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Vivid with love, eager for greater beauty
Out of the night we come
Into the corridor, brilliant and warm.
A metal door slides open,
And the lift receives us.
Swiftly, with sharp unswerving flight
The car shoots upward,
And the air, swirling and angry,
Howls like a hundred devils.
Past the maze of trim bronze doors,
Steadily we ascend.
I cling to you
Conscious of the chasm under us,
And a terrible whirring deafens my ears.

The flight is ended.

We pass thru a door leading onto the ledge—
Wind, night and space
Oh terrible height
Why have we sought you?
Oh bitter wind with icy invisible wings
Why do you beat us?
Why would you bear us away?
We look thru the miles of air,
The cold blue miles between us and the city,
Over the edge of eternity we look
On all the lights,
A thousand times more numerous than the stars;
Oh lines and loops of light in unwound chains
That mark for miles and miles
The vast black mazy cobweb of the streets;
Near us clusters and splashes of living gold
That change far off to bluish steel
Where the fragile lights on the Jersey shore
Tremble like drops of wind-stirred dew.
The strident noises of the city
Floating up to us
Are hallowed into whispers.
Ferries cross thru the darkness
Weaving a golden thread into the night,
Their whistles weird shadows of sound.

We feel the millions of humanity beneath us,—
The warm millions, moving under the roofs,
Consumed by their own desires;
Preparing food,
Sobbing alone in a garret,
With burning eyes bending over a needle,
Aimlessly reading the evening paper,
Dancing in the naked light of the café,
Laying out the dead,
Bringing a child to birth—
The sorrow, the torpor, the bitterness, the frail joy
Come up to us
Like a cold fog wrapping us round.
Oh in a hundred years
Not one of these blood-warm bodies
But will be worthless as clay.
The anguish, the torpor, the toil
Will have passed to other millions
Consumed by the same desires.
Ages will come and go,
Darkness will blot the lights
And the tower will be laid on the earth.
The sea will remain
Black and unchanging,
The stars will look down
Brilliant and unconcerned.

Beloved,
Tho’ sorrow, futility, defeat
Surround us,
They cannot bear us down.
Here on the abyss of eternity
Love has crowned us
For a moment
Victors.
Pretty
baubles that dangle,
a Babyliss
that untangles  the
knots in your hair

not a bible anywhere
(unless they're sold under the counter)

and the packaging they wrap things in
if they wrap things up at all
******* in another knot with
string from a giant ball.

I've seen a sight or two or three and
Woolworth's won't be seeing me

sad to say
it had its day
and has gone to that
great mall
in the sky

so I'll head ecumenical
being cynical
but practical
and shop at
the
nearest Temple.
Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer were a very notorious couple
     of cats.
As knockabout clown, quick-change comedians, tight-rope
     walkers and acrobats
They had extensive reputation. They made their home in
     Victoria Grove—
That was merely their centre of operation, for they were
     incurably given to rove.
They were very well know in Cornwall Gardens, in Launceston
     Place and in Kensington Square—
They had really a little more reputation than a couple of
     cats can very well bear.

If the area window was found ajar
And the basement looked like a field of war,
If a tile or two came loose on the roof,
Which presently ceased to be waterproof,
If the drawers were pulled out from the bedroom chests,
And you couldn’t find one of your winter vests,
Or after supper one of the girls
Suddenly missed her Woolworth pearls:

Then the family would say: “It’s that horrible cat!
It was Mungojerrie—or Rumpelteazer!”— And most of the time
     they left it at that.

Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer had a very unusual gift of the
     gab.
They were highly efficient cat-burglars as well, and
     remarkably smart at smash-and-grab.
They made their home in Victoria Grove. They had no regular
     occupation.
They were plausible fellows, and liked to engage a friendly
     policeman in conversation.

When the family assembled for Sunday dinner,
With their minds made up that they wouldn’t get thinner
On Argentine joint, potatoes and greens,
And the cook would appear from behind the scenes
And say in a voice that was broken with sorrow:
“I’m afraid you must wait and have dinner tomorrow!
For the joint has gone from the oven-like that!”
Then the family would say: “It’s that horrible cat!
It was Mungojerrie—or Rumpelteazer!”— And most of the time
     they left it at that.

Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer had a wonderful way of working
     together.
And some of the time you would say it was luck, and some of
     the time you would say it was weather.
They would go through the house like a hurricane, and no sober
     person could take his oath
Was it Mungojerrie—or Rumpelteazer? or could you have sworn
     that it mightn’t be both?

And when you heard a dining-room smash
Or up from the pantry there came a loud crash
Or down from the library came a loud ping
From a vase which was commonly said to be Ming—
Then the family would say: “Now which was which cat?
It was Mungojerrie! AND Rumpelteazer!”— And there’s nothing
     at all to be done about that!
JESUS emptied the devils of one man into forty hogs and the hogs took the edge of a high rock and dropped off and down into the sea: a mob.

The sheep on the hills of Australia, blundering fourfooted in the sunset mist to the dark, they go one way, they hunt one sleep, they find one pocket of grass for all.

Karnak? Pyramids? Sphinx paws tall as a coolie? Tombs kept for kings and sacred cows? A mob.

Young roast pigs and naked dancing girls of Belshazzar, the room where a thousand sat guzzling when a hand wrote: Mene, mene, tekel, upharsin? A mob.

The honeycomb of green that won the sun as the Hanging Gardens of Nineveh, flew to its shape at the hands of a mob that followed the fingers of Nebuchadnezzar: a mob of one hand and one plan.

Stones of a circle of hills at Athens, staircases of a mountain in Peru, scattered clans of marble dragons in China: each a mob on the rim of a sunrise: hammers and wagons have them now.

Locks and gates of Panama? The Union Pacific crossing deserts and tunneling mountains? The Woolworth on land and the Titanic at sea? Lighthouses blinking a coast line from Labrador to Key West? Pigiron bars piled on a barge whistling in a fog off Sheboygan? A mob: hammers and wagons have them to-morrow.

The mob? A typhoon tearing loose an island from thousand-year moorings and bastions, shooting a volcanic ash with a fire tongue that licks up cities and peoples. Layers of worms eating rocks and forming loam and valley floors for potatoes, wheat, watermelons.

The mob? A jag of lightning, a geyser, a gravel mass loosening...

The mob ... kills or builds ... the mob is Attila or Ghengis Khan, the mob is Napoleon, Lincoln.

I am born in the mob-I die in the mob-the same goes for you-I don't care who you are.

