whose walls
Those mute guests at festivals,
Son and Mother, Death and Sin,
Played at dice for Ezzelin,
Till Death cried, “I win, I win!”
And Sin cursed to lose the wager,
But Death promised, to assuage her,
That he would petition for
Her to be made Vice-Emperor,
When the destined years were o’er,
Over all between the Po
And the eastern Alpine snow,
Under the mighty Austrian.
She smiled so as Sin only can,
And since that time, ay, long before,
Both have ruled from shore to shore,—
That incestuous pair, who follow
Tyrants as the sun the swallow,
As Repentance follows Crime,
And as changes follow Time.

In thine halls the lamp of learning,
Padua, now no more is burning;
Like a meteor, whose wild way
Is lost over the grave of day,
It gleams betrayed and to betray:
Once remotest nations came
To adore that sacred flame,
When it lit not many a hearth
On this cold and gloomy earth:
Now new fires from antique light
Spring beneath the wide world’s might;
But their spark lies dead in thee,
Trampled out by Tyranny.
As the Norway woodman quells,
In the depth of piny dells,
One light flame among the brakes,
While the boundless forest shakes,
And its mighty trunks are torn
By the fire thus lowly born:
The spark beneath his feet is dead,
He starts to see the flames it fed
Howling through the darkened sky
With a myriad tongues victoriously,
And sinks down in fear: so thou,
O Tyranny, beholdest now
Light around thee, and thou hearest
The loud flames ascend, and fearest:
Grovel on the earth; ay, hide
In the dust thy purple pride!

Noon descends around me now:
’Tis the noon of autumn’s glow,
When a soft and purple mist
Like a vapourous amethyst,
Or an air-dissolved star
Mingling light and fragrance, far
From the curved horizon’s bound
To the point of Heaven’s profound,
Fills the overflowing sky;
And the plains that silent lie
Underneath the leaves unsodden
Where the infant Frost has trodden
With his morning-winged feet,
Whose bright print is gleaming yet;
And the red and golden vines,
Piercing with their trellised lines
The rough, dark-skirted wilderness;
The dun and bladed grass no less,
Pointing from this hoary tower
In the windless air; the flower
Glimmering at my feet; the line
Of the olive-sandalled Apennine
In the south dimly islanded;
And the Alps, whose snows are spread
High between the clouds and sun;
And of living things each one;
And my spirit which so long
Darkened this swift stream of song,—
Interpenetrated lie
By the glory of the sky:
Be it love, light, harmony,
Odour, or the soul of all
Which from Heaven like dew doth fall,
Or the mind which feeds this verse
Peopling the lone universe.

Noon descends, and after noon
Autumn’s evening meets me soon,
Leading the infantine moon,
And that one star, which to her
Almost seems to minister
Half the crimson light she brings
From the sunset’s radiant springs:
And the soft dreams of the morn
(Which like winged winds had borne
To that silent isle, which lies
Mid remembered agonies,
The frail bark of this lone being)
Pass, to other sufferers fleeing,
And its ancient pilot, Pain,
Sits beside the helm again.

