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One insignificant, infinitesimal
incomprehensibleness cosmic speck,
who doth readily confess
swallowed within

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thus, I helm ship of state into black void
alone within cosmos, yes...overjoyed!
Joseph Zenieh Apr 2018
GIVE ME A SIGNAL, LORD.

No length of time on earth to lose
Without an aim that cools the heart.
Life is too short; use all the clues
To find life gist ere you depart.

Life is a chance to find your peace
When you a mighty goal achieve.
Then fear of time you will erase
As you the pith of life conceive.

Your peace may come from works of art
That leave on earth a glorious fame
Which keeps you glowing as a fact,
And your torch shines as brilliant flame.

The greatest gift is just to know
And get of second life so sure.
Can we  gain it through what we do
Or through what God on us confer?

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
Satsih Verma Feb 2018
Go to the speaking moon
to fell the stars,
and to learn a way of becoming―
unbeing.

It was a rough ride.
How could you open the
fist of darkness
and see in absolute nihility?

Can you unattach me,
when I was seeking your pith
in my poems?

Come to me with unarmed
lies, to fight with my truths.
Life is very short and I have―
many things to do.
sandra wyllie Jun 2022
woman. They see the polish
and brass, not inside the glass. They see
a shiny orange, not the seeds or
the pith. Not the woman,

just a myth. The men have
a crush on red lipstick and cream
blush. They can't do better
than a fuzzy low-cut sweater. It's sweet

to kiss cherry-painted toes than to rub
the soles of a woman with flab and
rolls. A woman that's walked for miles
carrying her load in smiles. A woman

that's danced in the rain squeezing in
her pain tightly like a corset. No man
can endorse it.
Equally
Make believe

He, on a dirt road that kept getting longer

She, under the covers of a violent room
Holding the pith and pits to her ear

Put her on repeat
Puppy tailed circles
Wrapped around wedding bands
They wake up to a golden hour
Every window washed with a river, a snake
When a poet dies
people mostly
just feeĺ sad

When a poet dies
very few people
shed tears from
their eyes

They just lock away
the memory
of how the poet
made them feel
deep within the pith
of their heart

When a poet dies
few can stand to read
their words

The death a rapier
to their emotional
insights and all
their bywords

Rather they transend
the limits of their
boundries and we let
them rest in peace
Spouse of my eldest sister
marital bond fixed in place
strong as mortise and tenon,
he hales of hearty Irish stock
genes of said septuagenarian
analogous to pith and marrow
wrought courtesy divine providence.

At present aforementioned brother in law
recuperating after orthopedic surgeon
alleviated severe pain
NOT linkedin to damaged, injured,
and ossified rotator cuff
as initially surmised, nevertheless
temporarily forcing kinsman
to become a southpaw.

Thankful his insurance coverage
picked up what I imagine
to be a hefty tab to cover cost
of surgical spine procedure,
whereat the discs located
between the vertebrae C4 thru C7
were bulging and pressing significantly
into spinal cord nerves.

Three discs delicately removed
fragmented discs taken out tweezer like
and titanium pieces put in their place.

Months long physical therapy
will build back better
common Joe biden his time
to trump and amp up body electric.

Today (March 29th, 2024),
I recently spoke with Amelie
over the telephone
(the above referenced sibling
in first line of poem),
whose aura, charisma, dogma,
karma, and persona
fully yet unpretentiously regaling
her unbridled love
larding with emotional munificence
effecting, eliciting, embodying,
and exhibiting love in plain view
genuine care and concern
lavished toward him,
whom she pledged her troth
methinks more'n thirty five years ago.

As a longtime surveyor
for Gloucester County, New Jersey
he acquired familiarity
with tools of the trade
and truckload of skills to boot.

Prime years of his life
working hard schlepping, and positioning
moderately heavy duty equipment;
no doubt ofttimes
said weighty implements,
I imagine said paraphernalia routinely
being figuratively toted, lugged,
and dragged across all types of terrain
(while being exposed
to elements of nature)
making precise measurements
to determine property boundaries;

providing data relevant to features
of the Earth's surface,
such as shape and contour,
for engineering, mapmaking,
construction, and other purposes
back breaking physical labor
taxing his then robust
essentially got paid exerting
conditioning, and applying
his brute strength
courtesy the sweat of his brow
yielded laudatory results.