I cross the sheets of fire in No Man's land for you, my brother-I slip a steel tooth into your throat, you my brother-I die for you and I **** you-It is a twisted and gnarled thing, a crimson wool:
                One more arch of stars,
                In the night of our mist,
                In the night of our tears.
Poemasabi Aug 2012
As a child I walked, no ran, downtown
a dollar grasped in hands that wanted to move small plastic armies
to Woolworth's for a bag of soldiers in Gloversville

Then as the places that made things left
and Main Street began to starve and it's abandoned bones bleached in the Adirondack sun
We drove to shop, like everyone else in Gloversville

Standing once proud and full of life
Then left to decay and die
The resurrection of the Schine brings light to Gloversville

In the midst of the abandoned and empty
a spark grows to a small flame
and a more vibrant life returns to Gloversville
Hal Loyd Denton Jan 2012
A Simple Walkway
By this device just an old ordinary taken for granted side walk there is no place it doesn’t lead
Hops scotch any one key skates on your shoes how they let you zoom oh the prints left there
A bike for Christmas feel daddy’s strong hands hear his feet running to keep up ever feel so freed
Remember when you were there playing mother walked by her perfume caused womanly fantasies

Up town on Saturday shopping day take the sidewalk get a haircut one two Jims the other to Dressings
Montgomery wards that great wide white stair way sports one floor clothes on the other
Get dolls toy guns all kind of assorted toys at Ben Franklin if not there find Woolworth’s full blessings
Whatever, hurry you know the Roseland will be starting the afternoon matinee action packed thrills

Live out the movies Carl Wessel Western Auto arrows fifty cents Coast to Coast BB guns
Can’t afford a bow take a mop stick and cut an inner tube into a strip nail on both ends watch her fly
If you’re not allowed to have even an air rifle use more inner tube a forked stick wa la slingshot what fun
Grocery shopping great on second St Piggly Wiggly or Wempen’s on the alley up from Bryson’s garage

Need shoes Summer’s store or Duez get a pair of Buster Browns this follow the side walk your welcome
If you just need a repair Ray does fine work Pen well’s store has all the dresses guaranteed no guessing
Hustle and bustle going on all over town activity nonstop great foot traffic go to town the past will come
You will stir up endless memories in this new time that could use those sweet happy times at the five
and Dime
Vernon Waring Jul 2015
I am the mother of Andy Warhol.

Right from beginning, Andy was special.
When his brothers go to school, he
stay home with me. I like to draw
picture...and so did he. We even
draw picture of each other. I like
to draw cat a lot and so did he. When
he is little boy, I leave room for one
minute and he not there when I come
back. "Where is my Andek?" I ask.
"Where he go?" and everyone is laughing.

I know early on Andy not like other boys.
He go into town with me and pick out
hat for me. One time he pick out black
felt hat and then he go home and paint
edge of hat so it has gold edge. It look
beautiful. I also like to cut tin flowers
out of fruit tin cans and soup cans too.
And Andy always help me. Just a little
boy but he take after his Mom.
He was artist even then.

Long time go by and Andy become grown
man. I visit him in New York and tell
him he need me. Then I go back to
Pittsburgh but I miss him. I pack up
and come back to New York and move in
with him.

The first apartment we live in not very
nice, filled with cats and mice and
roaches. Cats everywhere. Once I count
twenty cats and still mice all over!

I go to gallery one night for opening
of Andy's first show. When I get there I
have odd feeling. People there they look
at me like I'm different, strange. I feel this
but no one say nothing to me. I think
they say things behind my back maybe.
You know what I mean? "Andy's Old Mom
with babushka is from Old Country." I
just stay in background all the time.
I no talk to nobody but Andy. I tell
him how proud I am and to do right
thing and find his ideas in dreams.
Those are my words. But I no go to no
other show of his work. Ever!

He is still good son to me always but he
worry too much about money. When I
move here he take me to Woolworth's
for Thanksgiving Day dinner. We sit at
counter and have turkey platter with
everything. It is not bad food but Andy
look so sad because he have no money
then. I tell him not to worry. "You will
be somebody someday. You are hard worker,"
I say. "Just wait. Be patient."

Even though I complain sometime, I like
my life here. I watch I Love Lucy show
on television. And people in New York
very friendly and everyone in apartment
building polite and helpful. I go to
big church - very nice - on 15th Street
and 2nd Avenue where I see all my friends
and every day I go to A&P; to buy food.
And I like Andy's friends. They kid with
me and tease me and I laugh. They know
I love my son and am good for him always.

Andy does get angry with me sometime.
He say I nag too much. I tell him he
no dress right. I tell him right out
that I only stay with him till he find
nice girl and get married. That is my
dream. Once he get married, I tell him
I go home to Pittsburgh. He never say
nothing when I bring this up. He is
good boy but moody, very moody sometime,
not a talker like his Mom, ya?
Perig3e Sep 2010
Every Walmart becomes a Woolworth,
Every Everest a **** hill,
Every ocean a vapor trail,
Every love reverts to ground,
And so it goes round and round.
All rights reserved by the author
spysgrandson Apr 2018
I found you, in a stack of photos:
the 2D you, I can't touch, taste or smell

the first thing that came to mind was sharing a joint with you and spilling the chocolate ice cream cone on your skin-******* shorts

and sneaking into the Woolworth bathroom, and our freaked frenzied scrubbing of fabric with nimble fingers and pink powdered hand soap

and how we couldn't stop laughing
until a woman older than time caught us
before we could consummate

which we did after running the entire
200 yards to my van, wet white shorts in your hand, with me looking over my shoulder for imagined narcs and other freedom snatchers

when we finished, we shared my last Winston, blowing smoke rings in the gathering gloom

your shorts were dry, and our high
had worn off--you didn't kiss me goodbye when I dropped you off

between your pad and mine,
I hit a black mongrel pup wandering on the dark asphalt

I scooped him off the road
with my hands; lifeless, light he was...

I found you, in that stack of ancient
photos--that was the day we conceived a son, one you had shredded in a doctor's office for $300 in illegal tender

I see the messy ice cream, your naked nineteen year old flesh,  smoke rings disappearing, the poor mutt dying

though not for lack of trying, I can't see the child you had executed in utero--without trial, judge or jury, save an elusive dream
of freedom

Albuquerque, 1967
Yea of course writing ideas unstoppably
burst asunder at the most inconvenient
opportunities such as driving Miss Daisy,
taking a shower, or using the bathroom.
Accursed ambition becoming a prolific
scrivener (case in point Stephen King)

Woolworth ridding, oddly lumbering
lackadaisically shoehorning out this
being from a self made gully. The jury
yet to decree if attempting to extricate
muss elf from tangled web of decades
old setbacks via literary output successful.

Every morning, noon and night, this chap
blunders, flounder, (like a phish out of water),
yet plod his shipshape reclusive quiet-natured
person along the boulevard of broken dreams.

Oft times, huff hind aye muss elf entering The
Dead Zone (bordering a Pet Sematary). Earlier,
a previous saunter found me surmounting
The Green Mile. Attendant in regard to these
Bag Of Bones, and Desperation to acquire

telephone contact with Cell phone quickens
pace despite Insomnia. No matter unexpected
Sleeping Beauties warrant kisses, my determination,
motivation, and slight trepidation occasionally breeds
(The Dark Half), doomsday facet heftily jackknifing lust.

Occasionally, a feeble goading simply under minds
any corporeal aim to restore endeavor to experience
Joyland. IT (creative juices within spur meeting Rose
Red and her restorative powers. Onward atheistic
soldier goes this chap. No matter tipping point (vis
a vis hungry fatigued body clamors for Needful Things.

Revival (for food and sleep) frequently appears grim.
Downcast state of body, mind and spirit reinforced
by mirage. The Dark Tower looms ahead! Adjacent
to ominous evil looking structure silhouette casted
of a Black House. The initial ambition to ward off
abysmal results summon forth creative literary juices.