Other flowering isles must be
In the sea of Life and Agony:
Other spirits float and flee
O’er that gulf: even now, perhaps,
On some rock the wild wave wraps,
With folded wings they waiting sit
For my bark, to pilot it
To some calm and blooming cove,
Where for me, and those I love,
May a windless bower be built,
Far from passion, pain, and guilt,
In a dell mid lawny hills,
Which the wild sea-murmur fills,
And soft sunshine, and the sound
Of old forests echoing round,
And the light and smell divine
Of all flowers that breathe and shine:
We may live so happy there,
That the Spirits of the Air,
Envying us, may even entice
To our healing Paradise
The polluting multitude;
But their rage would be subdued
By that clime divine and calm,
And the winds whose wings rain balm
On the uplifted soul, and leaves
Under which the bright sea heaves;
While each breathless interval
In their whisperings musical
The inspired soul supplies
With its own deep melodies;
And the love which heals all strife
Circling, like the breath of life,
All things in that sweet abode
With its own mild brotherhood:
They, not it, would change; and soon
Every sprite beneath the moon
Would repent its envy vain,
And the earth grow young again.
jpl Jul 2013
last night I dreamt of a world with no money,
100,000 sunsets passing without a clash of a coin,
and the ghastly humans with copper under their nails
who spend all day dreaming of having gold there instead,
were nowhere to be found. Lurking near the oak trees
(which always stand, perpetual and insistent)
are aliens with smiles (perpetual and insistent)
who only feel happiness (that strange, absent feel)
and have free time to do free things with free minds
and don't have mankind's titanic burden of worry.
in my dream state I dreamt of states with no war,
poverty or famine, and I dreamt of leaders leading
and people peopling, and indeed the leaders lead
with no other incentive than purely to lead.
no money built walls between homes and lands,
no barriers put up between the wild untamed landscapes
nothing stopped people from traveling their world
that their ancestors created for them and seeing the
sights before they pass to the next stage, all of life
being free of charge, if that were a thing.
money never happened and no man laid awake at night
(or in a deep calm dreaming state) wishing of a world
with money. what would we offer the dreaming man?
a world of misery pain greed and men who dream of
the world the first dreaming man is in? no. it is
ludicrous and ridiculous.
last night I dreamt of a world with no money,
and I turned my head on my pillow and tried to dream
of a lonelier world.
while out and about
an unexpected over bare ring bout
to defecate arose,
     where sphincter asserted clout
and would excrete
     despite without doubt...

if closing distance
     (to reach rental abode)
beaten out by loosening sphincter muscle
     transmitting excretory code

set sights on prowl for outlawed, secluded,
     and wooded make shift commode
and essentially for naught negating
     toddler toilet training, sans

     getting ***** trained undone
     via my ***** ready to explode
and blast immense solid waste byproduct
     (oh...close to the size of Rhode Island)

thus a marathon race against time
found immediate readiness to pull off roadside  
     to access make shift water closet
     generating image firmly in pooping mode

     grabbing hold of a tree trunk
     (a mini rocky horror picture show, -
     this analogy included for no particular reason
     other than as a non-sequitur)

     and also to convey, how I tried
     to allay distractions
     while painful contractions flowed
(perhaps approximating a woman

     on verge of giving birth)
but...no matter, aye could envision,
     an ever increasing heavy mf* load
hence approaching Highland Manor Apartments

     this chap abandoned
     prior simultaneous evacuation plan
     starkly aware probability for secluded spot sunk
(nonetheless, thy darting darting

     anguish, futile lizard like lookout,
     a geico Gekko whose cheeks did blush
     even for a measly Georgian bush
quickened nsync with ****** spasms

     visual scouting industrialized
     where backhoes didst crush
once a time sacred happy hunting grounds
     of native Americans, now flush

with newly built vinyl city re: urban sprawl a gush,
where cookie cutter houses long since bringing hush
     puppies muzzled, yet never the less and mush
a doo doo about nothing) except sprint

     ting to a void push  
immortalizing indigenous tribes ghosts rush
peopling infrastructure affixing
     urbanization with their warrior whoosh!
If putsch comes to shove,
aye ain't no doggone fraidy cat
nor chicken little
fearing coup d'état,
yours truly simply
risk averse, and more exact,
he stays sequestered
within these four walls,
cuz tis safest inside this flat
always... mein kampf,

I remember when fertilization begat
after nine months in utero...
ah dat womb dar full habitat
i.e. ****** cradled humanity, whereat
teeming bajillions primates
peopling planet Earth
couples made lovey dovey after spat
(which species among
other flotsam and jetsam),

got shot out (think) analogous
muzzle loaded gat
excellent marksman aimed
then squirted packed heat hot
as summer temperature
gets within Gujarat
recorded courtesy, thee
oldest functioning thermostat,
albeit microcosmic primordial vat
testy sea men don