Exemplary track record
(as a career employee
acquiring well deserved promotions)
plus stellar report card
regarding characteristics of attendance,
performance, and punctuality
allowed, enabled and provided
current accumulated earned paid time off
countless months to recover from
major necessary operation
videlicet outstanding team of specialists
at prestigious Virtua Voorhees Hospital.
Logan Turner Oct 2021
I'm trying so hard to live for myself
Not the invisible folk who pick at my head
Twisted fiction claws up my throat
Pieces of heart spit back out

Spent many nights wretching
Trying to wash them out
Now I supress them
Squashed heads of doubt
Read all about
It just can't be real

Just give me a chance and I'll prove that I exist
Just someone please prove my souls not myth
Scrape off the excess
Off the filth and the pith
Remove this rotten abscess
It makes me feel sick
Rickie Louis Jan 2020
It's instinctual
To want to look away
Once contact is made

Often it's what I do
Impeding anxiety
That they may first
(look away)

I want to peer deep
Beyond the ambiance of your blue
Connecting to within, you

It's not what I see
But what I feel
Pith to crux
Eye to eye
Bob B Mar 2023
Did God create human beings,
Or was it the other way around?
The question resembles a Zen koan--
Such as the one-handed clapping sound.

To some, merely asking the question
Is a virtual powder keg.
It's like the question: What came first--
Was it the chicken, or was it the egg?

Some things are beyond knowing:
We can only speculate
As to how and why we got here.
It's still fun to contemplate.

The writers of all religious scriptures
Have a bias they choose to share.
They hope that their ideas will make
Curious, hungry believers aware.

The story behind human existence
To some is a matter of great pith.
Others have a difficult time
Accepting a simple creation myth.

Some folks are not satisfied
And want to gaze beyond the façade--
Beyond the human formulations
That try to define the concept of God.

People adhere to what makes sense
To them, and some of them will chide me,
For I prefer to allow science,
Reason, and common sense to guide me.

Being able to think and question
Are benefits of humankind.
So who created whom? The query
Will always challenge the questioning mind.

-by Bob B (3-20-23)
Misty mountain heights
too precipitous and craggy to tread.
We imagine infinite possibilities
and traverse the talus instead.
Wandering through frost bitten landscapes
the macabre gruesome of yore.
Sentience breeds visions of panacea
entreating us to ask for more.
But enigma is a treacherous tirade
and the berserker is at the door.
Revulsions list toward recompense
reality seems a *****
The wanton wayward gist of pith
is diabolical dementia.
How to accomplish bailiff’s rake
while preserving in-absentia.
There is no more impunity
for those who live with sooth.
And yet our souls would long for grace
and try to call it truth.
sandra wyllie Oct 2022
leave smiles
no frowns
leave high
not down

leave lore
not guff
leave pith
no fluff

leave gifts
no scars
leave wings
not bars

leave cheer
not rue
happy memories
not blue
Universe Poems Aug 2021
Take me into your class,
but don't single me out,
when the bell rings clout
Sit by my wheelchair,
if you wish,
talk to me,
with some human pith
Don't stare,
my legs are my chair
When I scream out,
or swear,
some doubt,
the communication,
is what I am about,
my own way,
to speak my emotions,
of how I am feeling,
and, what I have to say
I feel sick,
give me a bag,
dustbin please,
some privacy,
to let me ***** freely
Don't look at me,
when I walk up to the disabled toilet door,
my needs are not for your score
A Human
A Person
Feelings
Human Rights Version dealings

© 2021 Carol Natasha Diviney
Outward slovenly appearance bespeaks volumes
wordsworth their weight in gold
(exhumed from the pith
of these lovely bones -
beclothed with mottled skin)
presages afterlife of hellish horror
(think Dante's inferno),
nevertheless a respite from earthly torture
wracking mein kampf since conception.

I lived without great expectations
diploid on an impossible mission
set in motion courtesy
triggered pleasure zones,
when natural propensity toward mortality
yielded mutual intense
or paroxysmal excitement
after unbridled love making
between then young parents of mine
approximately circa early/mid April
nineteen hundred and fifty eight.

Begot upon initial cleavage of two gametes
genetic fate decreed upon yours truly,
when nine months later a scrawny boy
traversed thru the birth canal uneventfully
into the hands of waiting obstetrician.

