Matthew Scott Harris...ARG

This, a near imp
     possible mantra to apply
when this 2009
     Macbook Pro went awry
triggering this enduser
     to experience tidal waves of high
anxiety, which besieged this fie
foo fighting dirt po' pa well nigh,

who might need buy
another laptop, yet my
anorexic checking account
     on life support, no lie
could not afford, (to sigh
phone even one red cent,
     all because ordinary healthy
     electrons deployed aye

did NOT see usual expected
     predictable apple luck
     quiche hun activity via my
left and right eye,
yours truly did not espy
usual kickstarting linkedin magic after
     preliminary electronic setup
     unexpectedly failed to start -

     no idea why
unbeknownst tummy, what
     ghost in the machine didst defy
programming code of honor,
     whereby pixel display
     unexpectedly exhibited "abnormal"
computer behavior -
     like a turncoat ally

meaning one hoop wrest
     illegally start button signaling
     subatomic warfare unleashing - guy
did missiles as taught
     during routine training
     to turn bot tin down stevedores
     loose on the Jobs (dan-g) rather, I
watched slack jawed,

     as that very singularly narrow
     vertical lined band width
(analogous to a medium black
     sabbath tipped magic marker)
     did NOT display
     prestidigitation instantaneous flash
     demarcating binary DMZ
     (demon mailer zone,

     viz dividing screen in half, -
     versus top to bottom array), qua
     incomplete automatic
     initialization stopped
     partway thru automatic preparation,
     after which cryptic
     error message appeared,
     which malfunction found me

     bursting with damned tears,
     and ready to cry,
(which gush of tear
     rivalled Hurricane Florence),
     cuz mechanical and/or
     application so much

     of my creative
     write minded person
     (reed literary) self choked life vie
ability to live, thus the only alternative
...insane asylum to apply!
--------------------------------
SPOILER ALERT...
postscript: after some fluke brought
desk top in view, the quick thinking
chap attached an external drive to a
USB port, and thus breathed easier
knowing a backup got made.
(Aborted attempt to mend fences, -
which version overly pedantic for
her minimal leisure/down time as
full time student at University.)
no...no...no...this tree
mend dose electronic
     endeavor of mine, ya see
NOT predicated on

     violating sworn
     confidentiality, which re:
maned wolf heartedly intact NEVER
     your privacy broached
     only with therapist (every Monday
     at 2:00 p.m. I see, who pre
sides in Collegeville), nee
NOR didst "mother" Abby

     give spoiler alert, an agree
meant made, but
     this feeble ambition,
     sans non rhyme
     mark hubble epistle
     awoke within me
to risk, (perhaps
     getting rebuffed, viz from me

to thine eldest daughter thee),
Versailles till young lady, asper
     your lifelong lee
gee in of ill feelings toward dis
     dada festering, figuring, key
ping raw emotions
     within our respective
     most sacred soulful place, this

     my atypical modus operandi
     i.e. theatrical poetical,
     and metaphorical jee
git sue sparring
     move minus referee
encapsulating dudgeon -
     unintentionally
     inflicting gushing, streaming

     widening gulf,
     and/or long fostering,
     when these 21st
     century days witness
     littoral breach comb
     ming dramatic hee
ving (akin to hurry
     cane Florence's

     club footing glee
fully bearing, dub
bling, and fuming “she”
bore down with
     full might) free
lee wreaking havoc as if
     both of us viewing
     the other as an

     unknown fierce arc enemy
thus, uncontrollable non
     Joe king) paternal
feeling constricted wherein wry
ting on the figurative brick
     wall (near the "FAKE"
     Firth of Forth),
     in good times found why...,

yours truly of course trolling, try
ying to stay afloat sigh
ying with forlorn resignation
     as the air supply
precipitously abba salute lee
decreased, thru challenge
     hang IP course
     to bridge (yar

     suspended animus) bee
tween das father,
     and first born daughter,
     this papa analogously stranded
     amidst the imagined
     raging river Kwai
clinging stubby phalanges
     pinned tingled, pinched,

     numbed gnarled slip
     eerily gripping, clinging,
     and aching fingerhut toes
     did severely cramp
'pon glacial parental frieze,
     plus notepad kept
     in shirt pocket
     ocean spray got damp

