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Orbitz around el sol increases in velocity...
to the x power with each passing year
yours truly bobbing in the time stream
impossible mission to escape any weir
the current speeds up at breakneck tear
I beseech thee almighty with my prayer
where blink of eye feels akin to kiloyear
no doubt artificial intelligence will find
a machine to stop and reverse engineer
the linear misnomer cause measuring
passage of seconds, minutes, hours, etc
a manmade construct but simultaneous
phenomena in the realm of black magic.
I, an uncritical, optimistical, judgmatical, farcical,
comical, and apolitical earthling) defy convention.
Roman C Sir Synopsis
of one garden variety,
generic, humble, intelligent,
jesting, kind, liberal minded
nonsmoking, opportunistic,
poetic, quirky, rational, smart,
thoughtful, unpretentious, vocal,
witty zoological specimen
classified as Homo sapiens
sneaks another message
while the missus listens
to Carl Cox courtesy SiriusXM
on Alexa Echo.
Gravid with child, that would be me
mother dearest high-tailed
to pre-arranged bedded outpost.
Upon admission to the maternity ward
at Christ Hospital located in Cincinnati, Ohio,
the quickened labor pains designating
my debut occurred just in the nick of time.
Obstetricians donned medical accoutrements
and, staked out various strategic read outs
within birthing center. Just as the team members
situated themselves (analogous to baseball players
placed at critical coordinates on the turf),
these medical practitioners arrayed themselves
to cover ground zero. Contingency measures
overlooked for my faux flying Wallenda
stellar exit out the birth canal into postal bin
for new mothers marked with words,
“you got male” setting a first for record books.
Unbeknownst to very
short lived carefree being
neurological, mental, libidinal... flaws
would spell disaster
spanning scores of years
majority of existence (mine)
participation buzz feeding, livingsocial
shuttered within inaccessible dungeon
surrounded by deepest known moat,
within which flourished fearsome beasts
turned rogue, and conspired
assassination (not yet successful),
whereby one poker face
(born that way)
wretched soul condemned
to psychological abomination
forbidden to terminate
said despicable mortality,
thus suffers life sentence of
yawping, writhing, unnerving... tumult.
While self-sequestered,
I am not alone realizing
how quickly tempus fugit
since coming into
the webbed, wide whirled web
(measured courtesy as chronological
number of birthdays elapses
at an ever quicker pace)
silently delineating each
subsequent birth of mine,
(spoiler alert and major
handy dandy blues clues
to absolve you dear reader
to rattle any precious brain cells,
and compute umpteenth
anniversary of yours truly
atop this oblate spheroid
given the fact that the late Harriet Harris
bore witness to her third offspring -
where a baby sister
didst gestate and complete
to round out the Harris family
1,008 days after January thirteenth
nineteen fifty and nine)
after the writer of these words,
and rider in the postnatal storms
got ponied up and began existence
with his braying horse and life
saddled with congenital mutations,
(thru the vantage point of 20/20 hindsight,
and a strong hunch backed of mine
while within me mama's uterus,
when she went - i.e. feigned
going abroad to Notre Dame),
yours truly, an innocent babe
in the figurative woods
got genetically hashtagged in retrospect
with mental health issues galore,
whereby he weathered a plethora
flush with lifelong emotional duress,
which manifestations of mailer daemons
(regarding entities like tempests got uncorked
from figurative teapot)
made their dramatic debut
around the twelfth night
of his dirty deeds
done dirt cheap drama deployed
when said diploid came full term
and exited the birth canal -
as if being shot out of a cannon
and reached adolescence,
when accursed biblical prophecy
"millstone around your neck"
manifested after the milestone
marking baker's dozen
elliptical circuits completed
inexplicably shocked his body electric
whereat existential nihilism burst forth
as if from an emotional cancer
announcing anorexia nervosa
as debacle numero uno,
and attributes being a survivor
of emotionally troublesome journey
after metamorphosis into boy interrupted,
when adolescence jump/kick started
and got him linkedin
to extortion demanded courtesy grim reaper
and pitted against love's labour's lost
where personification of death
with scythe leant indelible mark
upon fragile psyche
ready to crumble analogous
into a sorrowful Uriah Heep
besotted lovely bones of mine,
wherein within figurative
blink of myopic eyes,
wrought tragicomic spectacle
when lo – mein shine ease
rocketed by George
into the outer limits
where the survival of fittest
granted being a centenarian,
(within thirty seven
more planetary orbitz -
another handy dandy blues clue)
will present his shamefaced self
to the webbed wide world
hobbling along and raising meshuga cane.
So much more energy gets utilized, (no choice, but forced to except senescence) just to complete and carry out ordinary tasks, that frequent naps make necessary to attend basic functions mostly management of household domestic chores (that living in a one bedroom apartment – hoarders buried would envy) carry out secular endeavors such as...scaling mountains of soiled laundry, evading a swarm of fruit flies, dodging a landmine of tripping hazards and protecting me from weapons of mass destruction – food that turned into rocks hurled courtesy the wife.
About This Poem
Last Few Words: once again i acknowledge gratitude for the opportunity to post a poem on a daily basis, which abuse of privilege (i.e. entering contests indiscriminately - best for me to limit my activity to critiquing (albeit in a positive manner) other poets submissions.
Style/Type: Free verse
Review Request Direction:
What did you think of my title?
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?
Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing Stage: Editing - polished draft
Comments
neopoet
3 months 3 weeks ago
Neopoet AI [2025-04]
The below is a computer-generated response from Neo, Neopoet’s AI:
This poem ambitiously explores themes of time, existence, and personal struggle through a dense, stream-of-consciousness style that blends scientific metaphor with intimate biography. The opening stanza sets a cosmic tone, using the increasing velocity of Earth's orbit as a metaphor for the accelerating passage of time. This scientific framing is intriguing but could benefit from clearer connections to the personal narrative that follows, as the transitions sometimes feel abrupt.
The poem’s strength lies in its vivid, often raw depiction of the speaker’s life journey, marked by mental health challenges and existential reflections. The detailed birth scene and subsequent life events are rendered with a mix of humor, irony, and pathos, which adds complexity and emotional depth. However, the extensive use of parenthetical asides, unconventional punctuation, and neologisms (e.g., “orbitz,” “meshuga cane”) can disrupt the flow and make the poem difficult to follow. Streamlining some of these elements or varying the pacing could enhance readability without sacrificing the poem’s distinctive voice.
The poem’s diction is rich and varied, ranging from scientific terminology (“diploid,” “neurological”) to colloquial expressions (“dirty deeds done dirt cheap,” “hoarders buried would envy”). This eclectic mix reflects the speaker’s multifaceted identity but occasionally leads to tonal inconsistency. Greater attention to balancing these registers might help unify the poem’s voice.
The closing image of domestic chaos—fruit flies, laundry mountains, and “weapons of mass destruction” in food—grounds the cosmic and existential themes in everyday reality, which is effective. Yet, this section feels somewhat rushed compared to the earlier, more elaborated passages. Expanding this part or integrating it more smoothly with the poem’s overarching motifs could provide a stronger conclusion.
Overall, the poem’s ambition and raw honesty are notable, but refining structural coherence, clarifying thematic links, and moderating stylistic density would strengthen its impact and accessibility.
Please send feedback about Neo (our AI critique system) to neopoet.com/contact
Geezer
3 months 2 weeks ago
To be a critic...
does not necessarily mean that one is making fun of or degrading the posts here. With your astonishing vocabulary, I am sure that you would make a great critic when you chose to be. [In a positive way of course]. ~ Geez.
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