Jinxed jesting jejune junior jobber...
just jabbering gibberish (A - J)
Again, another awkward ambitious
arduous attempt at alphabetically
arranging atrociously ambiguously
absolutely asinine avoidable alliteration.
Because...? Basically bonafide belching,
bobbing, bumbling, bohemian beastie boy,
bereft bummer, bleeds blasé blues, begetting
bloviated boilerplate bildungsroman,
boasting bougainvillea background.
Civil, clever clover chomping, cheap
chipper cool cutthroat clueless clodhopper,
chafed centenary, codifies communication
cryptically, challenging capable, certifiably
cheerful college coed.
Divine dapper daredevil, deft, destitute,
doddering, dorky dude, dummkopf Dagwood
descendent, dagnabbit, demands daring
dedicated doodling, dubious, dynamite,
deaf dwarf, diehard doppelganger, Doctor
Demento double, declaring depraved
daffy dis(pense)able dufus Donald Duck
derailed democracy devastatingly defunct.
Eccentric, edified English exile,
effervescent, elementary, echinoderm
eating egghead, Earthling, excretes,
etches, ejaculates, effortless exceptional
emphatic effluvium enraging eminent,
eschatologically entranced, elongated
elasmobranchii, emerald eyed Ebenezer,
effectively experiments, emulates epochal
eczema epidemic, elevating, escalating,
exaggerating enmity, enduring exhausting
Freed fentanyl fueled, fickle figurative
flippant fiddler, fiendishly filmy, fishy,
fluke, flamboyantly frivolous, fictitious,
felonious, fallacious, fabulously fatalistic,
flabbergasted, fettered, flustered, facile,
faceless, feckless, financially forked,
foregone, forlorn futile fulsome, freckled
feverish, foo fighting, faulty, freezing,
fleeting famously failing forecaster, flubs
"FAKE" fundamental fibber fiat, fabricating
fiery fissile fractured fios faculties.
Gamesomeness goads gawky, gingerly,
goofily graceful, grandiloquent gent, gallant,
genteel, geico, guppy gecko, gabbling gaffes,
gagging, gamboling, gestating, gesticulating,
garlic, gnashing, gobbling, gyrating,
gruesomely grinning, grappling, gnomadic
giggly, grubby, gastrointestinally grumpy
gewgaw gazing gesticulating guy,
geographically generically germane,
gungho, grave gremlin, grumbling, guiding,
guaranteeing, guerilla gripped gatling guns
Hello! Herewith halfway harmless hazmat,
haphazard haggard, hectored, hastily,
hurriedly, harriedly hammered, handsomely
hackneyed, heathen, hellbent hillbilly, hirsute,
hidden hippie, huffy humanoid, hexed, heady,
Hellenistic, holistic, hermetic, hedonistic
heterosexual Homo sapiens historical heirloom,
homeless, hopeful, holy, hee haw heretical hobo.
Indefatigable, iconographic, iconic, idealistic,
idyllic, inimitable, idiosyncratic, ineffable,
irreverently issuing idiotic, indifferent, inert,
ineffectual, ingeniously iniquitous, immaterial,
insignificant, indubitable, inexplicable, ignoble
itches, ineffectually illustriously illuminating
immovable infused ichthyosaurus implanted
inside igneous intrusions immensely
Jovial jabbering jinxed January jokester
just jimmying jabberwocky
justifying jangling jarring juvenile jibberish
jubilantly jousting jittering
jazzy jawbreaking jumble
justifying, jostling, Jesus;
junior jowly janissary joyful Jekyll
joined jumbo Jewess jolly Jane;
jammed jello junket jiggled
jeopardized jingled jugs.
Acid reflux ~ very early morning March 3rd, 2024
Ah... nothing more enjoyable
than acidic gastric fluid (bile)
flowing backward into esophagus,
resulting in heartburn, meanwhile
disrupting pleasant dreams,
which phenomena also known as
gastroesophageal reflux (GER)
found me discombobulated
and swiftly tailored into harried style.
Unsure how successful literary endeavor
crafting reasonably rhyming poem;
actually the following
written a couple years ago
with only slight modification
regarding aforementioned topic
yielding moderately satisfactory
(née middling) result.
While deeply asleep
scant minutes before dawn's early light
burning sensation within deep
tracts of throat did creep,
yours truly immediately awoke
with a start, at strong violent
urge to upheap
(upchuck, toss my cookies, regurgitate...)
insync on par to set Guiness Book
of world records to leap
analogous to lemur
at lightspeed into bathroom,
(these lovely bones
ne'er made jaunt to water closet
but collapsed in a heap -
injuring right hand in the process)
nevertheless, I made little
on the contrary no bowed peep,
but immediately stood
bolt upright stock still
after crumbling to the floor
tear ducts activated eyes
as if ready to weep.