fortunately, these digitized
     with binary stamp
portfolio of poems
     didst dry by lamp
light, nsync with external

     hard drive secured
     multi media stored data
     from this scamp
purring adventurer of amp
     pull lat hood,
     the high seas across
     world wide web, I did tramp.
Alarming heart wrenching
     (stabbing non-abating
with genuine appall
     ling brutality) zing
across screen, or
     in print exacerbating
forcing, imposing viewer,
     and/or reader to revisit

     atavistic primal past activating
21st century Homo sapien
     to experience (albeit vicariously)
     quotidian tragic news,
     which relentlessly doth wring
realistic sadness, sans psychic sting
     eventually admitting figurative
     (sic) kill your hammer

     blows deaden public
     emotional trust, thwarting
the ability to feel,
     which subsequent empathy
     decreases to abba
     solute zero sensitivity,
     whereat comfortable numbskull state
     of mind turbo-charges,

     quickens, and nudges
callousness, via onslaught of killings,
     viz where plethora multi
     media platforms air
     (twenty four seven)
(far more horrible, reprehensible,
     unconscionable, et cetera
     egregious violence -

     splashed across front page, which
     grim stories lack shock value,
     and with flying blood red
     colors surpass fictionalized
     made for television macabre
     nuanced crime stories),
     way beyond the outer limits
     of the twilight zone of credulity

     visa vis not even discoverable
     tapping into the unimaginable realm,
     where dirty deeds
     done dirt cheap by
some contemptible person,
     who contemplates (premeditates)
deliberately inflicting
     maximum human suffering

which ignominious atrocity
     (interestingly enough) affects
     a portion of the
     population to wring
hands, while unbeknownst

     non relations (i.e. strangers) fling
arms around each other
     such as yours
     truly reckon eyes,
     the existence power of consolation
despite the lack oven available antidote.
Reprieve from damp,
     and rainy, or sultry weather,
     I schlepped a
     light weight Shaker
made folding chair
     out upon Jim Baker
Nabor's green acre
and once enthroned

     as a " FAKE FAKIR"
in rubberized web
     bing (seam ming lee
     lapis lazuli trimmed),
     this body of mine
     lapsed into Quaker
state averse to focus attention,
     gnome hatter eyes fixedly glute

to the pages, sans
     newsworthy printed material,
     to apprise and jute
keeping me astute
with major local and global
     journalistic burning hotspots
     whatsapp pining (the
     most recent issue Newt

about Gingrich commendable
     TIME magazine), boot
with rather light
     breeze tolerably blowing
temperate, moderate air currents
     enveloping this here ole coot,
who aint got Hoot
tee and the Blowfish, nor toot

from no mo' magic flute,
thus by natural
     dint cocked mean
looking head (you figure out
     which one) between
the devil and the
     deep blue seas tureen,
which gaze extended clean

skyward to cerulean vault
populated with strunk
     and white tufts
in stark contrast did lean
in to the verdant rich green
sward abuzz within
     invisible micro ecosystems
niched and stitched by Jean

E. Huss flora Dean
and endearing fauna
     minted quartered gene,
which hubbub of variegated
organisms sound
     accompanied motley crue
     of each scudding soundcloud
shape shifting bill

low whee near weightless
     (cottony ma their) keen
stern preachily mass stir,
     then puff (like
     a magic dragon),
     no more easily seen.
A query one respondent
     sent didst seem
tummy tubby sincere, possibly
     channeled by cyber sea men,
via bayou A true Britt, aye esteem,
sans abba ra ca dab invoked
     by the spirit Jim Beam
     unwittingly unleashed theme

for this reason
     one humble rhyme
     stir, Me doth write,
     boot promise NOT TO SCREAM
for convenient idea
     to expound ream
(room) minute eight ting,
     about mine previous poem

     "Sleep Inducing Powers...
     Computer Screen"
     smote an idea,
     I could never outdream,
no need to search,

      cuz renown unknwn fan gave
     rise to his nonmainstream
re: "By the way, Matthew,
     "How do you like
     your Lenovo computer?"

