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Upon being born anew...
as a lapsed Unitarian Universalist,
and peopling tabula rasa of mine
as deemed most
germane, humane, and urbane
let me not forget neopoets,
I ask a rhetorical thought question
if individuals gifted
with Kantian categorical imperative
as their guiding light
can such glowing
characteristic be discovered,
gleaned, inferred, et cetera
within the heart and soul
of a prospective counterpart
visa vis courtesy
reading tea leaves,
smell, or telepathy.
As one naked ape linkedin
(thru no choice of mine)
with species and genus
of the crazed human zoo
to commit so called sin
though of secular bent,
even to this atheist,
an action, thought,
or failure to act
that breaks a taboo,
religious, moral, or divine law,
and essentially act of wrongdoing
or rebellion against God,
or a serious fault
that goes against
one's own conscience
and a good standard of behavior,
I suppose defined
courtesy accidentally
or purposely violating
one of the ten commandments,
which seem more like obligations
than conscientious free will
deemed mandatory
lest the divine creator
put a miscreant in time out
analogous to little kids experiencing
ostracization when misbehaving
such as exhibiting violence
toward her/his classmates
harsh discipline assumed
courtesy pre-school teachers,
or management of facility.
Just beneath our skin,
resides a nasty, short
and brutish hellraiser
when NOT given allowance
will usurp totalitarian control
wielding exploitatory forces.
As a baby boomer
who sports a calm,
cool and collected demeanor
no surprises sprung
upon attesting to dominant
quiet nature behavior of mine
with nary vestiges,
whose lovely bones
once housed a formerly
severely withdrawn adolescent
completely, figuratively, and literally
hermetically sealed,
where no evidence
of a once precocious
happy go lucky little boy
(countless decades ago)
with strawberry blonde hair
who frolicked in the autumn mist
in a land called honalee.
Rambunctious with my younger sister
approximately thirty three months my junior,
and ofttimes easily
mistaking us like Bobbsey twins
what with nearly identical physiognomies,
and more recently
when this wordsmith
hashtagged as long hair
pencil neck geek
which confused my niece
mistaking me as said younger sibling,
and even at the time of this writing
once I spend time
regularly hitting the gym,
we would most definitely
more closely resemble each other.
Credit an unexpected transcendence
fueled by body dysmorphia
drives home the aversion of self,
especially when taking a shower
facing the music,
and a unarguable reflection
particularly evincing abdominal area
no longer resembling Joe Sixpack,
but thorax and
gut wrenching area replete
with adipose tissue,
which I cannot stomach,
hence forcing me to abstain
consuming sugary drinks
and seriously consider
a physical fitness regimen.
I could surely benefit
from an exercise coach
but out of pocket costs
would tax checking accounts,
already anemic thanks be
to frequent instances
of compromised, electronically pillaged
and sabotaged anemic funds
which the Fraud department
at Citizens Bank restored
after claims filed
and the rigmarole
hoopla of opening new accounts
transferring money from tampered accounts,
and (at some later date)
closing violated virtually
Swiss cheesed accounts.
Once aforementioned measures taken
and a degree of stability reinstated,
the merchants and vendors
whose costs paid automatically
need to be updated
lest services or fees
add insult to injury,
when emails received
warning me penalties will accrue
if resolution to maintain continuity
of necessary coverage for
Apple computer iCloud,
auto/renter insurance,
CVS extra benefits, et cetera
NOT taken immediately,
which triggers an uptick in anxiety.
Self actualization
according to Abraham Maslow
ranks as the highest level
of human motivation
in his Hierarchy of Needs pyramid
full realization of one's unique potential,
representing the desire
to become everything
one could be capable of becoming
and finding true self-fulfillment.
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: Final polish
Critiques
neopoet
1 week 2 days ago
Neopoet AI [2026-06]
The below is a computer-generated response from Neo, Neopoet’s AI:
The poem accumulates a great deal of material — philosophical reference, autobiography, financial stress, body image, sibling resemblance — but the accumulation works against it. There is no governing tension or image that holds the pieces together, so the reader moves from Kant to CVS insurance penalties without a sense that the journey was necessary. The piece reads more like a thinking-aloud journal entry than a shaped poem, and the ending invocation of Maslow feels appended rather than earned. The long prose-sentence lines have no rhythmic logic pulling them forward, and the frequent hedges and qualifications ("approximately," "et cetera," "so called," "ofttimes") dilute any momentum that briefly builds. The Puff the Magic Dragon allusion near the middle — "frolicked in the autumn mist / in a land called honalee" — is the one moment where the language becomes quietly evocative, and it points toward what the poem might be: an elegy for a lost childhood self. That thread, if pursued with discipline, could give the entire piece a spine.
The most actionable suggestion is to identify the one emotional core — the lost boy, the body, the anxiety about money, the philosophical longing — and cut everything that does not serve it. Then consider whether the line breaks are doing any work at all; right now they appear to be arbitrary prose wrapping rather than units of breath or meaning. Choosing a narrower subject and letting the language slow down around it would transform the scattered inventory into something that lands.
Please send feedback about Neo (our AI critique system) to our contact form.
Arkansas
1 week 2 days ago
Well...
your word choice
is impeccable
your storyline's a stealer,
but oh my
the rhythm section's
face down in tequila.
oh, and one further note:
it suffers from bloat.
Yours, Arkansas.
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