The Illimitable Ocean of Inexplicability

Tag: Poem

I hardly noticed you were gone

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We’ve all, at one time or another, felt the razor sharp cutting words a friend or an intimate partner can inflict without warning, and, most of the time, without good reason, but only because they can, because they, as most of us do, enjoy bringing indescribable psychic pain to others, destroying us from within by twisting and shredding our very souls until we can not even scream, but instead fall limp, and near lifeless upon the cold floor whimpering for hours unheard by everyone too busy chasing their unreachable dreams of power and glory to even spare the briefest of moments thinking of us.

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doesnt it

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No one made mention of your return that I can remember

though now that I think about it

there was a look on their faces I couldn’t quite figure

like fear maybe,

but not the kind of fear one would have

if cornered by a Bengal Tiger,

no,

it was the kind of fear you might have after eating most of a salad

only to find a band-aid at the bottom of it

and, I have to say

you didn’t make it any better

when you asked

if the sun still rose in the east

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poet

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A Fiery Spheroid Object 92,960,000 Miles From Our Home Planet

 

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Listen, and listen good

I don’t have a Poetization™, let alone a ‘poem’ about a Sun rise, never have, never will. I just wanted to see if you were paying attention. Keep you on your toes, as they say. Many of you, I have absolutely no doubt, fell for my ruse hook, line and sinker. Don’t sweat it, there’s no earthly reason you’d be thinking there was even the remotest of possibilities that someone would attempt to catch you off guard with an offering of a delightful bit of verse about the rising of our very own star we call, the Sun. Why would there be? Yes, I know, as do most with even a cursory knowledge of world history, of the use of Sun rise poems by the French Resistance during World War II, but, then who ever knew that would also know of the Resistance leader Emmanuel d’Astier de La Vigerie’s comment that, “one could be a resister only if one was maladjusted.” about those who joined the Resistance thus explaining their barely excusable (even given the circumstances they found themselves in at the time) use of Sun rise poetry.

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sun

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Okay, alright

maybe just a quick Sun rise Poetization™

but I’m not saying it’s any good

it’s just off the top of my head

are you ready?

here goes

Oh, great burning orb

come round again

on your heavenly path

forget it

this sucks

fighting the Germans in France must have been extraordinarily difficult work

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poet

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Ah, fiddlesticks!

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The way in which I use the word ‘fiddlesticks’ in the above title is in the way generally understood to mean ‘nonsense’. That is, as is indicated by the exclamation point, I am, or have become, exasperated with something to the point of having to release, through the vocalization of my frustrations, any further association I wish to have with this something I have come to find a waste of my time. However, it should be noted that my referring to something as ‘fiddlesticks’ while in such an agitated state should not be taken as definitive proof that the object of my annoyance is actually nonsense.

– Jack Horrorchild

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threewhite

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The following is based on actual events

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“What be those beautiful three white objects”?

asked the King’s young daughter

on leaving the glorious Institute

where all manner of circumstances

no matter how they may vary

are studied

“They are whited sepulchers, Milady”

answered the handsome Knight

“I’m surprised you don’t know that”

continued the King’s trusted champion

“Have ye no knowledge of Matthew 23:27”?

demanded the quite visibly surprised Chevalier

“It’s in the freakin’ Bible”

said the starting to become less than gallant horseman

“Holy crap, this is un-freakin-believable”!

screamed the red faced Royal Guard

“It’s Mathew 23:27, for Christ sake”

“Who doesn’t know it”

Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men’s bones, and of all uncleanness.

“Geez, woman, come on! Really”?