Simultaneously a migraine headache pounding pitted LIX.
They hammer horrifically, ferociously, and diabolically.
Shades of shad rock Under The Dome. Ma noggin
aches like The Tommyknockers! Every attempt to locate
a royal crowning coeval counterpart jinxed with laborious
ill luck. Hell in a hand basket plight usually generates
nostalgia for destiny to Carrie be back to Ole Virginny.

Sage advice from Christine, Delores Claiborne, or The
Colorado Kid, yours truly blithely heeded. As a result
(The Outsider within this paperback writer wannabe)
sports defeat written all over face. Concomitant figurative
futility gussies and kickstarts leaving invisible pockmarks.

Ordinary Dreamcatcher fate invariably finds aptly named
Writer Errs Block. Need to back track arises (figuratively)
along vista. The roads have no name. They command
stubborn respect. Near impossible mission manifested
to transcend mental hindrance. This more difficult than
playing Gerald's Game. Hence sigh embrace The Shining

opportunity to avoid Misery. Doctor Sleep would undoubtedly
encourage braving, challenging self confronting The Eyes
Of The Dragon. Such a risky pursuit could force facing pitbull
Cujo. No matter gamble foisted prospect fraught frightfully
being burned at the stake by a Firestarter. Voluntary action

brings small hairs to tingle. Hunchback, sans severely curved
spine straightens. This (The Stand) ding pose offered supreme
vision as promised by The Talisman. Tidbits by me alias
Mr. Mercedes reddit carefully Just in case The Girl Who Loved
Tom Gordon chanced to stumble upon this redoubt versus
her hours spent staring at a blinking cursor. Metaphorical
po' wet ick feet took me where they would.
Aaron LaLux Dec 2017
As the sun,
starts to slowly rise over Sydney Harbor,

I stand alone,
looking out over the balcony & wonder,

why do we feed,
our future seeds,

poison in everyday things,
literally,

the ointment,
is the poison,

we focus on nonsense,
instead of what's important,

everyone on their laptops & phones,
feels like Attack of The Clones,

with skeletons in our closets,
& a backpack full of bones,

in pain from it all,
but when we complain we're fed Tylenol,

administered drugs from sinister thugs,
Woolworth’s is the main culprit,

we’re all going under,
& we probably all deserve it,

we’re all in trouble,
with nowhere to run to,

where will we go,
when we finally come to,

nowhere to hide,
from the Light of the Sun rise,
& this is the truth,
even if it doesn't sound right,

come to,
your senses,

we are all our,
own worse menaces,

tooth aches head hurts,
maybe I should see a dentist,

& I'm sorry for insulting you,
but the worst part is I meant it,

feeling all jolly,
all dressed up in our splendor,

wandering around all jaunty,
wanting to congratulate The Inventor,

for the exponential growth,
that’s occurred,

from obscure to a buzzword,
in less than a lightyear as space blurs,

& I wake up,
still awake from the night before,

to the lights of the Harbor,
upon a building built on a concrete shore,

in a city called Sydney,
built by criminals & slaves,
but I'm singling out Sydney,
because America was built the same,

as the city's lights slowly start,
to give way to the sun light,
of the new day I give praise,
& thanks to God for this fun life,

for this one night,
that felt like a lifetime,

gone now luckily I wrote some lifelines,
which I disguised as lite rhymes,

when really they're the right rhymes,
to free any imprisoned mind,

because the ship is still sinking,
but you’re still at the bar drinking,
& you're starting to get this feeling,
you've been caught & you start reeling,

& no one else is there,

no other drunken patrons,
everyone else is gone,
& you'd go too but you haven't a home,
no one's around not even a waiter,

and that’s when,
you discover these,
proverbs under the cover of these words,
& you find they're your savior,

as time tick-tocks,
you kick rocks like Kid Rock,
getting kick backs,
until you find right there,

that the Tic Tacs,
that you kicked back,
are actually a syntax of medicinals,
candy disguised as Lifesavers,

& just in time,
you find these quotes before you choke,
to get you to the right life boat,
now that’s what I call a Lifesaver,

& once I take note,
that you’re safely to shore,
I turn to go,
up Heaven's Elevator,

but before I go,
I give you one more quote,
& simply say to you once more,
“Goodbye For Now you can Thank Me Later.”.

∆ LaLux ∆

from The Sydney Sessions, available for FREE worldwide here:
www.scribd.com/document/367036005

on kindle and paperback here:
www.amazon.com/dp/1981605932


Available FREE through the link.
You don't see many medallion men
I wonder at times
what happened to them?

I watch movies
eat popcorn
scorn *****
and once
off the Horn of Africa
in a force nine, I
was washed overboard,
thought I was toast,
but the coast guard
on the least guarded shore I know
saved me.

That paved the way for God and me to come to an understanding which was
he understood me and I understood nothing
which again I understood having been an understudy
to a life of no study.

it was good he knew that.

Woolworth's went too,
like a paper shop it just blew away

but the high street's a low point on some graph
that the merchants have made for a laugh
it doesn't make sense
you can't spend pounds and pence
when there's nothing to spend them on.

I'd prefer battalions of medallions
and shops by the score
an army of high streets and
two armies more, but even the
Army and Navy can't save me
and they used to be good for me,

God you see
takes precedence
dislikes things like
impediments
experiments
and all things that
debunk his
glorious
magnificence,
likes to be called
his eminence

I
still can't find many shops on the high street though,
it's a miracle that
I don't understand.
Brent Kincaid Jul 2015
Danny could be counted on
To run some kind of scam.
And usually the victim was
His older brother Sam.
But Jimmy liked pranks
And pulled quite a few.
Jumping out at passersby
Was a favorite thing to do.

One day I took them with
Mom’s express consent
To our favorite notions store,
Woolworth five and ten.
We looked and touched;
Added to our Christmas list.
And as we paid for candy
I was clueless what was amiss.

As we were walking home
Out on the street again
Suddenly, goggle eyed
I saw the show begin.
Out of each kid’s pocket
A trinket, a toy appeared.
This is precisely what
I had originally feared.

The little shoplifters stole!
The blame would befall me.
Their only thought was
They got all this for free.
I told them to take it back
But they just angrily said no.
I had other recourse, it seemed
Then to let our Mama know.

Mama went a bit frantic
Her voice went high and loud.
And of course, my brothers
Were no longer quite so proud.
Jimmy smacked Sammy
And Sammy started crying.
Mama smacked them all.
And Danny started lying.

Then Mama walked them
Every one of the three
Back to the five and dime
And they confessed tearfully.
Mama paid for the things
And told them no TV
And sent them to bed soon
After supper was history.

And all of them blamed me
But, Mama said I did well.
It wasn’t to please Mama.
I didn’t want them to go to hell.
And I was a bit P.O.ed;
They took advantage of me.
So, they could just grumble.
It made no difference to me.