Sadness less pervasive than fright
since reverse peristalsis uncommon
within mine body electric regarding plight,
which analogous volcanic eruption
albeit bubbling magmatic flow slight
retroperistalsis or antiperistalsis
found yours truly
on par with fire breathing dragon argh
ga you ably momentarily nonplussed -
while dry cough minus gushing lava
gratefully only smoldered before simmering
upper gastrointestinal lining
courtesy mouthfuls of bottled water
allowed, enabled, and provided satiation
sudden unquenchable thirst relieved
resultant unpleasant aftertaste (no pun
intended), yet distilling humor helps
me weather, manage, cope... with
unexpected physiological fiery phenomena
- shot straight up within digest
heave tract, and did lament this rick
kitty packet of muscle and bone aft
times susceptible to disheartening
woebegone news afflicting this non
Norwegian bachelor farmer, whom
if the missus cooking triggered bout
unleashing bit torrent of unsavory
plate tectonics, perhaps indicative
of continental drift shrunk down to
miniature, (think nanobot size)
where fault in thee stars
must be held in contempt of court.
No reason for inclusion of above verse,
(previous ten lines), I just wanted
to incorporate said phrases, tip peer
me got some legal lear'n, when truth
Philly admits he seems to know less,
the more he learns, which prompts me to
posit emphatically that ignorance
equivalent to bliss, thus presenting
quandary how kin this pronouncedly
reasonably intelligent garden variety
Homo sapiens unfetter himself with
cumulative knowledge without reek
horse (neigh) to invasive surgery such as...
prefrontal lobotomy, or tamping down
smarts some unknown cyber surfer(s)
could easily misconstrue as vainness,
smugness, quintessential pomposity?
Heartbreak. Confusion. Sadness. All of these emotions have taken hold of me to which I cannot dismiss. His leaving me, without notice, blindsided me from all sides. What began as a beautiful morning walking along the beach, side by side, and sloshing water from the receding waves turned into a paralyzing nightmare. I felt something was not quite right but I blamed my irrational insecurities that rise up at the most inconvenient times.
He stopped short, with the sunshine gleaming behind him, and took my hand between both of his and turned me to face him. With no time to really process what was about to happen, he unburdened himself by telling me there was someone else.
Immediately reeling, I tried to render composure but found none of that. His explanation was filled with unnecessary details other than those that were pertinent to me. It took every fiber of my being to allow him to relieve his conscience before I found my voice and protected my dignity with many unanswered questions. I, at least, deserved to understand as best I could and to maintain my value as a person and as his wife.
He left my once-warm and loving home to be with her. He made a point of picking up his belongings when I was conveniently, and thankfully, at work. Work was, unfortunately, preoccupied with thoughts of my then perfect past with him, my downward-spiraling present, and my uncertain future.
Enough was enough. In two weeks, a filing for divorce materialized. He has been seeing her for two years...TWO years! My reflecting upon and looking at photos, gifts, and other mementos that glued us together, found their way into donation bins and trash bags; yet, granted, the photos found themselves set afire in a blaze of freedom, opportunity and new beginnings.
Closure was the grand result, and I found my life was set on fire to blaze a new trail.
I let the soot stain my fingertips ashen grey, pinching the corner of a splintered log as I toss it further into the metal pit.
I imagine how tired the flames must be. Most refer to a fire as raging, as angry as a hellhound biting at the confines we try haplessly to keep it within.
But would a fire not burn so bright, not burn so fiercely that it wishes to rest? Because as the flames turns to ash, the wood burnt something terrible there squats it's assailant, blowing on its ruin and trying to catch carcass to cardboard.
I try to clean up its disarray with my own, and it feels as though helping a comrade to its feet around the shrapnel of stainless steel.
I tend to this fire as though its a tangible peace of me, tend it solely until it shows sign of exhaustion, and smile when it lets out a relieved sigh as I douse it before bed. Watching it twirl and dance above the sky top of the tent, feeling just the bit lighter for it all.