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poetknight

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The Struggle Continues

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I know it being Friday most, if no all, of  you are probably away from your computers enjoying the companionship of those who love and support you giving no thought to my lonesome mission to make 2015 The Year of The Varmint Trap. And so, laughing as you no doubt are, with old pals, and newly met admirers, you will not see, nor care about, this post until much later after I, exhausted from the exertions of my solitary pursuit of some deeper understanding will have collapsed unconscious upon the cluttered floor until again, like clockwork, I shall arise and take my fated place once more. If then, when looking at the image below of my dogged pursuit of a crazy dream, an end they all say I will never achieve, you are struck with an electric charge of emotion for the never ending adventure of mankind that I am but a living, breathing, and shining example of, please, feel free to hit the ‘Like’ button.

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IMG_1682The President and Founder doing what needs to be done

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Do you really have to pardon all their iniquities?

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“Let the name of Jack Horrorchild be stricken from every book and tablet, stricken from all pylons and obelisks, stricken from every monument of the Land of the Sandwich Eaters. Let the name of Jack Horrorchild be unheard and unspoken, erased from the memory of men for all time.”

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tryas2

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So

I was watching ‘The Ten Commandments’

starring Charlton Heston

(not because I had to, but because I wanted to)

when it came to the part

where Sethi (played by Cedric Hardwicke)

says

“Let the name of Moses be stricken from every book and tablet, stricken from all pylons and obelisks, stricken from every monument of Egypt. Let the name of Moses be unheard and unspoken, erased from the memory of men for all time”

and I thought

wouldn’t it be cool if this was about me, Jack Horrorchild

instead of Moses

because there’s some folk

I sure wouldn’t mind

bringing a few plagues down on

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poet.

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I Followed a School Bus Today

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I do not suggest you try this activity as there very well could be unforeseen consequences

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1I was driving around mindlessly when I happened upon a school bus

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2Driving behind the bus it was at about here I decide to follow it

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3At first it was pretty easy as the bus had to stop at some train tracks

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4Then, once past the train tracks, the bus really began to speed up

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5Luckily there was a stop sign which allowed me to pull up close to the bus once again

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6However, the bus, obviously driven by a mad man, sped away from me, at times reaching speeds of anywhere from 25 to 30 miles per hour.

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7Desperate to catch up,while trying to take photos and drive one handed I may have very well exceeded the speed limit.

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8Finally gaining on the bus it quite unexpectedly made a left hand turn

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9Leaving me to go on with my mindless driving around

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A Short Torturous Love Affair Described

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short torturous

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FREAKY

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That’s the only way one could truly describe the actual event laid out, with brutal honesty, below by the all time favorite Poetizer in the whole wide world, Jack Horrorchild. So, if you’re ready for what most would describe, if not at least as ‘Freaky’, then for sure as ‘weird shit’, or, if  completely caught off guard by the horror of it all, simply respond with a loud ‘Whoa, man’!, or even possibly a, at one time rare, but now becoming quite popular with the kids, ‘The Fuck’?, then scooch yourself right on down this page, past a digital image that has shocked more than a few (to their very core), to a finely crafted Poetization of a slice of life a lot of you can barely even begin to recognize as something impossible for anyone at all like you to imagine.

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manny

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Excuse me, sir

Yes, what is it, boy?

Um, uh

speak up son, I ain’t got all day

uh, I was wondering if, uh, I mean

c’mon now, kid, spit it out

Uh, sir, how much is that mannequin head in the window?

It’s not for sale, kid, beat it

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poet.

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This above all

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“He knoweth not when to quit”

from: The Tragedy of Horrorchild, Poetizer of The Institute

by The President and Founder

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large log

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It’s a rather large log
A rather large log
A rather large log I see
Quite a rather large log
It’s a rather large log
A rather large log indeed

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poet

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Current Norms

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Yes, yes, I’m back, haven’t really been gone, just avoiding you. Don’t have time right now for hand shaking or how you been hand slapping, or whatever the hell it is you’re up to this week. Just read my Poetization™ here provided for your benefit.

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visitor

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Because of

‘the way things are nowadays’

I must describe

those to be met with

‘withering B.B. gun fire’

as

‘uninvited’

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BBGUN

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poet

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