That’s the way things went
With three regular brothers.
There were fights and fits.
They often miffed our mother.
Jimmy smacked Sammy
And Sammy started crying.
Mama smacked them all
And Danny started lying.
Ottar Apr 2016
When our family still dined in one sitting, together,
"dollars to donuts" subject of school came up, as did weather,

and then back to the topic of school and those
homework assignments, but saying "Bob Elliot "grows

like  ****"" got mom and dad talking about clothes
and shopping south of the border woes

in Spokane, though my dad worked at Hudson Bay
and my mom toiled at Woolworth's, earned her pay,

they wanted "bang for buck" and would not allow
"good money go after bad *******" here and now

with the Canadian dollar almost at par,
and gas was cheaper for our old car,

"South of the 49th" just then,

the phone would ring and one of our friends would ask
if we could go out and play until dark, mom would take us to task

and say as we went out the door, with a slam "best be inside
"before the cows came home"" we were already three strides

from the door though (we didn't live on a farm
and only animal was our pet was a dog, Goldie,) what was the harm

as the sun was staying up later
the homework would be done once daylight was long faded,

and we would get to our beds "as snug as bug in a rug"
the importance of breaking bread together with limited interruptions and intentional communications only with those immediately seated around the TABLE is "fighting a losing battle," I am one to TALK
Dennis Rowling Jul 2016
Effortlessly winging
on invisible thermals
high above
prey below
the raptor's natural dominion
steely talons stab
the surprised heart
taking rightful
sustenance

mundane predator
nicotine stained talons
among his prey
innocuous
invisible
rents in the fabric
of earthly interaction
grooming
grabbing
stealing
innocent mouse lives
feline precision
stunning his prey
sustaining breathing game players
with
chipped hearts
clipped tails
tight lipped
quiet mousy boys
in the shadow
of the predator's
earthy thermals
invisible
safety
assured with the stolen mouse voice

in his pant pocket
stinking
gasoline,oil, greasy chicken
twitching mouse nose
knows what his
sedated heart fears
shedding dry invisible
tears

he comes back
again
and
again
summoned by
a window signal until
he returns on
legs of betrayal
seeking
touch and predator love

unconscious
on broken knees
on the smelly
tool shed floor
eyes up
mouth open
viewing his depreciated soul
as merchandise
in the cheap
toy section of
woolworth's five and dime
eyes closed now

...and WALTER was his name-o
many a december twenty forth gone by,
   whence wisp of carolers ghosts hauntingly adorn
remembrance of sum...
   er things passed along tummy
   from ma late ma alm

   compunction eruption viz:
fruition, gumption interruption
   sans redemption how became re: born
whereby this pop -
   bleary eye lids ready to droop

   with his tired bones snapping
   and popping like jimmy crack corn
an immediate need to succumb to sleep
   found me transfixed how blessings did a dorn
mine attention riveted at shrouded foghorn
echoing...choing...hoing

   never knowing hands of time didst flap
matthew scott harris,
   who yawned avast cingular gap
countless decades swallowed un hap
pulley lost soul within early
   twenty something years

   devoid of inner GPS to help map
and guide this stricken n fore lorn future pap
though the hour
   (at time this got written) nsync kin rap
pa head lee well nigh

   closing in on six in the morn
   way before synapses snap
crackle and pop,
   whereby the sage within mine psyche

   waving a finger - tsk tsk - with mild scorn
for forgoing to bed, yet...
   a powerful tsunami like force arose up
   when viewing the account of how tara - blank -
   became rent asunder and torn
from an terrible accident of fate -
   though a miraculous recovery now worn.

now fast forward to recent past
receding extremely fast
as if powered by remnant cosmic blast
resulting in avast

blurred montage flickr ring
   exercise regimen of running plus lifting weights -
   perhaps so many reps of a curl
finds me applauding, huzzahing,
   and praising daughter's efforts...so you go girl

with all inner strength pell mell into fitness:
   disciplining molding, sculpting- yar body hurl
   testing your limits to the max
   whether across busy urban streets or...
   where landscape offers open space with pearl
jam skies - in outlying less populated tracts -
   giving freedom to dance n twirl.

ye r so lucky tubby alive
cuz immediate family, friends, relatives
   and now...this strange papa gives u high five
without asking anything in return -
   since inspiration courses thru me

   inducing thyself to strive
and/ or if when fate decrees,
   thee will make an awesome counterpart
   who this older papa bloke would envy
   as ye possess inxs of strength to re:vive.
----------------------------------
blessing for sound health

upon waking every morning I offer
silent benediction for the ability
to revel with full faculty of this aging body
still going strong where ability sans,

enjoying the simple pleasures
available thru ****** senses
plus cavorting, flirting,
identifying simple pleasures
in my nonsensical mien "inner child"

Woolworth more than money can buy
yet of course if I did happen
to be a lucky lottery winner
could definitely relief anxiety and allow
me to breathe easy yet,
never do justice pitted against robust
body, mind and spirit triage.
Devon Brock Nov 2019
I am the stickman you drew as a kid,
the one you flipbooked on the corners
of every Christmas catalogue that hogged
your time and pencil.

Oh how smooth you drew me - and thin.
And I remember when you gave me a bike,
rolled me right off the page, right there
at the hardwares - those Gifts For Dads.

I see you bought a sketchpad,
and some conte's and charcoal.
I suppose you draw much fuller men now.
No, I never spoke, just eyed you.

And you didn't see me that day at all,
that time I was jiggered on the steps
of Woolworth's, smoking a blunt
at the corner of Fifth and Deluded, watching you.

Why? Well, I didn't want you to see.
Or perhaps I wanted another go,
strobed and animate, not fat and gristle,
walking among the things you'll never buy.
Lawrence Hall Mar 2018
Did Mitya escape to America?
He might have changed his name to Bob or Al
Married Myrtle in the Methodist Church -
Myrtle, nee’ Agrafena Alexandrovna –

And worked the candy counter at Woolworth’s
Riding the trolley downtown every day
While saving up for a new Model T
In obedience to his New World staretz

Horatio Alger hissing behind a tree:
Was Mitya sentenced to America?
Ryan O'Leary Jan 27
I = as in I for an I
Is  = abbreviation for Israel
Real = as in false
Lies = ditto
Liars = ditto + false
Lira = as in Shekel
Sir = as in Geldof
Sale = as in Woolworth’s
Lisa = as in Jewell
Air = as in Rafah raid
Rise = as in up, against them. Allah Akbar.
Define paradigm since time
immemorial does find
me defied, electrified, and generated
fascination within my mind,
despite spacious essence invisible to blind
people, or even those blessed to find
pointed laser insight more pertinent

when a visible beam shined
into infinite void of space,
where coordinates aligned
since humans stood *****
to measure existential blocks assigned
within very brief span that consigned

an average life on terrestrial
firmament more of a grind,
when omnipotent self importance
mandates no child shall be left behind,
yet unwittingly civilization dictates
everyone must be forcibly inclined

to synchronize, mechanize, and harmonize,
their every breath entwined
analogous to a pinned insect specimen
semi restricted to maneuver within
nebulous unseen all encompass
sing fourth dimension since...
my Neanderthal ancestors

huddled around protective hearth
yet,...no idea when,
(whether before
my conception, in utero, or at birth)
my noggin got gripped
with names woolworth
their weight in precious

gems or even salt
(steeped from legacy bygone ancient
civilizations) linkedin lightly
peppered planetary girth
various passages of time,
each mortal allotted on Earth
(measured in seconds, minutes,

hours, days, weeks, months...)
one season does leave,
and another one fall lows win touring
Santa's sleigh for those who believe
conveniently evinced as sands
slipping down humongous sieve

denoting reasons for joy or to grieve
and inquisitiveness attuned
when every stations broadcasts
countdown by Jeeve
parsing segments, not only prompting

objectives I did satisfactorily achieve
(during another orbit of Gaia,
when passage of time
signifying poignant heave
** every New Year's Eve),
but really the entire ticking

tocking clock scaffold
poses as an artificial construct,
as well the jolly green giant
with one or another
expansive FLOTUS on his/her greensleeve.
which I can prov-olone huck curd
(within Trump con feta ration) – as cheesy poem!