(May comb hairy
gah great again) conical hat.
I surmise proto humans
especially storied hall
(conjured in Peer Gynt
by Edvard Grieg
of mountain king)
trumpeted, tooted thwacked,
and announced presence
courtesy posterior primal mating call,

which vibrant cheekiness heard all
around the mulberry bush to Gaul
hmm... maybe e'en hot air
inspired Marc Chagall,
while sitting atop porcelain throne,
nonetheless scandalous
****** blasts methinks help explain fall
of Rome, whereby noxious
generated silent but deadly nauseating
noisome pall mall

felled friend and foe alike
analogous on minuscule
scale to Chernobyl
level 7 nuclear accident
also linkedin, when
Polar Vortex doth stall

across avast swath planet Earth
forcing quick thinkers to marshall,
what (mathers) matters
such as... antique pinball
machines worth a mint,
a ***** to install.
storm siren Aug 2016
Got me sweating
got me nervous
I'm worried and a little bit
unprepared.
got me scared.

but pleasure and passion
toil inside me
and I can feel all that I am
yearning for you
pooling in the pit
of my stomach.

my neck is red with
love you gave me
and my face is red
with a blush that
you put there.

and all in all
it's been a good day
but I'm no good
at peopling
and I'm no good
at speaking my mind
over my fears and anxieties.

I love you,
and while I am sore and somewhat impassioned,
I've found that I need you,
in more ways than one.
I love you, and I know you're reading this.
Presents the following slapdash
higglety-pigglety bupkis, whereby reader
experiences being mentally hogtied
perusing pseudo poetic perambulation
devoid of sense and sensibility
welcoming character assassination
concerning pride of yours truly,
who merely strung together
words sharing "arian"

as their last five letters
for no particular rhyme nor reason
quite aware that forced gobbledygook
underwrites storied reputation
of unnamed aspiring author
cramming nonsense linkedin
jibber-jabber hodgepodge fashion
deplorable basketed mumbo jumbo
giving pop slop a run for its' money.

Yours truly considers himself
(courtesy obsessive compulsive fixation
with alphabetization even when dreaming
counting sheep jumping
over figurative fence by first name)
drawn toward being abecedarian,
albeit hankers being agrarian, yet
I consider myself suburban simian
(a garden variety **** sapiens)
no more significant than alcyonarian

expressing his antiauthoritarian,
intolerance toward antiegalitarian,
antihumanitarian, antilibertarian,
agog over antiquarian tomes
replete with antitotalitarian manifesto
buzzfeeding ma (zee papa's)
sixty plus shades of gray,
cuz hive got news for you
courtesy doxy me, a generic erudite apiarian,
non-aquarian, once mighty araucarian,

(when during Jurassic and Cretaceous periods
our family achieved maximum diversity
distributed across almost entire
webbed wide world), nevertheless
one humble wordsmith
decries authoritarian, barbarian, Cesarean
segmentation of rooted centenarian elders
strongly resembling cnidarians,
who foster communitarian, contrarian
culinarian, disciplinarian,

disestablishmentarianism
decrees expatiating dogmatic,
emphatic, idealistic duly strict ethos
incorporating freedom of the press
documentarian, egalitarian
establishmentarian, filarian favoring fruitarian
disavowing jump/kickstaring futilitarian endeavors
administering grammarian, hereditarian,
questioning humanitarian
versus inegalitarian paradigms

celebrating progressive legislation
courtesy coterie as Democratic jubilarian
attributing insights to sustenance
comprising Diet of Worms
and laminarian, which boosts rock ribbed
lapidarian, libertarian, librarian lunarian,
who dons gay apparel and trumpets
majoritarian fly in the ointment milarian
espousing millenarian credo,
whereby absent free will necessitarian

forces at large effect staid
senior citizens, especially nonagenarian,
advocating nonauthoritarian, bookish nonlibrarian
nonsectarian, nontotalitarian, nonutilitarian,
beefy nonutilitarian, nonvegetarian,
and octogenarian brethren,
begat in part courtesy
ovarian haploid gamete,
which offspring could trend toward
ovolactovegetarian maybe collecting

parian ware adornments
pricey merchandise afforded
courtesy parliamentarian income
sessions conducted (without resistance),
whereby officials closely resemble
blood ******* planarian ceaselessly
patting each other
(and themselves) on the back
congratulating exulting,
gushing ala Old Faithful platitudinarian

attributing their foibles to postlapsarian
forebears awaiting salvation postmillenarian
bags already packed eagerly awaiting
deliverance into seventh heaven
as promised by divine predestinarian
a time analogous to virtuous age
of innocence re: prelapsarian
or lost souls peopling congress
and house of representatives
purportedly official do bidding