Mother placed me near her *****,
where I busted thru ample cleavage
nursed courtesy milk of human kindness
until she became high and dry
pacified scraggly baby,
who screamed at the top of his little lungs
possibly linked to submucous palate
split uvula - diagnosed years later
by specialist at Lancaster Cleft palate clinic.

Severe nasality as Aladdin in grade school
linkedin with extreme introvertedness
grist for the role as scapegoat
bully me pronounced
major inferiority complex prevailed.

Suicidal ideation throve
as unhealthy psychological bumper crop:
I cared not a whit for mine body, mind, and soul
negligent hygienic habits - unkempt appearance
abhorred cleanliness, greaseball outlier
videlicet witnessed infrequent visits
to bathing or showering facilities
let hair grow long and ratty, and shaggy
passive aggressive stance
toward family of origin members
sought refuge in mine bedroom
remained metaphorically hermetically sealed
until emerging adulthood
entrenched, fixated, and glued
to aforementioned behavioral traits.

Challenged, piqued, and
tested and tried patience of parents
passed their threshold of tolerance.

Overstayed welcome at 324 Level Road
at the receiving end of hollow ultimatums
browbeaten courtesy damning epithets
fueled glowering hatred, issuing kickass
brickbats, out the mouths of mommy dearest or
papa, silently internalized their vicious wrath.

Smoldering rage within me tamped down
as brilliant comeuppance
did not visit mother on her deathbed,
nevertheless wept profusely
while wailing "I love you" over the telephone,
and every May fourth -
since two thousand and five
crafted commemorative poems,
she always asked
for written acknowledgement
at the least remembering her birthday -
November thirteenth -
from second born and singular son.

No escape from
being called oppressive scatological names,
neither at home nor at school,
and including riding the bus
brutal, short and nasty invectives
assaulted my sensitive eardrums
of course with futility
impossible mission to deflect
blacked banal barbs,
whether besieging me

from so called wonderful,
albeit infuriated parents
continually wounding mine ego,
which pride of self never robust
subsequently such regular
(unleaded) cruelty outsourced to every ogre
witnessed an aggrieved boy
silently pained courtesy
whiplash of words accosting consciousness
submissively accepting battering

haranguing, poisoning, stinging
standing stockstill
forbearance vetting psyche,
the tragedy exhibited
by stoic facade and charade
generating absolute zero responsiveness
from an introverted
anxiety plagued youngster,
who grew up emotionally,
physically and spiritually stunted
scratching out pathetic poetry.
sandra wyllie Jan 2020
Drones that ****
Oil spills
The ocean is flooded with debris
They’re cutting down the trees
Shootings in school
People are cruel
What’s happened to this world?
Boys are girls
Girls are boys
There’s no more joy
in who you are
Walk around wearing your scars
Pray there isn’t a third world war
They’ll selling opioids outside your door
Who’s the next to hang himself with
Is this a poem of pith?
Having *** with a robot
Alcohol, **** and ***
Lance Sep 2024
My heart is unpleasant and distant.

Maybe, in a boulevard of mind's musing
And a disgruntled man
This battered throb is a utopia
That is ever for the ample loved
For the enough affirms and all that matches

The flesh of scarcely, it liberates something like;
A melody of lover's sigh
A language only true hearts speak.
A voyage where emotions navigate.

How my thoughts always reign
The upsides wane
Below its pith, to its veins
Like wilted-beat of rhythms or a fainted bloke
That searching for his sane

And every little thing I had felt blooming within
I ought luminously, beyond.

I just sham
I don't.
my old account got hacked
Aditya Roy May 2020
Through my jagged
Rhymes mine and yours
My time be tattered
My words cloaked by daggers
Rusting and broken-unclipped
Slightly tragic
Shall have some lyric
Inasmuch much ragged pith
If your love is for us dogged creatures
It finds a prickly finish
Much like a yellow rose that hides
In a thorned spine
Tearing your fabric
To reveal your true nature
Based on an Middle English poem.
poetryaccident Nov 2018
I asked if I was beautiful
in the form I am entrapped
while seeking forms now estranged
by a nature based on genes

the world rejoined remarks
my choices made to enclose
a body defying norms
when fitting into the gowns

splendour was obscured
lost while it’s explained
a flurry of here and there
combined to share the pith

this goddess lost to sight
hoping some will see the belle
in garments of lady’s shade
glamour of the heart

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181102.
The poem “Of The Heart” is about seeking to share expressions of personal beauty.
Joseph Zenieh Apr 2019
HAVE WE THOUGHT ABOUT IT ?
Parents, do you know what you have done ?
You have brought a person to the world.
He has his own feelings and his fear,
and his path will end up in the ground.

