#rhymestyle

Every day is a page with a poem for you this book of mine I long to give to you and the voice of my heart wonders each time what would it be your mind, the answer from your eyes Would you throw it off the shore? Would you find it nice, but nothing more? Would you ask me to be yours? Tell me, what would you think for my spirit cannot sleep as love keeps me writing from the deep

I wonder, what's at the horizon?

As I've always seen it from a distance.

A place,where sky and land meet ,

With great persistence.

I try to reach it, attain it

But it always shift a bit .

Horizon is a place where -

Two worlds meet .

One is where fairies live ,

The other is the forest of concrete.

I think it's a place where-

Magic is not so rare

And imagination has no bound .

I wonder , what's at the horizon

I wonder what there might be .

By-simplyfunstar

Salutations,

And a happy fine helllo

My Name is Anon from the land of Ohm,

Welcome to my home away from home

Before someone tells you i stole it, it’s honestly just a loan.

And the place I serve my sentence for casting the wrong stones

in a land far away and a time so long ago

Anywho, I offer a service From the depths of my mind

It’s Fundamentally simple, yet beautifully sublime.

I need nothing to produce this timeless art.

I Make it with nothing from the end to the start.

Where it comes from who really knows?

I’ve pondered that for years and know that I don’t.

if you want to explain it, I hope that you won’t

Just enjoy the river no matter the flow

It’s a fun ride regardless of where it goes

📖Yes, the schemes of my rhymes are wild and chaotic.

Some call me an amateur, I’m not, I’m just neurotic.

The truth is I’m an alien, and it’s actually quite exotic.

But please Bear with me if this starts to get robotic.

I really hoped to trim and skim the topics

,Not convey myself as a nerdy alcoholic,

And stick to things that folks might find anecdotic

But now I feel it’s turning quite psychotic

At least it hasn’t taken a turn for the erotic

Or something grim like outbreaks of bubonic

Or anything racist or naively Patriotic

Thankfully I’m out of rhymes that I find melodic

Hopefully that might be just enough to stop it

But, it seems this poem is quite kaleidoscopic

And will recite a near rhyme to not seem idiotic.

Everyone just remain calm, or it might become despotic

I’ll use my gift of.linguistics to do my best to try calm it

I’ll craft a call for it to give response, follow, and frolic

perhaps to a series a sixty six of episodic biopics

Written by acne riddled junkies still hooked on phonics?

What a terrible annoying idea, I’m sure it will work!

Now, have at thee, you vile Flibbertigibbet jerk!

Now to tie of this stanza with some pointless fancy jargon

And A secret technique I learned from Marvin the Martian

At least I think it was him, but I suppose I could be wrong

That Martian moonshine they brew is actually quite strong

It must have been spiked with Plutonian cocaine

Or even Jupiter Juice because I went a tad insane.

I ejected my uncle from the airlock and didn’t sleep for a week

But I distinctly remember meeting that croaky, centurion freak

Because he’s the one that pointed out that Uncle Sam could still breathe.

Wait, was that the day we met or was that a Martian weed dream?

Come to think of it , it wasn’t my Uncle Sam, it was my Aunt Billy.

dreams are really are strange when IRL is just as weird and silly.

is it racist to suspect that Martians are a sect of black-faced Ku klux gladiators?

No matter , it’s time for the leafy super dank 420 psyche Modulator.

Perhaps enough of this chronic smoke

will be enough to make me wheeze and choke

And guffaw, and chuckle to disjoint my body and free my mind

To Temporarily pass right the hell out of space and fall out of time

To finally sober up and end this silly, flamboyant display of mine

I’ll huff and I’ll puff like a classic fairy tale canine

And if we can call this a poem it will conclude just fine.📖

Eureka! It worked! Suck my ink you linguistic Jerk!

Go find some other mediocre poet’s verse in which to lurk!....in.

*ahem*

As I was saying,

Perhaps it’s a talent I’ve honed over time.

I’m just thankful my talent was this and not mime.

No offense to my duochrome homies, I respect the anti-arts just fine.

But for me some things are just too much set up with no real punchline.

bravo if you’ve made it this far.

still entertained? Then, you’re an absolute star! 🤩

With me you’ll find no dark agendas or endeavors.

Just a mysterious bird that might be of your feathers

But also just a sad and lonely, alien Nerd

Whose only friend in this prison is the written word.

prison? Why, How utterly absurd!

Why would i label my home with such a word??

Never would I dare utter such terminology!

Such cockamamie slander warrants me an apology!

Among the word crafting nobles of highest celestial regard

I am a heralded saint and you a mere crusty begging bard!

My tounge might be forked and silver and my nose- long and brown.

But I will always be an honest lying minstrel and not a sad heartbroken clown.

Hm? What was that my dear? I’m sorry for that outburst you had to overhear

It’s just that The neighbors I have locked in my head

They bully my speech and critique every syllable said.

But now I suspect they’ll go away and finally drop dead

or maybe they’ll at least just make fun of you instead.

So just Relax and trade me your wonderful stories.

Go on, i won’t even find the mundane one’s boring .

Stick around, in my home you’re always most welcome.

Visitors are rare; smiling ones even more seldom.

But I think this poem can mutate one more time while i fetch

Ir seems to fancy the rhyme scheme flip from a-a to a-b

Before you say it please don’t get me wrong, comrade.

I am happy, just lonely, lost, and misunderstood...

Whether l seem overjoyed, miserable , hurt, or mad.

I feel how I feel not how i want or am taught I should....I

Most days I am thankful for whatever realm of whimsy births my art

But often These beautiful words can make things so much worse

Breaking Hearts made of glass, when mine won’t even start

I think my gift of petty prose may be just a vile Trojan horse.

If the pen I wield is mightier than their sharpest swords

And My weapons are not just verse and sloppy rhyme

Why do those I adore seem, at times, annoyed or bored

With these fleeting , flighty, flowing thoughts of mine?

So let us relax and trade our dreams and stories

Even those the other might find dreadful or boring

Anon is my name. I’m of the Land of Ohm

Giving lonely strings of words a place to call home

I have nothing to sell , I preach no religion or Champion a philosophy

All i have to offer are unsent love notes And a few cathartic apologies.

- Anon Ohmus

Mar 10, 2021