for proletarian class of population
once upon bajillion years
in the past initial life forms
similar to radiolarian
propelled themselves thru primordial sea
after lapse of eons diverse riparian organisms
with nary a hint of vocations such as
rosarian, sanitarian, sectarian seminarian
dedicated worker still going strong
as septuagenarian, or sexagenarian.
Courtesy mine eldest sister Amelie
Beth (thirteen plus months my senior),
whose maternal love equals heart as emoji,
she nsync with other kith and kin
painstakingly fleshed out family tree,
formerly severely uprooted, me

knowledge of ancestry
truncated, denuded..., bereft
any extended offshoots you see,
thus without doubt earned a priori
gene nee us award for peopling bee
silly decorative swallowtail and

wild asparagus coat of arms motif,
but particularly her artistry
paternal branch Harris and
maternal Russian limb named Kuritsky,
yet now unwittingly feel stumped
I ruminate, speculate, tabulate..., re:

garding one or more descendent did trumpet
objectionable bent with bias, decadent,
flagrant... haughty jarring averse trait
invariably patriarchal heir arch key
impossible impossible to hold figurative tongue
and rebuke stereotypical tendency

resigning, excluding, kraaling..., privileges
to any persons except Caucasian wealth thee
males, who fathered established, commandeered...
western civilization paradigm, I smart
with displeasure at gross injustice curtailed free
choice to acquire unshackled life, liberty,

and pursuit amidst avast booming population,
whose supposed inalienable rights blithely
usurped and denigrated creed, ethnicity,
and indisputably those with frizzy
hair still evident this late date two thousand
nineteen, I decry, grieve, lament,... particular lee

how women haint got no choice - chattel
to grand poobahs - to terminate pregnant sea
really irksome, when predicted on ******, ****
non viable offspring...violation this
garden variety poetaster recoils with knee
**** loathsome, how young females jailed
if they undergo abortion

(with unwanted, unloved, unborn..., bay bee
thru no fault in their own stars),
punishment nasty, brutal and abhorrent
essentially enslaving the gentler *** lee
ving terror and horror, when peering into mirror
ogre looming ready to strangle gal lest she
obey mandate else...
Here at Highland Manor apartments
me and the missus occupy room B44
courtesy qualified medical personnel
Lansdale, Penna CVS store #01379.

No qualm regarding being vaccinated
though yours truly NOT panic stricken
succumbing to aforementioned disease.

Although gaseous and prone to combust
heed words of caution lest ye turn to dust
on par with thermonuclear explosion gust
no guarantee insured courtesy Healthtrust
will keep ye intact not transformed into krust
an unflattering word according to online urban
dictionary meaning extremely unattractive girl
who nevertheless experiences capacity to lust.

Scenario being blown to bits courtesy flatulence
fate worse than death, yet plus side no expense
neither funeral nor cremation costs nevertheless
gastrointestinal eruption necessitates civil defense
albeit calling Army National Guard to commence
to evacuate fast as greased lightning suffocating
wracking, choking, etc unbreathable ambience.

I get inoculated against microscopic coronavirus
approximately two days ye probably feel desirous.

Continue to take proactive measures i.e. maintain
social distance don mask and wash hands advice
solicited by Anthony Fauci else cavalier devil may
care risk analogous to gambling or playing dice
whereby rigor mortis sets latest statistic cold as ice
who knows maybe dead soul shunted to paradise.

Latest pandemic NOT last microbe human beast
will challenge resourceful **** sapiens species
severely challenged throughout and nearly ceased
to flourish innumerable times when deadly disease
did satiate grim reaper with (think smörgåsbord feast)
civilization experienced figurative low water mark
bleak prognostication if prediction made when least
odds favored man/womankind who nearly lost leased.

Biologically deft transmitting genes by peopling Earth
fecund gals bearing children heavy around their girth
metaphorically chomping at the bit tending domestic
tasks preparing meals call of wild heard by animals
drawing fierce predators e'er closer aromatic hearth
rustic storytellers grunting primal laughter and mirth.

