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This poem is part of the contest:

Neopoet Weekly 01/05/25 to 01/11/25

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Upon a dark and stormy night...

as jagged bolts of lightning
tore thru the the midnight clear
and figuratively ripped the sky to shreds
(analogous to jumping Jack flash),
and ear splitting thunder crackled
testing the threshold of tolerance
zombies of Sugar Hill came alive
and danced to the sound of music,
exhibiting spot on choreography
to the late Michael Jackson's thriller album,
whereat despite feigned affableness
of ineradicable purple creepy people eaters ,
the ghoulish fiendish beasts
wantonly ravaged entire hectares
(once flush with royally bountiful crops)
leaving farmer in the dell
thus rendering impossible mission
to sing Hi-ho, the derry-o,
cuz his countenance
plastered with a poker face
and future offspring born this way
after mutations arose
linkedin to hardscrabble existence
forcing inhabitants to eat grass
most likely tainted with pesticides
after incorporeal supernatural beings,
who roamed across the terra firma
sucked the pith and marrow
from Mother Earth until dry
then for good measure for measure
laid waste great swathes of land
from sea to shining sea
by expelling nasty
biologically hazardous waste products
(use your imagination)
subsequently bringing about demise
of all creatures great and small
far as the eye could see videre licet
think Sherman's march to the sea
triggering smoldering ruination in their wake
guaranteeing future harvest
for years to come
of nothing but scorching ash
compromising the blood, sweat and tears
and countless hours of backbreaking toil
spent sowing seeds across fruitful plains
after lush crop of vegetables
(just at the cusp of perfect ripeness)
waited to be reaped
or wolfed down by hungry human
all for naught, when homesteaders
helplessly watched in horror
ravenous, pestiferous, nefarious
loathsome jawboning haunting spectres
on par with jezebel spirit
burning down the houses
that calloused hands built
transforming breadbasket of America
into burnt offerings
of hollowed out encrustation
tell tale hulking framed charred skeletons
resembling outsize three dimensional anime
teetering upon foundations,
(where Atlas shrugged
and saw himself reflected
from birdbath pool resultant
as the above supported fountainhead
gushed a stream of water)
sabotaging family owned farms
harkening back generations,
when United States settled
by various and sundry colonists,
heeding manifest destiny
displacing and eradicating indigenous peoples
subsequently former subjects of the crown
or established vested gentry
within thirteen original colonies
by dint of force
expelled so called "noble savage"
courtesy chicanery, flattery,
and incendiary larceny,
which usurpation of bumper crops
courtesy dead souls trounced,
thus immediately creating food insecurity
for millions of people,
not only in the United States
but across the webbed wide world
goading people to be creative and scavenge,
whereby yours truly
limited his intake
of nutrients to a diet of worms...
and gluten and dairy free hors d'oeuvres
topped with icing laced
with various and sundry sized sim cards,
plus microprocessors insync
with silicon wafer chips
just for the sake
of being a curious (Georgian)
human replicated entity
within the laboratory.

A short time thereafter,
body electric of mine
slowly, inexorably metamorphosed
into a cross between
an artificially intelligent moon unit
and a beatific, biodynamic,
and bombastic hybrid entity
able, eager, ready and willing
to stand up against
marauders and riders in the storm
who commingled without pride nor prejudice
guided by sense and sensibility.

About This Poem

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

About the Author

Region, Country: PA, USA

Favorite Poets: Robert Burns, Charles Dickens, Robert Frost, Matthew Scott Harris, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Sylvia Plath, Gary Snyder, Henry David Thoreau, Walt Whitman

More from this author

Comments

Lavender

Lavender

5 months 2 weeks ago

Upon a Dark and Stormy Night

Hello!
So many remarkable and intriguing references to history, music, books, Mother Earth! Please give me just a hint as to how it all fits together. I am hooked by the title and want to fully appreciate the entire poem
Thank you!
L

J

Jane A. Rug

5 months 2 weeks ago

i plunge (nestea like) into the depths of my passion with the

english language, and avoid forcing any spurt of creativity, but welcoming helter skelter of whimsical thoughts (not unlike a magical mystery tour within the milieu of candyland) lending avant-garde and abstract proclivity to burst forth without discriminating the barrage of notions that flit to and fro, hither and yon within the sixty plus shades of gray matter that welcome gentle massage giving free rein to the nonsensical non-sequitur and tapping out a stream of consciousness, a winnowing process happens scouring the abyss of near infinite word combinations, which mishmash here a prime example letting fingers skitter across keyboard free and clear to burst forth with tangential whims allowing, enabling and providing a figurative palette to spill forth mélange of discordant syllabification unlike a more deliberate aggressive harried style, which swifty tailored into an exercise in futility, which mental self actualization regarding honing a writing style unique to yours truly (me) perhaps less obvious to the casual observer, which pronounced accidental discovery to coax puns seemed to manifest almost overnight maybe a few days or weeks ago as if the accumulative trademark flair linkedin to this, that or the other writer (among the many paperback and hardback books to enlighten me) undergoes unforced transmutation unbeknownst to this humble human, who might appear haughty with high falutin verbosity, but such exuberance on par with one generic guy adopting a guise of being tricked out with artificial intelligence merely surrendering do diligence to capacity latent within the hidebound restraints of habitual self denigration clamors to be unleashed as if my body electric co-opted by some unseen cosmic force.

matthew scott harris alias duyeer93@aol.com thinks he comes across as a babbling douchebag exuding nothing but utter rotten gibberish, yet he feels very recently infused with outrageous propensities (as if controlled by external elements of style) to fling slapdash on the screen whatever illogical enigmatic handy dandy blues clues impossible mission to comprehend.

Lavender

Lavender

5 months 2 weeks ago

Hello, Matthew,

Very enigmatic, and very compelling... and I salute you.
Thank you!
L