Yea of course writing ideas unstoppably
burst asunder at the most inconvenient
opportunities such as driving Miss Daisy,
taking a shower, or using the bathroom.
Accursed ambition becoming a prolific
wordsmith (case in point Stephen King)
Woolworth riding, oddly lumbering
lackadaisical shoehorning out this
being from a self made gully. The jury
yet to decree if attempting to extricate

muss elf from tangled web of decades
old setbacks via literary output successful.
Every morning, noon and night, this chap
blunders, flounders, (like a phish out of water),
yet plod his shipshape reclusive quiet-natured
person along the boulevard of broken dreams.
Oft times, huff hind aye muss elf entering The
Dead Zone (bordering a Pet Sematary). Earlier,
a previous saunter found me surmounting
The Green Mile. Attendant in regard to these

Bag Of Bones, and Desperation to acquire
telephone contact with Cell phone quickens
pace despite Insomnia. No matter unexpected
Sleeping Beauties warrant kisses, my determination,
motivation, and slight trepidation occasionally breeds
(The Dark Half), doomsday facet deftly jackknifing lust.
Occasionally, a feeble goading simply under minds
any corporeal aim to restore endeavor to experience
Joyland. IT (creative juices within) spur meeting Rose
Red and her restorative powers. Onward atheistic

soldier goes this chap. No matter tipping point (vis
a vis hungry fatigued body clamors for Needful Things.
Revival (for food and sleep) frequently appears grim.
Downcast state of body, mind and spirit reinforced
by mirage. The Dark Tower looms ahead! Adjacent
to ominous evil looking structure silhouette casted
of a Black House. The initial ambition to ward off
abysmal results summon forth creative literary juices.
Simultaneously a migraine headache pounding pitted LIX.
They hammer horrifically, ferociously, and diabolically.

Shades of shad rock Under The Dome. Ma noggin
Aches like The Tommyknockers! Every attempt to locate
a royal crowning coeval counterpart jinxed with laborious
ill luck. Hell in a handbasket plight usually generates
nostalgia for destiny to Carrie be back to Old Virginny.
Sage advice from Christine, Delores Claiborne, or The
Colorado Kid, yours truly blithely heeded. As a result
(The Outsider within this paperback writer wannabe)
sports defeat written all over face. Concomitant figurative
futility gussies and kickstarts leaving invisible pockmarks.

Ordinary Dreamcatcher fate invariably finds aptly named
Writer Errs Block. Need to back track arises (figuratively)
along vista. The roads have no name. They command
stubborn respect. Near impossible mission manifested
To transcend mental hindrance. This more difficult than
playing Gerald's Game. Hence sigh embrace The Shining
opportunity to avoid Misery. Doctor Sleep would undoubtedly
encourage braving, challenging self confronting The Eyes
Of The Dragon. Such a risky pursuit could force facing pitbull
Cujo. No matter gamble foisted prospect fraught frightfully

being burned at the stake by a Firestarter. Voluntary action
brings small hairs to tingle. Hunchback, sans severely curved
spine straightens. This (The Stand) ding pose offered supreme
vision as promised by The Talisman. Tidbits by me alias
Mr. Mercedes carefully just in case The Girl Who Loved
Tom Gordon chanced to stumble upon this redoubt versus
her hours spent staring at a blinking cursor. Metaphorical
po' wet tick feet took me where they would into the Shining
and happy place called Willoughby located within the outer
limits of the twilight zone.
'bout fluffiness of hair after washing

Now get ready for...
yup intelligent persiflage
determining if ***** "talk" gauge
correctly calibrated courtesy this sage.

Beats out global warming
by a long stretch
most important commander
must set example you betch
chore life no matter
if miserable wretch

survives impeachable offenses
enough to make me kvetch,
especially four more years
yours truly will once again become
bulimic anorexic wretch.

Versus important crisis
of planet Earth,
where Gaia's bountiful
nature woolworth
analogous wharf resplendent
docks side of ships berth state
housing electricity generating

mined resources inevitable dearth
warming chill folks
courtesy ***** hearth
reminiscent during inchoate
fetal nine months
in utero signaling imminent birth.

Quite understandable reasonable,
non negotiable, inviolable...
blah... blah... blah
scalp itching blather
particularly to prioritize
orange-blond hirsute fullness

upon rinsing sudsy shampoo lather
as expressed by this
post baby boomer
pencil neck geek father,
who attempts to walk poetic feet
across cyber sea
miraculously to slather.

Trademark seedy nonsensical
farcical gobbledygook,
perhaps posthumously printing
bestselling blank paginated chapbook

ghost written by Trump
titled Art of the Steal
detailing head and shoulders how to look
suave and sophisticated all business

swiftly tailored harried style shook
White House disguised himself as rook
key "Fake" incognito president
recruiting apprenticed bartered bride
slow vacuuming trophy wife crook

cow hoard milching, kickstarting,
inciting, generating... donnybrook
coiffing pompadour resembling
forefathers windblown periwig.

Nope not even one hair
mussed out of place,
as if teetering fountainhead
supporting Atlas shrugged

top heavy topples
and crashes scattering
bajillion easy pieces everyplace
analogous to humpty dumpty
each and every last vestige

vanishing without a trace
exiting out cloaca
subsequently intently watching
toilet bowl royally flush
clockwise if within northern hemisphere

heavy enough to sink submarine
haint no reason yours truly might gush
even if abominable ballast
saves queasy passengers
plummeting thru aerospace.
Neurological Tinder Box Doth Hotly Kindle
(okay, yukon axe me whatsapp pinning,
     though beep pre spired, cuz mess sigh key
     threads experience didst rubber awe
     as if spun as a micro spindle.)

Woolworth (Penneys on
     the Dollar Store) their electronic,
     dynamic and atomic weight
cumulated decades of suppressed
     crackle, snap,
     and pop, triggering

     psychotic sans tete a tete
legal tender visa vis
     bit coin block
     chain payback daily
     quotidian fits and starts
     trigger torrential spate

impinging ability to relish potential
     existential joie de vivre
     finding me (I rate)
analogous to suffocating
     unbearable pressure, yours truly
     doth eek quate

     to Metallica Mega-death
accessing, hammering, and pinpointing
     (excel lent lee powerfully)
     every square inch
     of mine pate
strewing, sparking fiery

     fingerhut sized explosions,
     and slamming incessant
     psychological torture akin to
     a pernicious hidebound mate
and as of this date
November 20th two thousand eight

scored entrenched occupation
     of my fifty plus
     shades of gray matter
     becoming more agonizing of late,
where suicidal ideation,
     where repressed self hate

sprung from cumulative
     (albeit cloudy with
     a chance of at least one
     meatball i.e. me) psyche subject
     to verbal whipping (yours truly),

     the gloating mean
     bullies didst denigrate,
without doubt half life of
     Matthew Scott Harris

     aint at all great,
yet to some degree, this saturated
     scorpion poisoned, mauled
     and jackknifed fate
in some measure
     duet hoo war ton internalized

     emotions griffins
     hound, feast, and delight
     (more so ravenously
     throve) on Hawaii,
     and seamy to Maui
     didst successfully, (particularly

     throughout earlier decades)
     emasculate, under estimate,
now (in retrospect) execrate
at invisible monster
     on par with beastie boy

