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Oct 2017
thine distorted reflection rippled
within rain maker's pool upon a midnight clear
full moonlight flooded shallow abyss,
cleaved fractal structures of silence
reverberating deathly hallow from 'ere
to infinity, whence magic wand
whipped out from whereabouts unknown

wove enchanting spell atop me shades
at more'n fifty gray hair
to fore, awakened from drunken stupor,
whence sober self
saw repulsive trouper fluid dynamic image jeer
at *** bellied, dead panned,
and ad libbed the mere
ore image lam bent, mutilated spindled
various aspects of myself a paired

which, aghast at such creepy distortion i didst rear
like a bucking bronco unclear
how this horrid, jagged, limned paragon did wear
a grotesque from heart of darkness – maybe Zaire
or Zulu-land, this soaked silhouette half bare
from the waist to head showed unmanly
sagging overly engorged *******
plus right and left elephant sized ear
egad, THAT CANNOT BE ME,

yet upon performing self exam a glare
ring outburst ensued,
cuz thy once bronzed handsome physique
grist for a Joker to jeer
and fodder made for television series created,
directed, and executed by Norman Lear
which role might be temporary for Halloween, but near
lee every SINGLE day and night,
thy aged dusk fraught hominid ******,
leaped, pooh poohed I ham ill prepared

to accept, roistering, rollicking,
rueing this Frankenstein scarred
complex deplorable edifice able,
ready, and willing to be tarred
rather than evince flabbiness,
gruesome homeliness, instance

when no objection would arise

to live out the remaining days of this life
as the world wide web turns, spins, rattles...
and voluntarily sign myself into a stew ward
with (at minimum ), a ghoulish, gnarly,
gummy self activated door
leading to a privet hedge row trimmed
topiary resplendent yard
cuz every cotton pickin, friggin,
fingerhut lickin portal iz barred
dated Friday the thirteenth with **** face on that card!
Written by
matthew scott harris  64/M/schwenksville, penna
(64/M/schwenksville, penna)   
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