Life contains the frowning and the glad.
That depends on parents and their pith.
You can make him love the gifts of life
or the afterlife with all its wealth.

Can those who depend on earth give proof
that the world is such a nice place,
or prepare a proof the afterlife
can't endow him all the precious bliss ?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________
I (a lapsed milquetoast) experienced
a head splitting hellacious hangover.

I tried to be part of Cool And Gang by being "bad"
to the thoroughly good bone, er...
which trend followed me till man hood,
whereby this bloke still a cad
plus the most
embarrassing older hippy dad
where a shaved pierced pate egad
seems to be the latest fad
boot this nonestablishmentarian
feels more content with himself and glad
though as a precocious

whipper snapper of young lad
did act like "Curious George",
which found me late mum
and then octogenarian
widower father quite mad,
especially when breaking
into the liquor cabinet in me ***** pad
and nearly escaped by a scad
dad dull when the hide o me buttocks
whacked more'n a tad.

Though in a ******* party
rock n rolling crowd,
I (a kung foo fighter
beastie boy) felt alone
yea, as this chap looks back
on them daredevil days
(with behaviour bad to the bone
as iterated above),
and dealt with pounding in ma head
that caused me to groan
which mental sounds

of jack hammers
found this current teetotaler to moan
like the ghost of Marley or a whaler, whereby
even whisper down the alley
or over the phone
also affected me skin tone
to become altered
into an unstoppable
red bullish twilight zone
tortured courtesy MALEVOLENT MENTAL Maelstroms -
doggone hounded me while in a drunken stupor

videlicet - I taste a liquor never brewed (214)
courtesy Emily Dickinson
1830 –
1886
I taste a liquor never brewed –
From Tankards scooped in Pearl –
Not all the Frankfort Berries
Yield such an Alcohol!
Inebriate of air – am I –
And Debauchee of Dew –
Reeling – thro' endless summer days –
From inns of molten Blue –
When "Landlords" turn the drunken Bee
Out of the Foxglove's door –
When Butterflies – renounce their "drams" –
I shall but drink the more!
Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats –
And Saints – to windows run –
To see the little Tippler
Leaning against the – Sun!

Fiendish and gruesome
phantasmagoric egomaniacal denizens
dwelt deep inside
subterranean uber vault
performed an evil contra dance
haunted psychic landscape
with imaginary (yet realistic)
gargoyle visitations that cast a macabre trance
nocturnal unconscious invaders of the lost Ark
cavorted and gallivanted
disturbed quiescent sleep
with devilish and sinister prance.

Apparitions crept stealthily
into peaceful slumber receptacle
repository, whence illusory landscape of dreams
took place to rejuvenate
exhausted body, mind and spirit triage
rented asunder blissful sleep with a startled fright
cold sweat drenched
nighttime garments and bedding
teeth chattered uncontrollably
heart pounded loudly inside chest
nightmarish phantoms
wrought an awful ghoulish sight.

Mushroom cloud anniversary
triggered frenzied gargantuan hallucination
seventy nine plus years ago today
inauguration into atomic age took place
one country after another sought
to acquire demonic and destruction devices
to maintain self-preservation
in this surreal atomic weapons race
impossible mission to escape the dark threat
that looms and threatens life on earth
one launched missile
spells extermination across entire global space.

No escape from humankind military machines
munitions march mean madness
death by a thousand cuts
flesh deboned courtesy knife
and guaranteed demise to all life
**** sapiens violent history
of bias, intolerance and/or prejudice
characterizes vicious warfare
and chronic species strife
legacy for future,
(and perhaps alien) archeologists,
who will sift thru civilization
debris with delicate as birthing a newborn
with assistance by midwife.

Artifacts buried in a heap
of pulverized and radioactive ash
civilization monuments and hedonistic symbols
gone in a blinding brilliant flash
irksome flotsam and jetsam
spewed into outer space
alien nations light years distant
collect miniscule bits and pieces
offer object lesson as extinction
for beings that become excessively brash.