     Doctor Frankenstein didst create
only upon death doom
     he part wretchedness
     will hoop fully abate.
Lawrence Hall Feb 2023
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                        ­      Ozymandias ‘N’ Things

I met a UPS driver from an antique land
Who said – “Down the road two shopping malls
Decay along the road, on either hand
Broken doors lead into empty, echoing halls

The blown-out signs are ghostly anymore
Their electric lights are dead; the letters decay
Around the logo of each long-dead store
And in their emptiness they seem to say:

Look upon my works, ye mighty –

Sears, Radio Shack, Montgomery Ward, Mr. Pickwick, Circuit City, Bonwit Teller, Gimbel’s, Brooks Brothers, Woolworth’s, Marshall Field’s, Kresge’s, Blockbuster, Border’s, CompUSA, Sharper Image, Tower Records, Toys R Us, B. Dalton, Levitz, Waldenbooks, Thom McAn, Linens N Things, KB toys, Mervyn’s, Lord & Taylor, Joske’s

- and despair”
a cure gets distilled and/ or found
for pandemic, thus... I expound.

(Yupper - courtesy coronavirus CORVID-19),
how ja guess my good smear it in friend?! -
within Perkiomen Valley, Pennsylvania
toyed with thought to withhold or send
hmm... perhaps superstitious end
synonym with ominous trend,
methinks hoop fully auspicious,

and synonym with propitious will not abend
mine luckless mien kampf,
cuz the latter two similar lend
heft well woolworth
their weight in gold - words,
would moost notably, likely,
and heavily portend

toward disastrous, disadvantageous, disharmonious...
to Matthew Scott Harris,
whose time on Earth would
uninhibitedly, uneventfully, and unabashedly end
(ous ending intimating "possessing, full of...")
in this case foreboding...,
yours truly rendered permanently

incapacitated to offend
sense and sensibilities
honorable sacred tenets to poetics
tantamount to committing sacrilegious sin
if hypothetically practiced orthodox church goer,
and believer in reincarnation legend.

No matter getting cremated
(ha - of course after I die -)
good one, though... ha) crafting epitaph,
impossible mission to claim alibi,
while on leave from life,

and into cerulean heavenly sky
of course this guy would never lie
even in jest..., though all joking aside,
now tis golden opportunity well nigh
to compose obituary (mine of course),

one garden variety
(veggie burger eater) generic guy
who... doth not fear death, nor shy
about bidding permanent goodbye
to sordid vices that
DO NOT (no way) apply

to yours truly, he **** sitters himself...
well rather ** hum, (especially as singer -
for Curmudgeon Dummkopf Ensemble
(also known as the all star Schlemiel band),
no idea, I cannot explain why.
Hence... what better opportunity, I aver with zeal
presented to one local everyman token schlemiel
keystone state (Pennsylvania) three score lifelong
trumpeting resident in United States commonweal
experiencing severe withdrawal symptoms I feel

plenti linkedin with voracious insatiable appetite
to buzzfeed chronically hungry fancy feast appeal
courtesy poetic generic electronic communiqué 4
hard/soft bound nuggets, essentially noggin fodder
printed paginated good n plenti thought provoking

firing imagination (mine) moost any genre squeal
with excitement well written satisfaction guarantee
to assuage, mental massage bitcoin blockchain me
lack legal tender, but amenable safe passage steal
under cover of darkness, stay 4 delicious hot meal

pop slop special of every day curative against past,
present and future pandemics inducing batty *******
behavior, yet please truck over (and/or rig delivery)
regarding lifetime woolworth (dime a dozen pennies
on dollar) riveting, spellbinding, tantalizing timeless

tomes some dubbed cult classic literature, everlasting
an ideal getaway quarantined within dystopian surreal
"new normal" alienation courtesy social distancing ye
become linkedin among disembodied soul train flitting
hither and yon, to & fro across cyber spatial dimension

storied pages offer healthy escape to getaway funereal
smothering unnatural cloistered atmosphere confined
temporarily alleviate forced imposition to toe line heel
spontaneity crushed every impulse to commingle spiel
broadcast how contagious coronavirus contracted air

tight sequestration impossible mission, where isolation
induces cabin fever delirious skeptics hatch conspiracy
theorists to convince population mounting thumbwheel
(albeit invisible) prima facie Covid-19 originated in bats,
scientists concur possibly spread to pangolins* & human

nonetheless devout believers pray to divine power kneal
expiating, purging, repenting sins past, present and future
beseechingly, devotedly, fondly craning neck to empyreal
infinite cosmos all powerful rhetorically asking -
What's the big effing deal?! Rejecting panglossian retort.

https://www.google.com/search?client=safari&channel=
macbm&source=hp&ei=iRSSXtmzHquxytMP85-c-Ag&q=
define+pangolins&oq=define+pangolins&gs
lcp=
CgZwc3ktYWIQARgAMgIIADIFCAAQzQIyBQgAEM
0CMgUIABDNAjIFCAAQ­zQI6DggAEOoCELQCEJoB

EOUCOgUIABCDAToHCAAQRhD5AToECAAQCkoiC
BcSHj­E3OWc1Mmc1Mmc0OGc1Mmc1Mmc0Mmc1M
WcxMS01N0oYCBgSFDFnMWcxZzFnMWcxZz­FnMmcx
MS0xUL0kWMpLYPdVaABwAHgAgAGnAYgBrwSSAQ
M5LjGYAQCgAQGgAQKqA­Qdnd3Mtd2l6sAEG&sclient=psy-ab

*Pangolins, or scaly anteaters, mammals of Pholidota order.
The one extant family, Manidae, includes three genera: Manis,
Phataginus and Smutsia. Manis comprises four species found
in Asia, while Phataginus and Smutsia each include two
species living in Sub-Saharan Africa.Wikipedia.
("shared madness," or "madness for two").