On Body Dysmorphia (and being a girl but not a girl enough)
We are standing in the bathroom
Staring at the mirror at summer camp
They came this summer saying goodbye to floral dress and dare I say rocking short hair
They say so this is what it feels like to look the way I feel
And I wonder if they assume I feel the same
And I would never fault them this awakening coming forth like a butterfly from a cocoon into the person and body they are meant to inhibit or
If that’s the wrong simile dropping the mask and shedding the fake snake skin to become the person inside
But I don’t know that feeling
They are sharp and angular, all skinny knees and thigh gaps and grace and I
Because I skipped lunch when no one was looking
Which is not to say my problems and insecurities are anything like theirs and I am so fortunate to be born in the body of the gender I know I am meant to be
I know I am meant to be small
Lithe enough to be lifted and danced with and longed for
Bones protruding elegantly from the gaps in my bikini
Never needing to eat
A force above human
A woman the way I have been taught a woman should be
And I try not to think how fortunate they are to not be a woman despite what their birth certificate says
To know those expectations are not what they want
And I try not to think how fortunate they are to be skinny and lithe the way the gender they are trying to escape is
The way I’ll never be
Despite limp lettuce leaves alongside an untouched sandwich - they didn’t see me throw out
Because the curse of identifying as a woman is that, still,
Even when I'm desperately trying to adhere to what a woman ought to be,
A woman I’ll never be
Blech - impossible mission to savor mug of ginger tea...
When the entire mug awash
with floating leavings
by golly by gosh,
sipping said herbal brew
to eat spaghetti squash
with one chopstick.
Earlier yesterday February twenty fourth
two thousand twenty four
found yours truly (me)
blithely consuming delicious
La COLOMBE DOUBLE LATTE
cold iced latte, complete
with a frothy layer
of milk and a touch of sugar.
Lower gastrointestinal war civil
because yours truly beleaguered
by lactose intolerance.
Courtesy veritable sweet tooth
craved absolute zero sum game yoking,
wickedly villainous, x'acting tummy
upsetting Pavlovian salivating, romancing,
quid pro quo woe pea pie us, orthodox,
conventional, nun habit forming (Lie),
mouth watering, lip locked, kickstarting,
Je Suis ill lust trios, hymn bracing,
gobstopping, feasting immediate laxative
inducing, decadent chocolate baneful
cake courtesy of adoring bubela, (the
same over stuffed ego freezer oft
mentioned counterpart, who unwittingly
prepared spot of tea), charming,
hugely overpowering tenderly loving
zee missus diabolically exuding
"FAKE" gracious humane insinuating
jabbering, knowingly ill loo man hating,
needful offal pestiferous quasi rip
snorting, tush under fire, violent
whooshing, expelling xyz lower
abdominal contractions, indubitably
kindling, jumpstarting instagramming
howling, fostering execrable, debilitating,
besieging posterior, automatically
clutching derriere, experiencing ferocious
gluteus maximus intractable jabbing, knifing,
lacerating, mutilating nameless oaf (me),
painfully quaking das simian, torturously
undergoing vicious wretched excessive
yawping worse fate than death!
Otherwise ass hide from irritable bowel
twenty four hours ago
from Saturday February twenty fifth
two thousand twenty four
me quite yawningly wonderful, uneventful,
sedate, quiet, ordinary, mundane, languid,
joyously humdrum, fabulously for
two whit tuss lee drab
characterized local buttuck blaster
also hashtagged endearment
as bubble butt.
Now shall I cut thee a slice of outrageously
luscious, keister jump/kick starting heavenly
gourmet deluxe cheese cake?
In the golden embrace of dawn, where the sun's gentle fingers caress the earth, there blooms a spectacle of nature's grace—the daffodils. Their slender stems sway in the morning breeze like delicate dancers, adorned in robes of buttery yellow and ivory white. Each blossom, a miniature sun, radiates warmth and joy, illuminating the landscape with its ethereal glow.
As the day unfurls its tapestry of light, the daffodils awaken from their slumber, stretching towards the heavens with an exquisite elegance. Their petals unfurl like delicate wings, embracing the sky with a fervent longing. And in their midst, the air is filled with a symphony of whispers, as if the flowers themselves are singing praises to the earth and sky.
In fields of emerald green, they gather in clusters, a congregation of beauty and resilience. Their fragrance, a sweet caress upon the senses, draws creatures great and small to partake in their splendor. Bees hum a melody of gratitude as they flit from bloom to bloom, intoxicated by the nectar's sweet embrace.
But it is not only in the light of day that the daffodils enchant the soul. As twilight descends and the world is bathed in shadows, they continue to mesmerize with their silent grace. Like sentinels of the night, they stand tall and proud, their silhouettes etched against the velvety sky, a testament to the enduring power of beauty in the darkest of hours.