As a way to bury wounded knees,
free guilt sans
being psychologically trapped,
and wrath of my strict parents,
I imagined awaiting an eternity
for my modified sentence
against being secular humanist
individualist, minimalist, nihilist...,

no way to dodge
fiat decreeing penal solitude
for this rambling future man,
who felt unready to kick the can
on account of violating ban
against abominable illegal mandate
with no way to commute death sentence
for the simple act of voicing opinion

against existence of heavenly gate,
nor hellish underworld
despite religious ****** decreeing penance
spurious pedagogical poetic rant
not the ravings of some half mad lunatic
carefully plotted recitation that springs
from combined teachings of Kant
and jolly old Saint Nick

charges ******* up
per this average don
purportedly flagrantly
decrying and blaspheming
Judeo-Christian paradigm
proselytizing devout believers
with disenchantment blind faith no more
equated with hill of beans upon,

which dogma erected epitomized
by complex edifices via grime
sweat and tears from slave labor,
where usurpation of freedom won
until outspoken spokespersons
risked life and limb
to invalidate the existence
of supreme deity who created life

whether for extra credit
or perhaps on a whim
Adam from whose rib cage
without anesthesia but razor sharp knife
sported Eve with a physique
quite pleasing and trim,
but rather than get lost
in the garden of Eden myth

final seconds of existence tick away
without intent to recant statements
solely acceptable to B'nai B'rith
prompting last words of mine as oy vey
with no regrets - deeming heart
of religion flimsy as pith
thing in the wind or house of cards
vulnerable to blow away.

Though ma mum deceased nineteen and a half plus years ago, and thine papa inching closer toward the inescapable clutch of the grim reaper (when these words typed – he long since passed October 7th, 2020), I revel to be a conscious individual despite the torturous road from those perilous days of yore er rather mine earlier formative pages when the strong armed lance of ignorance jabbed me with toad dull ambivalence evolving from the fusion of two cells after froggy went a courtin.

HANDMADE FROM (the genes of) BOYCE AND HARRIET HARRIS -
(free versatile poetry my atypical mode (modus operandi) at describing, introducing, and decoding myself).

How apropos and divine to stumble (merely by happenstance) across a chance to claim my (virtual) fifteen minute fragments of fame just in the click and nick of time.

Although gainfully unemployed (do to a series of unfortunate events that now finds me receiving social security disability), I can still vividly visualize utter despair and vouchsafe to acquire the requisite trappings emblematic of psychic misfortune.

Indelible, permanent and unfading abysmal damaging domestic dynamics got etched deep upon the memory of this erstwhile individual.

The general gist in the form of quick brush strokes (namely written) of psychologically traumatizing recollection now follows.

I can attest to malevolent mean-spirited objections by my father (and late mother) in regard to my grossly unacceptable attire, deportment and work ethic.

Nonetheless, a sense of righteous vindictiveness manifested itself thru attendant Pyrrhic victories.

Back in those days I (a married grown adult male and considerably past the age of rebelling against authoritarianism - and also their one and only not so prodigal son) poorly wore the mantle and staff of supposed maturity.

Lack of compliance and obeisance with regulations and rules of the Harris household (mainly thru being in constant denial to conform, maintaining emotional detachment and estrangement and evincing little or no concern for other family members) brewed, festered and lied dormant during prepubescence.

The pressure and tension between and betwixt genetic kinfolk (so palpable one could sense an indomitable barrier), would rank as successfully dysfunctional way before such nom de guerre became in vogue.

Fury and wrath became markedly and noticeably pronounced once exiting the storied four walls of high school.

The venomous barrage and fusillade spewed forth from off parental tongues at an exponential rate and on a par to feeling the stinging cudgel of a horsewhip.

Out of fear and timidity, I consequently and silently absorbed cruel treatment.

Neither the eldest nor youngest sibling bore witness against the tender spirit of their only brother.

A façade as of a hardened (statue) conveniently adopted.

This embodiment poorly served to fend off the onslaught of incessant anger.

This defense mechanism (identified as passive aggressive by mom) offered miniscule protection as I mentally dodged lobbed insults and affected defiance (in league like poisoned blackened bards and daggers hurled) of said threats and ultimatums.

