“Serendipity: the Opposite of Zemblanity”

Day 16  brings forth poem 16. Serendipity is the term given over by my cousin Ellen for inspiration in my Month of Poems project. Although I tried with every fiber of my being to believe that I could find serendipity in the world at present, there is much to the contrary in evidence. So I found inspiration in another way. I asked the Mighty and all-knowing Oracle at Google what the opposite of serendipity was. Google obliged me. No riddle spoken, but a succinct definition: “making unhappy, unlucky and unexpected discoveries occurring by design” basically an “unpleasant unsurprise”. So, there it is right there. Perhaps, a bit of serendipity after all, finding out that the opposite of the term basically defines the “unpleasant unsurprise” sitting in the White House. I don’t really care what your political leanings are, and I certainly don’t care what you think of mine. The one thing my parents taught me was to not put up with nonsense. I knows it when I sees it. A multitude of complete and utter Zemblanity.

 

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Public Domain: https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2015/09/20/07/21/dirt-947985_960_720.jpg

 

 

“Serendipity: the Opposite of Zemblanity”

You sir, are a Zemblanity.

Our zeitgeist’s calamity.

The poster child for cowardice,

A model A in avarice.

You have no depth.

No self-respect.

Playground bully.

Privileged fully.

You have the power to help.

But all is withheld.

No leadership skills.

Just lobbyist shills.

No integrity.

You, smother civil liberty.

There is no excuse,

For how obtuse,

Your fascist zeal,

Makes bad deals.

One long run up,

Since January sun up.

You largely suck,

WTF?

 

Winter isn’t coming.

Winter is here.

Cold hardened heart,

Incapable of empathy,

or civility.

Arrogant.

Out of touch.

Tone deaf.

Bereft,

of wisdom.

Petulant child putting people at risk.

Those that are sick.

Good people that need jobs.

You are incapable of conquering the demon of yourself.

Pity.

Pity for you.

Zinging friends and foes,

Anyone opposed.

You have no concept of the higher ideals set forth from founding fathers.

A more perfect union?

If up to you, you’ll bust up unions.

This union.

You can’t make a deal.

You sir, are one big Zemblanity.

Our Zeitgeist’s calamity.

You are the opposite of an alchemist.

Everything you touch,

Turns to orange dust and dung.

 

 

 

 

“Desert Rose 🌹”

Poem 15 on day 15. A day with personal meaning for me. My mother would have been 65 today, had she not rushed into that burning pet shop to save all the animals from certain death. A salutation to JEB in the Granite State. Your mischievous and clever invoking of U2 imagery helped give this poem wings, petals, and thorns.

 

 

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Image Courtesy of John Connolly “Desert Rose “

“Desert Rose 🌹”

How does a desert rose grow?

Does anyone know?

 

In order to survive,

To live, spawn, and thrive.

Roots deep down inside.

Among soil so dried?

 

Fierce determination.

Churning fixation.

Power over choice.

Heralding voice.

Leading the march.

Notable heart.

A pinch of spite.

A lifelong fight.

 

Growing up, upward still.

Fixing stems and leaves at will.

Your color juxtaposed,

In landscaped sepia tones.

Sticking out.

Richly proud.

Stretching roots deep.

Insistent for your seeds.

The chances for them best.

Thorns at times deep pressed.

Yet, they found no traction.

Despite, your reaction.

Growing, despite the pains.

Your span withstood the rains.

Showing a beauty, a radiant light.

A lesson, gained insight.

Dedicated, to your duty.

All the time, including,

What best part of you,

You could imbue.

Love in the light.

Love in the fight.

 

How does a desert rose grow?

Does anyone know?

“No one knows better than me”

Poem 14 is for James Edward, who is busy living free or dying up there in the Badlands of NH. Depends on the day. This is also for all the divas riding the rails who feel a bit of entitlement.

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http://cdn.smosh.com/sites/default/files/ftpuploads/bloguploads/1213/epic-stinkeye-in-crowd.jpg

 

“No one knows better than me”

 

Dear Ms. Andry,

Why you so angry?

‘Cause I would not give up my seat?

 

Don’t be surprised,

When we lock our eyes,

And I am where you want to be.

 

I will not move,

I’ve nothing to prove,

And will sit here most happily.

 

Seems a matter of course,

That the seat is not yours.

Equality redefines chivalry.

 

Your haughty high huffs,

Only deepen rebuffs.

So stand on your two equal feet.

 

Limbs all intact,

Enough with the act.

You’re certainly not elderly.

 

You have no preg paunch,

So I’ll remain staunch.

I’m equally as tired as you.

 

Turn off your dull pout,

You will not win out,

My arse is on this seat like glue.

 

I avoid your stink-eye,

And not meaning to pry,

But you look like the cat’s got your tongue.

 

I’m not in accord,

With your air of import.

Stop being so severely high-strung.

 

You seem to insist,

But I will resist.

You cannot have it your way.

 

You’re doing so great.

Standing so straight.

Guilt will not make me your prey.

 

Here is a prop,

I get off at next stop.

You can finally have this seat.

 

What’s that  you say?

You get off at the same?

No longer a chance to compete.

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

 

“Soul Mate”

Poem 13, is my lucky 13. Soul Mate, given over to me by Sue K. I know what it means to her, and what it means to me. Here is something that I’ve had kicking around over the years, that expresses the concept simply. No frills, just all matter-of-factly, like.  Dig it!

 

LissetteChris
“Soul Mate” © C.P. Hickey 2015

 

“Soul Mate”

Life is but a dream,
From which I dare not wake.
Traveling down the stream,
Each moment mine to take.

I sought your love most true,
Each bend ahead to pass.
Never knew how love with you,
Could be the kind to last.

In spite of me you give,
And take less than your owed.
Your selfless acts do live,
In promised fields well sowed.

The sun appears in sky,
Darkness soon recedes.
This man is humbled by,
Your daily loving deeds.

If life is but a dream,
I bet my life to stake.
That life without you means,
A dream not worth its sake.

 

“Bravery”

Poem 12 comes on a dreary day. Bummed for obvious reasons. I don’t have many words. Just a haiku. Forgive my effort, my heart isn’t in it today.

 

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Public Domain https://images.pexels.com/photos/289772/pexels-photo-289772.jpeg?w=940&h=650&auto=compress&cs=tinysrgb

 

“Bravery”

You stood up to hate.

A coward was scared of you.

Love will always win.