the following poem composed years ago when my mindset less upbeat than the present
yet please try to avoid making any judge mint.

Like a tumbleweed aimlessly blowing in the wind
across the infinitely open and wide prairie land
(which wasteland famously epitomized by T.S. Elliot)
a barren vista ravages the metaphorical landscape
of one measly mortal malcontent male
bumping and scraping along an accursed habiliment
just barely avoiding and dodging the diabolical demons
mercilessly and unrelentingly
ready to ****** this somewhat sanguine Simian
who finds himself amidst the pitfalls
of a tortured and twisted existence
racked with the pinions that describe demonic dungeons
damp, dark, demented domains - a veritable no man’s land
and one impossible to escape from no matter how fast I flee
from the fearful, fierce some and phantasmagoric forms
figments of my imagination
yet real and tangible as bone and flesh
who haunt sacred house of slumber
and transmogrify me into a loathsome madman
ranting and raving senseless gibberish and gobbledygook
yet perceived as metaphysical and philosophical sane
and sound syllabification
from one womanly World Wide Web wayfarer
which virtual vagabond venerates vowels
and possesses means and tees to till verse
akin to a sorceress who waves a magic wand
to produce such supreme sentences
and weaves tantalizing terrific topographic tundra’s
that this admirer
of her artful and colorful poetic endeavors
prompts him to accompany her
as a thought-provoking troubadour
amidst the information super byways and highways
along winding labyrinths of critical thinking
or simply stepping stones of silly rhymes without reason
all the while giving subtle egress
into that chamber of secrets
long kept shut tight
to maintain that sure footed stance of solitude
whose only entities happened
to constitute the trappings
of literary lugubriousness
those tombs of largesse identified as great works and masterpieces of literature
yet careful to avoid complete intimacy
lest that cherished solitude
shattered and a heart rent asunder
twin perils of loss
that provide an understandable cautionary tale
to the author of this rambling missive
a most profoundly perceptive and acute Ape man
touched to the quick with a bit of angel dust
and aware that this agonized
and angst riddled  arboreal beast
contents himself with the confines of cyberspace.

from::matthew scott harris
who resides in pennsylvania, usa
email address::hay4four@aol.com