No matter these bitter pills of blaring character assassination (mine), denunciations, fulminations, incriminations, intimidations, vociferous vocalizations (by said parents), I stood the shifting sands characterizing my ground at playing the deaf mute, which repression and internalization of emotional maelstrom only caused self contamination and manifestation of humiliation.

They (dad and mom) became further angered and inflamed per my total oblivious stance.

This reaction added insult to injury.

Deliverance per tough love lessons amplified to the tune of additional feats at becoming excoriated, ranted and raved against this, that and the other of my habits and nonchalant indifference to pursue work.

Those involuntary, unrehearsed and vicious family chats happened to be replete with heavily exploding and uncorked anger.

That (of course) would be a considerable understatement.

Dad (the de facto, elected and nominal spokesperson for unpleasant chest thumping exclamations - which conveniently took place no earlier than the stroke of midnight - emphatically swore (adrip with dramatic livid rage - like rabid beast) all manner of vulgarity and demanded from this insolent appearing male offspring immediate compliance.

Defiance and fatigue offered him that predictable and usual blank stare upon hearing the kind and lenient sentence to pack bags and GET OUT!

With the dreaded approach of dire and sealed fate (played out in this overactive imagination of mine with dad and mom fiendishly and grotesquely expunging themselves of any last vestige personal belonging), I most anxiously bided my time.

Those next couple weeks forced self-evaluation of Atheism, while I hunkered down in my bedroom.

The recurrent consideration of relinquishing nonestablishmentarian paradigm in favor and lieu with God, miracles and salvation seemed to clash with being this liberal thinker.

As indicated, the tempest and tirade quickly got turned back upon those who so masterfully tormented this second born, whose steadfast stoicism and subservience to a higher power perchance brought a temporary respite.

That hollow deadline, (which happened to be just one of many similar sputtering swearing valuations of love) blithely came and went without incident - no matter expletive filled intense oath to remove self from premises at 324 Level Road) continued to keep pulsating to remain an occupant with kinfolk.

What caused especial ire and wrath to fester (per this apparent ambivalence, indifference and nonchalance for me to take any job - even shoveling **** - particularly within the emotional bedrock and firmament of deceased mother) constituted remembrance and vivid reminder of her father.

My maternal grandfather (Morris - Moshe - Kuritsky) supposedly never paid much heed to regular and steady employment (to support his four children and wife) despite his skill as a harried styled swift tailor.

Hence my mother (Harriet) grew up and lived in utter destitution and poverty.

Mother subsequently reacted with ferocious vindictiveness upon witnessing a near magic transformation of near identical behavior in Matthew - the single heir to the family name.