Gratitude extended to intelligent minds that toil away
enhancing quality and longevity of existence keeping
ravages of once fatal illnesses and/or mortality at bay
additionally those whose culinary draw allow, enable
and provide foods choices regarding healthy entree
sculpted edible delights exquisite glistening imitation
mouth watering sweet treats that trigger viz Fabergé
temptations tantalizing taste buds - me diet... no way!
Hey foreigner!
Search the world map
Find shapes, don’t nap
Dog’s sitting there!

West – Pacific
Orient facing
Seems West guarding
Though Asiatic.

Blacks – first people
Browns – main settlers
Whites – once rulers
Peopling simple.

Asia’s old friend
China, India
And Arabia
But West to rend.

Heel Islamized
Yet, Spaniards came
And made it tame
Rest Christianized.

America’s
First Asian pet
New rule beget
Foreigners pass.

When the dog’s free
From charms of boss
Suffered weight loss
Makes self hungry.

But, its puppies
Away from thee
Fills their tummy
Return booties.

When stocks will store
Wisely by host
Future’s not lost
New things explore.

Filipino –
The “World’s Servant”
Role’s important
Yellow halo!

-11/27/2011
(Dumarao)
*First Incubus Collection
My Poem No. 65
I feel honored, and flattered to acquaint myself (a married youthful looking sexagenarian solitudinarian from southeastern Montgomery County, Pennsylvania), yet feel awkward at jump/kick starting a rapport.

Literate lettered latitudinarian looms larger than life

Presents the following slapdash
higglety-pigglety bupkis, whereby reader
experiences being mentally hogtied
perusing pseudo poetic perambulation
devoid of sense and sensibility
welcoming character assassination
concerning pride and prejudice
of yours truly (me),
who merely strung together
words sharing "arian"

as their last five letters
for no particular rhyme nor reason
quite aware that forced gobbledygook
underwrites storied reputation
of unnamed aspiring author
cramming nonsense linkedin
jibber-jabber hodgepodge fashion
deplorable basketed mumbo jumbo
giving pop slop a run for its' money.

Yours truly (me) considers himself
(courtesy obsessive compulsive fixation
with alphabetization even when dreaming
counting sheep jumping
over figurative fence by first name)
drawn toward being abecedarian,
albeit hankers being agrarian,
yet I consider myself suburban simian
(a garden variety **** sapiens)
no more significant than alcyonarian

expressing his antiauthoritarian,
intolerance toward antiegalitarian,
antihumanitarian, antilibertarian,
agog over antiquarian tomes replete
with antitotalitarian manifesto buzzfeeding
ma (zee papa's) sixty plus shades of gray,
cuz hive got news for you
courtesy me, a generic erudite apiarian,
non-aquarian, once mighty araucarian,
(when during Jurassic
and Cretaceous periods

our family achieved maximum diversity
distributed across almost entire
webbed wide world), nevertheless
one humble wordsmith
decries authoritarian, barbarian, Cesarean
segmentation of rooted centenarian elders
strongly resembling cnidarians,
who foster communitarian, contrarian
culinarian, disciplinarian,
disestablishmentarianism

decrees expatiating dogmatic,
emphatic, idealistic duly strict ethos
incorporating freedom of the press
documentarian, egalitarian
establishmentarian, filarian favoring fruitarian
disavowing jump/kickstaring futilitarian endeavors
administering grammarian, hereditarian,
questioning humanitarian
versus inegalitarian paradigms
celebrating progressive legislation

courtesy coterie as Democratic jubilarian
attributing insights to sustenance
comprising Diet of Worms
and laminarian, which boosts rock ribbed
lapidarian, libertarian, librarian lunarian,
who dons gay apparel and trumpets
majoritarian fly in the ointment milarian
espousing millenarian credo,
whereby absent free will necessitarian
forces at large effect staid

senior citizens, especially nonagenarian,
advocating nonauthoritarian, bookish nonlibrarian
nonsectarian, nontotalitarian, nonutilitarian,
beefy nonutilitarian, nonvegetarian,
and octogenarian brethren,
begat in part courtesy
ovarian haploid gamete,
which offspring could trend toward
ovolactovegetarian maybe collecting
parian ware adornments

pricey merchandise afforded
courtesy parliamentarian income
sessions conducted (without resistance),
whereby officials closely resemble
blood ******* planarian ceaselessly
patting each other
(and themselves) on the back
congratulating exulting, gushing
ala Old Faithful platitudinarian
attributing their foibles to postlapsarian