Perhaps understandably
     concluded the whole green
kit and caboodle
     tubby a stand alone lean
(and few an proud) machine
sprung from Apple royalty,
     (well linkedin to
     a stevedore jobber seam

ming lee on same playing
     field as a queen
(comprising an A-1
     actor/ actress team)
with Ali MacGraw -
     his wife number deux
which thread strays
     coon sitter ably,

     where unsuspecting reader few
ming with for me (easily)
     getting off track -
     tis only hue
man and hoopfully NOT Jew
van aisle attempting to interweave
     more than one
     concept (delicately loo

ping sentence strands),
     where warp, and
     woof no...no...new
NOT for any
    largesse, nor moo
hoof fish hints,
     but singing Giacomo Antonio
     Domenico Michele

     Secondo Maria Poo
shin knee (the above
     very long name, actually
     authentic i.e. "NOT FAKE"
     a stand alone queue
oh...whoa yes..yes...
     yes please shew
tolerance, how elegiac

     these metaphors too
be compared with
     operatic flourishes I view
as vital breathtaking woo
wing chords nsync with Lenovo "sue

do" flatscreen (NOT A COMPUTER)
yet expanded field of you
alphanumeric characters
     in no way resembles Zulu!
Of My (Lenovo External) Computer Screen

Within mere nanoseconds,
     (or less than an instagram ming
     kickstarter reddit snap,
     chat ting shutter
     fly), this bopeep
awakens (i.e. ascends) beep
ping from, a pseudo steep
descent transcendental

     restorative meditation,
     (though there be
     unREM burr hubble
     dream times re:
     viz zit ting me
     "Max C. Mum" security creep
right after headroom gets
     shut-eye as

     requisite upkeep
whereat, I still feel fluky,
     junky, and yucky,
     sans like the Cisco kid)
     ready to be
     tossed on scrapheap,
and wanna get
     right back asleep

this, no matter
e'en if temporarily
     feel rested, and cheap
per after doze'n
     (ala bright tailed, sheep
     push, and bushy eyed),
     primed to leap,
over historically

     fattened dustheap,
nonetheless this ole baby
     boomer purportedly reap
aired awakens from deep
slumber, yet suddenly without
     warning internal forces
     overpowering, qua in
     tense gravitational pull

     immediately pulling slip
     ping vacuuming
     suction yanking me (a dude
dill ling Yankee) helplessly,
     irresistibly back into zzz
     top land of Honah Lee
     courtesy of Sleepy's
     easy chair holy jeep

pers, analogous to Uriah Heap,
when clear out the blue...
(screen of death), what should
     appear without a clue,
but hypersomnia (excessive daytime
     sleepiness) heavy as an Emu
pursuing with full force
     like gang (lion) busters goo

goo wing nsync with
     Doctor Zeus then stopping,
     cuz Horton hears a hoo
cryptic message loo
wuss lee translated
     (by Alaska Natives
     holed up in their igloo)
essentially means view

pixels will unwittingly woo
spell bind and forever bind you
to a flickr ring cursor
and aux com1 (an ex port)
whatsapp pining
to the human zoo.
Professedly Plagues Psyche

I do not watch, while
     feigning to sip ale,
nor listen to Wail
ling Jennings poor
     imitation by prophetic
     local aborigines scent
     ting ancestor trail,
while plucking their

     Sing song ukulele
national anthem (tip towing
     thru the dale
lie la of hybrid tulips)
     hearty and hale
     Climatological headlines,
     more like a puffed up
     magical dragon exhale

ling nothing boot hot air,
     comprising a renown folk song,
     and/or futuristic tall tale
that usually pre
     dominate every airwave scale
ling the gamut of
     every frequency 24/7, rail
ling dire warnings,

     and no need prevails,
     particularly for those
     refusing to evacuate,
     and become sitting targets
     like quail caught
     in the cross hair
     for me to know
     onset of biblical pro

     portioned sized debacles
     (since joblessness thy status,
     cuz social security disability received),
     but more pertinently
     dire forecasts rarely manifest
     into monster mashing maelstroms
case in point
     being this predicted

     "three sisters of all hurricanes"
     Florence, Light
     Ning, and Gale,
found this storm chaser
     disappointed, cuz monstrous
     banshee's utter deplorable show
ranked as utter dud at least
     (in my book), they did fail

to wreak havoc
     falling far short
     to flatten every tree,
which limb mit
     to flash flooding
minor inconvenience
     forced every to sail
guy did by those freed from jail.
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