I avoid alcohol
yet still have a ball
when the bell of inquisitiveness doth call
this mindful male toward productive pursuits
rather than fall
prey to temptations of vice only deliver gall
down the unmarked hall
of future time,
as likened to evade the maul
from some ferocious beast
or an urgent plight to retch
ideally within a toilet stall
perhaps faded splattered by stains on the wall
of other anonymous imbibers - good day y'all.
as jagged bolts of lightning
tore thru the the midnight clear
and figuratively ripped the sky to shreds
(analogous to jumping Jack flash),
and ear splitting thunder crackled
testing the threshold of tolerance
zombies of Sugar Hill came alive
and danced to the sound of music,
exhibiting spot on choreography
to the late Michael Jackson's thriller album,
whereat despite feigned affableness
of ineradicable purple creepy people eaters ,
the ghoulish fiendish beasts
wantonly ravaged entire hectares
(once flush with royally bountiful crops)
leaving farmer in the dell
thus rendering impossible mission
to sing Hi-**, the derry-o,
cuz his countenance
plastered with a poker face
and future offspring born this way
after mutations arose
linkedin to hardscrabble existence
forcing inhabitants to eat grass
most likely tainted with pesticides
after incorporeal supernatural beings,
who roamed across the terra firma
****** the pith and marrow
from Mother Earth until dry
then for good measure for measure
laid waste great swathes of land
from sea to shining sea
by expelling nasty
biologically hazardous waste products
(use your imagination)
subsequently bringing about demise
of all creatures great and small
far as the eye could see videre licet
think Sherman's march to the sea
triggering smoldering ruination in their wake
guaranteeing future harvest
for years to come
of nothing but scorching ash
compromising the blood, sweat and tears
and countless hours of backbreaking toil
spent sowing seeds across fruitful plains
after lush crop of vegetables
(just at the cusp of perfect ripeness)
waited to be reaped
or wolfed down by hungry human
all for naught, when homesteaders
helplessly watched in horror
ravenous, pestiferous, nefarious
loathsome jawboning haunting spectres
on par with jezebel spirit
burning down the houses
that calloused hands built
transforming breadbasket of America
into burnt offerings
of hollowed out encrustation
tell tale hulking framed charred skeletons
resembling outsize three dimensional anime
teetering upon foundations,
(where Atlas shrugged
and saw himself reflected
from birdbath pool resultant
as the above supported fountainhead
gushed a stream of water)
sabotaging family owned farms
harkening back generations,
when United States settled
by various and sundry colonists,
heeding manifest destiny
displacing and eradicating indigenous peoples
subsequently former subjects of the crown
or established vested gentry
within thirteen original colonies
by dint of force
expelled so called "noble savage"
courtesy chicanery, flattery,
and incendiary larceny,
which usurpation of bumper crops
courtesy dead souls trounced,
thus immediately creating food insecurity
for millions of people,
not only in the United States
but across the webbed wide world
goading people to be creative and scavenge,
whereby yours truly
limited his intake
of nutrients to a diet of worms...
and gluten and dairy free hors d'oeuvres
topped with icing laced
with various and sundry sized sim cards,
plus microprocessors insync
with silicon wafer chips
just for the sake
of being a curious (Georgian)
human replicated entity
within the laboratory.

A short time thereafter,
body electric of mine
slowly, inexorably metamorphosed
into a cross between
an artificially intelligent moon unit
and a beatific, biodynamic,
and bombastic hybrid entity
able, eager, ready and willing
to stand up against
marauders and riders in the storm
who commingled without pride nor prejudice
guided by sense and sensibility.
KorbydAngyle Mar 1
When what truth which eases essential vanity
  defines the next thought
There is another mephesto, hunting, dreaming
  believing tearing a heart
******, pale, defined by gaunt avail, the true nuisances acclaim
Pith and torrid, bounced about frail victims now fraught  
Whom Etched stayed chiseled caustic
     Sanskrit cleanses avarice now from  
      sentient words of Angels ... to whom do you belong?

Made from deviant pillars which hold the Earth
  and fear ever essence
Kneading it’s morbid vows emblems of Satan
    worthy of every marriage and within every vow

Listen, one must listen to deliverance so demure so
  loutonous so as the evil one’s appear
More than masks abiding by the glamourous defense
Pretend for those that scheme together with the best
Soon shall endurance and the sanctimonious
curtsy snipes make less
   ...of the more

And the more shall bleed moralless
  as the need flails at sallow wisdomless one's
Liche dancing queen haughty breasted women
   and *** for hire clean
Lest our virtue stand betwixt the void and who doth
thou claim to be
Malevolent jists benevolent yearly cherubs
and seasonal witches  
Shall all scree and scribe
And make eschuance zenith for the  Drachnire flames from eternity ...that spilled their spells to Heaven... are defied by the existence of the great ones’... inculcation, step, hold, believe not

What little of death did the game afore- now waylays for what  
   little symposium or affective ascensional
     rights forced to valiance

Once and inside cut by knife once again
Did soist wenches their heroes and the Gods now believe  
  hold the cause to effect trying to moushet; flagrant violence peace affronts validation nuances and complete glory for gang revolution
from a day

Remember there a good time when we thought “Reader's digest.
Was high literature, the teller of the truth?
When I was propagandist luring us with fine words
in lies.
When we got older we learned and these days even the Guardian
follows a political policy skirting the truth.
There are the lie and the truth, but convention stops us from telling
anyone how it was.
I wrote a story of sea life and young men the story was met
pith d deadly silence because I used the language of a time gone
when a ***** was not a ***-worker.
People feel offended when met with untarnished truth,
write about the green sea and not of mass- ****** of old people
in Sweden.
An editor wrote me a long letter of refusal when to simple
words like “******* “would be better and less insulting.
But that is the way it is better to be kind than truthful.
Betty H Feb 2020
One married man's pith severs.
Eyes and desire bestowed on two.
His wife, a previous scullery maid,
his prior lover, a married aristocrat.

