ts735bSTUDENT10pinz! | Poetry Vibe
ts735bSTUDENT10pinz!
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Though forever sober, nevertheless numbskull of mine throbs

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life

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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 homey pad

and nearly escaped by a scad
dad dull when the hide o me buttocks

whacked more'n a tad.

 

Though in a hard core 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 inson

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

Homo 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 opiate 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 trumped 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.

 

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