I suffer in silence, though not alone
kvetching old curmudgeon (me)
(once upon a time, a promising
long haired pencil necked geek)
buzzfeeding off life's miniseries
of unedited miseries in tandem

with ideal counterpart ofttimes
easily mistaken for a clone
Matthew Scott Harris
unable to function without her
(zee wife), he doth espouse as integral
to calculus of his existence

plus attributes wizardly
powers within (yours truly)
derived, highfived, and thrived courtesy
(think symbiotic), quietly riotously quintessentially,
nevertheless beloved hen pecking crone,
we carrion and cavort

(our respective wings
beating at speed of sound)
generating humming drone
beehive ving amorously
exhibiting unchoreographed tableaux
long practiced routine

equilibrium intermittently punctuated
with dynamic pantomime tour de force
communion words superfluous
since telepathic communication
predominates the unspoken wavelength
long established modus operandi

since... before pledging our troth,
while each ourselves in utero
womb during fait accompli
vis a vis gamely matched
think arranged embryonic marriage,
thus marital covenant

essentially linkedin since conception
both of us coaxed when livingsocial
no longer being tethered to umbilical cord
as lifelong playmates
forging compatible association,
now a gratuitous nod to our long since

dearly departed mothers
unbeknownst to them
how like firmly attached barnacles
each handily, snugly, and warmly fit
(esse mitten hand over fist gal love)
vicariously experienced reciprocal

trials and tribulations
whatever fate visited head of the other
permanently anchoring
nsync out rolling - rock of Gibraltar
across metaphorical stormy seas
trying against all odds

to weather strongest
emotional/psychological tempests
wallowing, née drowning in despair
at aging body, fading senses,
and thinning hair
which last named
akin to Samson

bolsters mein kampf
since... infancy, whose
counterpart betraying me like Delilah
wishing and threatening
(albeit jestingly) to lop off golden locks
each hair reed stranded longfellow
woolworth more'n fine spun gold!
Unpolished Ink Jun 2024
I was born with a Woolworth’s spoon in my mouth
not for me a silver stem and bowl
because my mother was a practical kind of soul
she fed us and she clothed us,
and she never forgot to love us,
then she taught us we were just as good
as the cutlery above us
Bloated swollen cheeks
analogous to first Chinese Brother,
who swallowed the sea,
now non sequitur
off beaten track i.e.
less apropos re: guarding
par for race course as if

ace driver won Grand Prix
latter referencing international
horse race for three-year-olds,
founded in eighteen sixty three
931 + 932 = above number
satisfying ghost of Fibonacci.

Original idea predicated whereby
all Americans heartily feast
(stuff themselves to the gills)
salivating cornucopia dime
a dozen lonely people
bemoaning holiday re:
traditional Thanksgiving time,
celebrating joie de vivre chime

wine glasses clink full house,
where ushers pantomime
proffer gobbledygook and
motion rapidly hungry guests
toward smorgasboard prime
tables for gluttonous
to commit punishing crime.

Tentative arrangement made,
whereby oldest sister, and husband,
(who live a jaunt away from Maple Shade
more precisely Woodbury New Jersey)
would swing by Schwenksville

comprising one car motorcade,
thence to shuttle 31.5 miles southeast
our mutual (of Omaha) friend,
I met when counted orbitz
during late 30/early thirtieth decade.

Offer to drive out of their way
presented, since our 2009
Hyundai Sonata did betray
accountability, dependability...
reliability oy vey
woolworth no more than

couple/few Benjamins
yet real challenge constitutes
yours truly, née
theme underlying mein
kampf pennilessness pray
I did (despite being orthodox

atheist) to no avail
relying upon social security
regarding disability (mine) Mayday
forthrightly, feebly, faintly...
calling before men
donned with white coats

came to take me away
to the happy home with trees
and flowers and chirping birds
and basket weavers who sit,
smile, twiddle their thumbs and toes.

Communication break down
compromised eating humble pie
regarding this ole man
upended above mentioned plan

whereby attending
hosted by: Gail la Dorfman
afforded ruber express
thus with Forrest Gump I ran
all across Ocean way thru to Japan.
Viral microbes didst relish
meaty morsel feast
hyperbole (included greased
for dramatic effect) ceased
not, but linkedin

constituent facets increased
with right wing conspiracy
of mine physical health least
up to par today found me writhing,
asper like a wounded beast.

I feel as if giant size
(yes...with closed eyes try to see)
nasty bugaboos did invade me,
and shrunk down yours truly prithee,

(this from gorging on one not so heavy
corporeal doddering entity) si,
whose light humors opposite of glee,
thus envision this bard, granting himself
woolworth truevalue as a flea

to continue poetic tale
(agonizing sham “FAKE” rocked Leprechaun)
on microscopic scale
essentially, a myopic seek reacher
relative of Spongebob, the latter hale

ling from Bikini Bottom,
whose absence aye still bewail,
especially his misfortune sail
ling from toilet bowl
into water treatment plant
leaving sopping wet trail

of eyes rubbed red,
which sadness happens to this male,
when he experiences
invisible nine inch nail
piercing vital organs
with no energy to wail.

Mind boggling to this scribe
how itty bitty organisms can imbibe
every last drop of vitality, describe
epidemic, which if blithely ignored

more virulent parasites could
affect the entire human tribe
fallout nearly as complete
approximately bajillion years ago,
an unimaginable feat

asteroids crashed Earth
generating temperatures
greater than Miami heat
surface with scarring and beat
meteoric plowed shares into swords
whereby predominant species

huge lumbering beasts uttered holy sheet
or a similar facsimile thereof
similar to poet reduced to (of course)
NON GMO gluten free shredded wheat
resembling chopped liver
after trampled by Little Feet!
Lawrence Hall Feb 2022
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                 Put Down the Rosary and Step Away from It

           Police interrupted a Catholic mass in Australia on Thursday
          after they received a tip that some parishioners may be
          violating a COVID-19 mask mandate

          -Police stop church service to make sure parishioners are
           wearing masks (msn.com)

Police have bravely raided a church in Perth
Some old folks at prayer on a Thursday night
Acting on a serpent’s tip (for what that’s worth)
Thus giving the wicked a righteous fright

Advance, Australia, thou land of the free!
Where prayerful insolence will be suppressed
And by the way, how much was the Judas-fee?
(Thirty Woolworth’s gift cards?)
We would want a snake to have only the best

One doubts this was only about some masks
What other reasons might there be? one asks
Wear your mask anyway.
crafted when Wallace and Gromit
returned from their trip to the moon,
which I can prov-olone huck curd
(within Trump con feta ration) –
as cheesy poem crafted whey back
when the following Gouda eye idea
occurred while milking the cows.

Yea of course writing ideas unstoppably
burst asunder at the most inconvenient
opportunities such as driving Miss Daisy,
taking a shower, or using the bathroom.
Accursed ambition becoming a prolific
wordsmith (case in point Stephen King)
Woolworth riding, oddly lumbering
lackadaisical shoehorning out this
being from a self made gully. The jury
yet to decree if attempting to extricate

muss elf from tangled web of decades
old setbacks via literary output successful.
Every morning, noon and night, this chap
blunders, flounders, (like a phish out of water),
yet plod his shipshape reclusive quiet-natured
person along the boulevard of broken dreams.
Oft times, huff hind aye muss elf entering The
Dead Zone (bordering a Pet Sematary). Earlier,
a previous saunter found me surmounting
The Green Mile. Attendant in regard to these

Bag Of Bones, and Desperation to acquire
telephone contact with Cell phone quickens
pace despite Insomnia. No matter unexpected
Sleeping Beauties warrant kisses, my determination,
motivation, and slight trepidation occasionally breeds
(The Dark Half), doomsday facet deftly jackknifing lust.
Occasionally, a feeble goading simply under minds
any corporeal aim to restore endeavor to experience
Joyland. IT (creative juices within) spur meeting Rose
Red and her restorative powers. Onward atheistic

soldier goes this chap. No matter tipping point (vis
a vis hungry fatigued body clamors for Needful Things.
Revival (for food and sleep) frequently appears grim.
Downcast state of body, mind and spirit reinforced
by mirage. The Dark Tower looms ahead! Adjacent
to ominous evil looking structure silhouette casted
of a Black House. The initial ambition to ward off
abysmal results summon forth creative literary juices.
Simultaneously a migraine headache pounding pitted
courtesy spluttering, nauseating, and foaming LIX spittle.
They hammer horrifically, ferociously, and diabolically.