His wife suspects trouble, jealousy,
Hearsay soars as he look smitten with "her".
By no means does he touch her bodice.
Yet, she bows and he kisses her hand.
Speaks to her in humble tones.

Thus, the lover gently loosens his capture.
She declares her stature.,
implores him to mend his spirit,
no longer shall it be sliced.
The whole belongs to his spouse.
The lover holds true to her dignified married lifestyle.
Third Eye Candy Feb 2020
toenails in the dark, shuffling in cotton skullies, where the suns park-
on thin dimes… as golden as poached domes in amethyst
where the Royal “ WE” is a scarecrow made of consumption
stitching the wherewithal of an Answer
to an improbable Guess.

we fidget and split the pith of our varmint stars
to within an ounce of Plausible. Gobsmacked in the actual.
chumming thunder with too many rays of delirium.
husking germs at our Diaspora.
cast as an open wounded
conversation.
conversating in a
Vacuum.

like teen angst on a scrimshaw barstool
made of absolute
demise.
for Mutualism among **** sapiens
long thought to be a pipe dream
case in point sited by a couple of recent
purportedly natural events possibly
exacerbated courtesy global warming
namely present conflagrations
include veritable towering inferno -
(sharing merest premise
with Hollywood film by the same name,
the highest-grossing
Classic 1970s disaster movie
about a fire that breaks out
in a state-of-the-art San Francisco
high-rise building
during the opening ceremony
attended by a host of A-list guests:
An overworked fire chief
(charging full force like Minnesota Vikings -
or feel free to substitute your own football team)
and the building's architect must cooperate
in the struggle to save lives and subdue panic
while a corrupt, cost-cutting contractor
tries to evade responsibility for the disaster
helped establish the modern blockbuster)
dwarfed by devastating southern California,
or the impacts from Hurricanes Helene
and Milton both particularly destructive,
causing more than $100 billion
in combined damage across
Florida, Georgia, South Carolina,
North Carolina, Tennessee,
and Virginia over a two-week period
from late-September into early October),
where trials by fire and water respectively
witnessed linkedin collective effort
that spread kudzu like
attempted delivering relief,
no matter Federal disaster workers
paused and then changed some
of their hurricane-recovery efforts
in North Carolina, including abandoning
door-to-door visits, after receiving threats
that they could be targeted
by a militia, officials said,
as the government response
to Helene targeted
by runaway disinformation.

Impossible mission to duplicate
or even barely approximate
wrenching cataclysms wrought by mother nature,
no matter death defying scenes
movies present quite realistic,
especially seen on the big screen
incorporating surround sound,
where more or less clear cut
protagonists and antagonists
confront each other,
whereby the former
(more times that not
in that make believe world)
where actors and actresses
present convincing drama)
and win the day
quite unlike reality,
when havoc ferociously strikes
indiscriminately rich or poor alike.
I always marvel at the surge
of voluntary brother and sisterhood
(personhood generally) that encompasses
(or follows) a figurative groundswell,
(particularly when the phenomenon in question
constitutes a natural event
say aftermath of meteorological storm in question,
namely a tsunami)
pitting dearth of humanitarian intervention,
where terrorist act and violent crimes
grist for the tabloid or social media mill
give the impression that **** sapiens'
pith and marrow chock full of
animalistic, atavistic, cannibalistic,
fascistic, hedonistic,
misogynistic, et cetera predilections,
thus believing challenging
the bedrock belief in inherent goodness
of man/woman kind
as the exception rather than the rule
and proving the potential exists,
whereby idealistic opportunistic government
(of the people by the people
for the people shall not perish from the earth”
spoken at Gettysburg),
but these words apply as well
to the countless soldiers that died
for the cause of democracy
in the following 160 years,
yet not just highlighting slain combatants
also extending by proxy
to vicious acts of homicide,
physical ****** abuse,
plus verbal castigation
as experienced by the writer of these words
(ofttimes in his younger days
deemed, hashtagged, peppered, targeted,
et cetera as ideal scapegoat)
pummeled courtesy nasty, short and brutish louts,
who heaved, lobbed, threatened,
et cetera me with expletive laced brickbats,
where bullies evinced sympathy for the devil.

— The End —