My motto comprises to exalt in this moment rather than delude myself with any grandiose illusions.
PREFACE: PREPARE TO SET ASIDE A PARTIAL ETERNITY
TO PERUSE THE CONTENTS OF THE FOLLOWING MESSAGE.
Ohm my...volt a mort...
coalescence of coaxed friendship
analogous to miarculous birth
whoa there lovely reader,
no doubt without resistance,
your smile can generate
amp pull power to light up earth
noah matter this totally tubular stranger
unknown to thee as Adam,
evokes an aura, charisma, enigma,
patina, persona...wis spurs this note
to kindle courtesy tinder warm
fine companionable individual connection
exuding sheepish mirth
per intuiting your wool e worth.
I enjoy making accessible, convincible,
evincible, gullible, intelligible,
kissable invoking comments
perhaps on account oof a cerebral dent
though many respondents rage at this gent
sans his playful wordiness leant
only genuine acquaintanceship meant,
and their valuable time spent
to decipher my gibberish,
which binary logorrhea might rent
asunder unsuspecting cyber surfer
evicted out the human league
since possessing propensity
for presenting ambitious, burdenous,
conspicuous, disadventurous, onerous,
and tremendous cerebral task
necessitating hours decrypting
blurb subsequently forcing
whatever gender appended recipient
to an anonymous he/she,
forsaking their precious time
maybe even unwittingly affecting individual
impacting his/her employment
ending result they/them live in a tent.
This poet knows a mew lion
ranges of feline artful dodging cat skills,
(especially when cavorting among comedians
associated and linkedin with Borscht Belt - ha)
concocting incomprehensible confusing trills.
Some of these claws pickling skills include maintaining mouse sized dignity muttering cheeses crust (while under fire from Stuart little), kibitzing, nibbling on self crafted bon mots, and rubbing dead giveaway crumbs (from double entendres) using all faux paux into thy maw paw cent less whole foods masticating mouth, where commestibles enter without choppers.
Sanguine at one hundred minus thirty six, or two squared + three squared + four squared + five squared + square root of one hundred = an apt and pithy phrase to matt's matrix labyrinth best characterized as a twisted maze (along a boulevard of broken dreams) lodged deeply inside this dutiful dada shackled to an endless role of scullion, but silently gesticulated for salvation.
This spruced up fun guy (and not unduly coy -- see) pines for friendship to cure nostrum from domestic plight i.e. living like a caged rat in cell bite size state.
Just a spoonful of sugar (hummed to that classic mary poppins melody) will most definitely help this medicine go down.
Mine current existence like a modern Henry David Thoreau.
After perusing this rambling prose (from mine being psyche feeling walled in), you might judge this personal struggle more on a par with Oliver Twist.
I sincerely seek salient gallant wings (with or without dish pan hands) to take this humble human being who can (ha) bring a fairy tale ending to my Cinderfella patterned existence.
Away I want to soar no matter such fantasy a fool's paradise.
An extra ticket to paradise (actually four powerball tickets bought today – September 7th, 2023 for that reason) just needs to be made manifest, and thee could be a boon, balm, salve, and tonic plus receive preferential treatment to travel in tandem with one stranger in a strange land.
Only upon surrendering to a deep and peaceful boss ah nova heavy metal sleep, (which dream state will take place soon) does the fictional world (within the wide wedded web of this wayward thinking wanderer) take hold and serve up a brief hiatus to a life devoid of contentment.
This amateur baker would cook up a souffle or rhubarb ken pie if willingly processed from mine own personal lake woebegone awash with raw bits of flotsam and jetsam and empty boxes of powdered milk biscuits, the one with big blue stains on the outside.
San sol invictus served ancient civilizations as their com-stock load.
Like a modern day icarus this wedded warbler mulls the possibility of finding a real live likeness of what constitutes a hologram of his mythic muse, who exudes able bodied confidence donning every filament.
Keep on dreaming cyber buddy, an anonymous reader might think, telepathically communicate or even communicate via email, which idealism goads me to broadcast the following fanciful (and perhaps not so far fetched) feasible find among the frequent purveyors of this website.
The vague nebulous barely perceptible kernel of a fictional account per my own conjured up vision (as pertains to what might comprise a companionable buddy to me) could conceivable materialize into an actual arch de triumphant revelation once landing this wistful nugget of an idea into the conscious of unconscious mind of an unknown galivanting fellow writer, who just by a fluke (of the worm holes populating the universe) finds themself piqued with curiosity about me.
Not a whit of information yet exists about this dabbler of prose, who envisions himself in seventh heaven (no matter he in truth really admits to espousing an atheistic outlook on the cosmos), where fickle finger of fate (usually the middle one raised by an obstreperous onlooker) ideally finds me all in the family within human species able to articulate in a civilly (disobedient) and democratic manner emotions, ideas, sentiments and thoughts with an unpretentious air of sophistication.
Said **** sapien (meaning balsamic scented hominid) would also possess a cosmopolitan demeanor, yet clear of all any modest knotty suaveness, but also able, eager, ready and willing to allow, enable and provide quite an ability to get into an amazing tangle of literary profundity.
This older fellow seriously believes he got borne in an in apropos century and revels in another illusory consideration - aside from trying to summon forth a living gal of flesh and bone from this overactive imagination maybe an accompanying bipedal hominid within medium of time travelling.
Frequent farcical notions flit to and fro inside the biggest *** ***** triggering bonafide premature ejaculations of bonhomie. Case in point hair with not an immensely large head.
This wordsmith would feel at home if transported to the renaissance or medieval ages, or more recently that war between the north and south.
If hedging bets with yours truly being a reincarnated union soldier of yore, you no doubt already can infer, where thy political and more pertinently national federation of me as singularity amidst webbed wide world would get cast.
Okay, the original aim of (what many might hashtag as yahoo) really wishes to explore make believe world, and just maybe ***** inquisitive online browser, who although she might not be seeking male relationship just by happenstance or circumstance experiences some inexplicable necessity to reply.
In the event should lady luck liberate yours truly would be like a divine guiding star, I know best to tamp down any precipitous illusions of grandeur, but would let the natural course of familiarity usher the chap a roan of sacredness to be cherished for however short or long such a friendship might endure.
Oh yes, an ongoing (specifically offline) interaction motivates this doubting thomas fool hardy spurious posting to be ransacked with absolutely total consent in an effort to be plucked from this (utterly difficult to describe) morass of contemptuous husbandry discontent with self, yet consideration to stay faithfully married with wife (since July 25th, 1996) would be a moderately strong consideration.
So, now with a zing
or an unexpected
gold plated invitation after yodeling
hoop ye kin be a yang 2 me yin
Asia step into the digital xing
via summit da fall low wing
written *** jest byte ting
tongue in cheek unsure if phone will ring
in an effort to hear pleasant,
yet discordant musical ka -- ching
for cherished pennies, nickels, dimes,
et cetera from heaven to bring.