forebears awaiting salvation postmillenarian
bags already packed eagerly
awaiting deliverance into seventh heaven
as promised by divine
predestinarian time analogous
to virtuous age of innocence
re: prelapsarian or lost souls peopling congress
and house of representatives
purportedly official do bidding
for proletarian class of population

once upon bajillion years
in the past initial life forms
similar to radiolarian
propelled themselves thru primordial sea
after lapse of eons diverse riparian organisms
with nary a hint of vocations
such as rosarian, sanitarian, sectarian
seminarian dedicated worker
still going strong
as septuagenarian, or sexagenarian.

adieu from one:
solitudinarian sublibrarian totalitarian trinitarian
turbellarian uniformitarian unitarian utilitarian
valetudinarian pseudo vegetarian veterinarian
and vulgarian zoantharian.
Jonas May 15
Bulgaria,
08.40,leaving from sector 2
You pay with the driver
You can stick your head out of the window
Watch meadows and cows pass by
Chewing in indifference

The market is every wednesday
I wish they'd lay better pavement
1kg and one apple please
We want to have a bbq later
In the rain
You fill my heart
But my tummy can't keep up

Sure, the Dixi is available
But there is always the option of being a friend of nature
And **** in the woods
The cave is one of the biggest in Europe
Which means
It's tall enough to fit a horse
He told me, holding hands with his wive
Of over 30 years
They wouldn't let me pay for the ticket

A day in the park
People are peopling
Yes that's a word, now
I'm people too
Yet it irritates me when they remind me
Here, I picked these daisies
Three of them, they're for you
Ne razbiram, sorry
Caho, chao!

Did you know?
The black sea is milky
And cold
The Roma

  I see them in my mind’s eyes
walking through the landscape walking forever
their horses, children, dogs and women in black
a slow wander through the world and to the next
unstoppable they are from planet to planet
peopling the universe.
Often misunderstood and murdered for being
different from us, but it is not possible because
they are God’s children.
They are us we are the children but have yet to
discover we are the sacred, the Roma
we despise, we hate what we have become.
Describes celibate bent aegis.
Mein kampf illustrates gravitas.

Underdog muted lest intimidation
think bully brandishing fist in my face
threatening to buzzfeed me
a brassy knuckle sandwich.

While breezily reading Judy Bloom,
(whose material geared
toward young adult)
book titled Blubber - published in 1974,
(which year found yours truly - me
undergoing amazing transition
classified as puberty)
bemoaned childhood's end - id est mine
interestingly enough romanticized boyhood
livingsocial within Lake Woebegone

(way before Garrison Keillor
named said fictitious town),
purely swiftly tailored
harried styled fabrication,
although that first decade
found torturous growing up years
more so courtesy
self exclusion from reindeer games,
thus during lunch or recess
(two most favorite classes)

bullies turned me into minced meat
taunted and teased
a severely socially withdrawn boy,
who never shared emotional agony,
he internalized verbal slings and arrows
eventually physically succumbed
from brickbats indiscriminately
lobbed at painfully shy
once upon a time happy go lucky lad,
(with a button nose),

when he whiled away days of his life
as the world turned
first at Lantern Lane
for about a half dozen plus years,
then at 324 Level Road
for approximately
one third of present existence
unbeknownst to him
that psychologically dark shadows
lurked within the outer limits

of the twilight zone
haunting corporeal essence
attached to those lovely bones,
now saddled with excess adipose tissue,
especially around belly of the beast
housing hunger artist
starving for knowledge,
and peopling his overactive imagination
with exemplary protagonists
blithely thwarting incendiary threats,

cuz of natural born defense against
gunning character assassination
courtesy fearsome imbeciles
hell bent on nasty, short and brutish fiends,
who did their collective bidding
vis-à-vis cut throat leviathan,
who overshadowed and locked in
propensity to live free and clear
analogous to unfettered noble savage
cannibalizing yours truly (me) as fancy feast.

Soul asylum salvation sought
as if survivor of mental health challenges  
akin to foreigner trying
to sidestep gingerly self annihilation.

— The End —