Shades of shad rock Under The Dome. Ma noggin
Aches like The Tommyknockers! Every attempt to locate
a royal crowning coeval counterpart jinxed with laborious
ill luck. Hell in a handbasket plight usually generates
nostalgia for destiny to Carrie be back to Old Virginny.
Sage advice from Christine, Delores Claiborne, or The
Colorado Kid, yours truly blithely heeded. As a result
(The Outsider within this paperback writer wannabe)
sports defeat written all over face. Concomitant figurative
futility gussies and kickstarts leaving invisible pockmarks.

Ordinary Dreamcatcher fate invariably finds aptly named
Writer Errs Block. Need to back track arises (figuratively)
along vista. The roads have no name. They command
stubborn respect. Near impossible mission manifested
To transcend mental hindrance. This more difficult than
playing Gerald's Game. Hence sigh embrace The Shining
opportunity to avoid Misery. Doctor Sleep would undoubtedly
encourage braving, challenging self confronting The Eyes
Of The Dragon. Such a risky pursuit could force facing pitbull
Cujo. No matter gamble foisted prospect fraught frightfully

being burned at the stake by a Firestarter. Voluntary action
brings small hairs to tingle. Hunchback, sans severely curved
spine straightens. This (The Stand) ding pose offered supreme
vision as promised by The Talisman. Tidbits by me alias
Mr. Mercedes carefully just in case The Girl Who Loved
Tom Gordon chanced to stumble upon this redoubt versus
her hours spent staring at a blinking cursor. Metaphorical
po' wet tick feet took me where they would into the Shining
and happy place called Willoughby located within the outer
limits of the twilight zone.
A hardy acknowledgement yessiree
to the blessed sister Amelie worthy
of such beloved, devoted,
feted husband Rich truly
bestowed predicated upon
random chain of events

i.e., accidental, biological,
and genealogical happenstance prithee
applauding, apprising, and appraising key
kith and kin flavoring, enlightening,
and charming every
life ye and said spouse...

chance circumstance doth avail
your lucky charms to recipients receive detail
impossible mission to annotate here,
nonetheless with gusto courtesy
gratitude yours truly does exhale
regarding unconditional loving

creatures great and small
unbridled zeal without fail
truevalue analogous, yet exceeding
fine spun gold woolworth paltry holy grail,
nor can infinite wordsworth express hale
low, and brotherly love,
(equals at the least $20.00)

an introspective male
i.e. me, whose recent keen awareness
of vital specialness doth prevail
when a little boy quivering
scared as baby quail
his older sister genuinely

ranked high on importance scale
emotionally caring despite many travail
experienced by prodigal son
of Boyce and Harriet,
who frequently if not always did veil
steaming, roiling, quaking...
blubbering like a whale

Ahab oft times admit floundering chick
hen daring to venture metaphorical
unfamiliar muddy waters
unlike legendary Moby ****
thrashing restless legs vainly kick
starting how to live think
lost at figurative sea

with nary an iota
abandoning ship lick
kitty split never trying
to overcome self doubt
when chased, teased and easily
trounced by bullies quick
as greased lightning
to cower on all fours

calling out for Ranger Rick
(or other unsung hero),
whose highlighted schtick
nowhere in sight, thus I got treated
analogous as some cheap trick
praying for salvation,
ye thence fended off beastie boys

(poetic liberty I take)
as veritable hooligans
threatened with wick
cud lee to thrash hide of
Matthew Scott imposing arbitrary
eminent domain despite
supposedly safe sanctified bailiwick.
Wool ye wrap dem **** pull
stilts skin figurative limbs
around zee following
which reasonable rhyme Yukon mull
courtesy yours truly,
who sports a hollow cranium hull
nevertheless hello gull
or guy tis me one generic dull
drum weather beaten poet cull...
ling quintessential absolute zero talent, cuz
aye loosed ma last mar bull.

Then I give u mission im posse sub bull detail
which with your expertise sure bet fails
ha fa akin to sear ching for da holy grail.

Well, I (with Will Wolverson,
grown lad or lassie
and Forest Gump by my side) can attest
life haint no box of chocolates
snapping jaws of zee bill collectors
tug get and nip breast
this bloke doth wreck in newt tour
tubby nada hue man species best
buys to hire, a modest fellow
gnarly mixed breed i.e.
with strunk n white elements
of non-harried dog gone style,
who doth not thump
in One Direction upon his chest

like an alpinist, who scaled Mount Everest
enjoying breath-taking view as visual fest
with mild manner demeanor like some guest
light hearted genteel friendly dude,
who doth like to jest
lest
gets scant interpersonal
opportunities predictably messed
up in order to dust track
marital obligation ta support
n dependent dense heckling
ban she wife in this nest
with hen pecking spouse

i.e. argh quite thee pest
though now back on track
sans  income quest
in order to put MSN
(missing) mailer daemons
in the mind of this live earth-linked
cool hotmail yahoo at rest
according to Sir Isaac Newton
when object least stressed
so all I ask, would be -
give this older average chap,
an electric kool aid
basic acid gemeinschaft test

even if that requires me to get undressed
for helping hands of average size worthy
(of his little braid e bunch)
dons thrift store vest,
where Philadelphia skyline scene
about 30 miles due north west
does pursue friendship with aplomb yessed
doth agree, per bing a bit plumb awry
boot- orange u glad, I haint noah
poise zen hiss fruitcake
**** this cherry fellow,
a peal ling banana split, who goes gaga
over a ladybird
with Partridge Family like zest.

Matthew Scott Harris
da melon collared doggone collie
by George could Shaw Lee
warrant snuggling with a real dolly
please pardon me this adolescent bit o' folly
leave a message by jeeper z n golly
so if zee mood prevail respond
buff **** the next Holly
day - cuz each moment of life

woolworth bing jolly
to allow, enable and provide
n opportunity tubby molly
cod dulled - without resort
to bing forcibly Polly
Anna Hush - yet also reckon eyes zing,
when ye need me to cease
bing poetic - end sollie
tarry within me mancave.

Yes
tsar
day

helm eye rubles seemed sofa har away
and now thar hear - no longer at bay
washing o'er the being of fleshy clay
wondering oof this hard scrapple
time traveler - will witness 2 day
dreams *** true -
that weave a netted skein within every
nook and cranny
who dons many a guise to help him flay
mailer daemons burrowing
in found cerebral pock hits empty n gray

lint coated fingers flick like
Lord of the Flies,
he wants to share hooray
with thee home economic female turn key
helping this generic guy out of
slightly botched starry enterprise - me
audacity likened to gonzo
narcissistic raging bull bucks
suffering dementia pre
coxcombs, which triumphantly -
harkens freedom
b4 this mortal DIES ne'er re
yule lies zing the nirvana and
x static x tub burial @ sea.
Stu Harley Sep 2018
Red Chili
Peppers
Soaking in
Spiritual
Fermentation
Still
Resonating
In an old
Woolworth
Pickle jar

— The End —