Verses! Foiled Again!

By R. W. Paupore

This book is the second installment of random stream-of-consciousness verse. It defies convention in many ways, and many academics and purists may be critical of the style and techniques used. The author is aware of this but not disturbed. At least not by that.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9781984577382

R. W. Paupore

R. W. Paupore is a lifelong writer from northern Michigan currently living in Hawaii.

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Copyright © 2020 by R. W. Paupore.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 04/30/2020

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CONTENTS

Of Jessica

Heeday’s Wedding Poem

To

Jessica,

whose indomitable spirit illuminates the world.

*     *     *

Julie splashes on the scene

with effervescence

whereupon her arrival

immediately

bubbles over

drenching everything around her

with her twinkling expression

which cutely crinkles

as she, seemingly so innocent

sashays away

with a sweetness that rivals Häagen-Dazs

and Ben and Jerry’s

and a hotness

that would make molten lava shiver

the elders present

suddenly are

impish and mischievous

they all wear that expression that one gets

when thinking fondly of the grandkids

or when cowboys set their beers down

and go out to pat their horses

all the middle-agers

suddenly feel sexy

Julie just keeps splashing on

oblivious

to all the wonder and confusion

left behind her

*     *     *

*     *     *

As a younger man

I worked very hard and learned so much

but I beat my head bloody

against my social confinement

then I grew old

and sat down

and thought about my achievements

now I smile every morning

after shitting out the dirt

I ate the day before

from the smuggled spoon

feeding me the promise of freedom

*     *     *

*     *     *

Jaundiced jargon

jotted in a panic

convinces me that

every maverick thought

must be stated

before it’s too late

or another something else comes up

then

the result

is not what was intended

but

must be dealt with nonetheless

not every angle pans out

and most often

only briefly does live greatness

the haunting wisp of wisdom

has no initial odor

but

as time goes on

a stench grows stronger

*     *     *

*     *     *

Where I once employed the peen

I now utilize the claw

of the emotional tool I use

in the construction of my craft

the tiny brads and 16-penny spikes

of words and phrases

that once were hammered home

to hold the structure

are now wrenched loose

with a squeal and puff of rust

from the framework

that no longer serves a purpose

*     *     *

*     *     *

I often wonder

how much different I’d’ve become

if I got rich

how big a prick would I then be

if suddenly

everybody paid attention

to everything I did?

there’s no price tag on contentment

but indifference gets expensive

if instantly ignoring everything

became affordable

how far along would someone like me get

before it killed me?

I figure, of every ten hours spent awake

with stacks of hundreds

that eight of them would be great

but

I bet those other hundred twenty minutes

would really be a bitch

would it be worth it in the end?

would passion be dismissed

as unimportant and eccentric?

would dreaming different still be worth it

if it were suddenly less urgent and consuming?

how big a portion of my fortune

would I need to allocate

for sedation?

how frightening would it be

mistrusting everyone

by bringing out their greed

and never seeing the basic decency

inside most people?

like how it was with me

before integrity was replaced with skepticism

if I started buying caviar

and sipping imports out of stemware

instead of drinking beer from cans

and eating rice and beans

how different would it be regardless of appearances?

would it still be me?

and how expensive is

a really guilty funeral?

*     *     *

*     *     *

I buy beer and liquor often

but it’s been years since I’ve been carded

it’s a source of irritation

what’s the use

of ever even being granted

my poetic license

it’s been so long since I’ve produced