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Politesse pleases me...
thank you very much
for letting me clutch
your attention courtesy
sharing following thoughts
thru reading my poem analogous
to invisible electronic,
fantastic, kinetic... touch.
Manners work like a charm
equivalent to abracadabra to disarm
truculent nasty shortish brutes
who thrive causing harm.
Being well mannered
worthwhile to employ,
(whether Semite or goy)
if feeling surly
can supplant mood with joy,
the perfect spock
(to kindle camaraderie)
just ask Leonard Nimoy
milk of human kindness
if lactose intolerant
(such as yours truly) substitute soy
popular among gentile folk,
whose genetic pigmentation
low on melanin
hence snooty learned logophile
introduces the word Xanthochroi
for other linguaphiles
out there voyaging in cyberspace,
whose mindfulness clamors for etiquette
which nowadays encompasses
the webbed wide world,
where online netiquette
practiced by ne'er do wells, who bet
their bottom dollar
courtesy sinister motives fuel zest,
where he/she, they/them can wrest
every red cent
from an unsuspecting victim
seducing yours truly
for instance highly stressed
to the max exhausting,
marauding, and yanking nest
egg, now one wordsmith
at large hard-pressed,
which misfortune of mine addressed
in previous poems,
whereby I mentioned
desperate plight, hence
gofundme page titled
implacable ill fate battered wealth
bombed checking and savings accounts
with professional ruse and stealth
robbed me at ATM point,
whereat varmint found
compliant and obedient participant
able, eager, ready and willing
to buy the Brooklyn Bridge
which got "sold" a staggering
4,160 different times
between 1883 and 1928.
Haint no more gullible traveler
reduced to a lilliputian
than he who didst write
this poem and claimant
professing money suddenly tight
got myself in quite
a pickle, which penniless agony
grips me most violently at night
when stowed away
in my rook re: a forlorn knight
whose psyche took a tumble
from immense height
knocking me senseless
and cents less readily
admitting 20/20 hindsight,
a spectacle framed as laughingstock
courtesy ignoble trumpeting derelict
swaggering with bravado
trouncing former
savvy wise guise
i.e. mine acutely aware
regarding the ways
of pervasive wickedness
proliferating across
webbed wide world
sixty plus shades of gray matter
painfully pinched, where "gotcha"
forever chiseled, emblazoned, inked,
lodged, notched, stitched, tattooed...
within the windmills of my mind.
Review Request (Intensity):
Please use care (this is a sensitive subject for me, do not critique harshly)
Review Request (Direction):
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage:
Content level:
Not Explicit Content
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Comments
neopoet
Sat, 2023-07-29 14:01
Neopoet AI 5-29-23 version
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Geezer
Sat, 2023-07-29 12:00
Now...
this I can see being a sensitive or sore point every time
it is touched upon, by some niggling thought of hindsight
Yet, I am still amazed that having already considered
the loss of said funds as being irretrievable, one does not
move on to scarified tissue and put it in the graveyard
under a monolithic piece of crystal quartz for healing
and marking a spot in Ancient History.
Granite, it is not easy, and hard a stone as any
it does not yield easily to the soft metals of a relatively
unsophisticated indigenous artisan, but through diligence
and effort, it can become a landmark in one's growth.
Be well and more aware. ~ Geezer.
.
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