And when at last the stars ignite the heavens with their celestial dance, the daffodils bow their heads in quiet reverence, their petals folding gently as they bid farewell to another day. Yet even in the stillness of night, they remain a beacon of hope and renewal, a reminder that even in the depths of darkness, there is always the promise of a new dawn.
So let us pause, dear friend, and take a moment to behold the daffodils in all their glory. For in their fleeting beauty lies a truth as timeless as the earth itself—that even in the midst of chaos and uncertainty, there is always beauty to be found, if only we have the eyes to see and the heart to embrace it.
In the heart of a kingdom shrouded in eternal moonlight, there existed a fierce warrior named Luna. She was not just any warrior; she was a legend whispered among the people, a guardian of the realm who wielded her sword with unparalleled skill and determination.
From a young age, Luna had been trained in the art of combat by her mentor, an old warrior who recognized the fire burning within her. Under his guidance, she honed her skills, mastering every technique and perfecting every move until she became a force to be reckoned with.
But Luna's strength was not just physical; it was also born from her unwavering sense of justice and compassion. She fought not for glory or power, but to protect those who could not protect themselves, to defend the innocent against the darkness that threatened to consume the land.
Many challenges crossed Luna's path, from ferocious beasts to treacherous foes, but she faced them all with courage and determination. With her sword flashing like silver in the moonlight, she carved her way through the shadows, her spirit unyielding even in the face of overwhelming odds.
But it was not just her prowess in battle that earned Luna her reputation; it was also her kindness and humility. Despite her fearsome reputation, she treated everyone she met with respect and compassion, offering help to those in need and guidance to those who sought it.
As the years passed, Luna's legend only grew, her name becoming synonymous with bravery and heroism. She became a symbol of hope for the people, a shining beacon in the darkness, inspiring others to stand up and fight for what they believed in.
And though her journey was long and arduous, Luna never wavered in her quest to protect the kingdom and its people. For as long as there was darkness in the world, she would be there to stand against it, a true warrior of the moonlight.
Nothing hurts more than a woman's love. God asked Moses to put a golden bronze snake upon the rod, as she is contemplating to her suffecient God. He cures her from bitten venom. Such naiad mythology, to be such a nymph - giving life to rivers and lakes. God giveth beauty in return for sinful ashes. Shall she make her crooked past, straight, or disappear again. She nestles down, giving her tired and shame away to him above. Granting serenity, breaking molds of insanity. She is a believer, saved from the snake bite, of a woman scorned and a woman lost in mind.
In the vast expanse of our world, there exists a boundless canvas that stretches endlessly above us, captivating our gaze and stirring the depths of our imagination—the sky. It is a spectacle of wonder that unfolds above, transforming with each passing moment, painting the heavens with hues that range from the softest pastels to the most vibrant shades of blue.
In the gentle light of dawn, the sky awakens, a delicate canvas tinged with the faintest blush of pink and gold. As the sun ascends, its rays pierce through the horizon, scattering hues of orange and crimson across the heavens, casting long shadows that dance upon the earth below. It is a time of new beginnings, of promise and possibility, as the world stirs from its slumber and embraces the dawn of a new day.
Throughout the day, the sky evolves, shifting and changing in response to the whims of nature. Clouds drift lazily across the expanse, taking on myriad shapes and forms—a menagerie of cottony cumulus, wispy cirrus, and brooding nimbostratus. They cast fleeting shadows upon the earth, their movements choreographed by the unseen hand of the wind. And above it all, the boundless blue stretches endlessly, a vast ocean of sky that seems to stretch on forever.
As evening falls, the sky undergoes yet another transformation, casting off the bright hues of day in favor of the softer, more subdued tones of twilight. The sun dips below the horizon, painting the heavens with a palette of purples, pinks, and deepening blues. Stars begin to emerge, pinpricks of light scattered across the velvety canvas of the night sky, their brilliance mirrored in the still waters below.
And then, as night fully descends, the sky becomes a tapestry of shimmering beauty—a celestial symphony of stars, planets, and galaxies that stretch beyond the limits of comprehension. The Milky Way arcs overhead, a river of light that weaves its way through the darkness, beckoning us to gaze upon the wonders of the cosmos. It is a time of quiet contemplation, of awe and wonder, as we ponder our place in the vastness of the universe.
But the sky is more than just a canvas upon which nature paints its masterpieces—it is a mirror of the human soul, reflecting our emotions, our hopes, and our dreams. It is a source of inspiration, a reminder of the beauty and majesty that surrounds us each and every day. So let us lift our eyes to the heavens, and marvel at the wonders of the sky, for in its boundless expanse, we find both solace and joy, a reminder that we are but small beings in a world of infinite possibility.