Neither fame, nor fortune sought,
sans this anonymous wordsmith,
whose quirky pastiche (no matter
evokes collywobbles, when risky
business undertaken to spill forth
most confidential personal woes),

broadcasting a heart of darkness,
Joseph Conrad might find quaint-
lee amusing, & considerably less
far reaching encompassing than
his (former) humanity ink home
passing (just one heir iz all seek

king soul full asylum), versus us
storied author, (not me), whose
didactic éminence grise, moreso
attributed, thee now esteemed
Polish man of letters to leave a
nonpareil earning, deserving, and

crowning legacy far greater than
yours truly, could ever hope for,
though as iterated with opening
sentence, neither renown, nor a
bucket load of money motivates
this anonymous scrivener, he me

rilly aspires to clutch ephemeral
notions (yes some themes recur
more than once), nonetheless a
euphoric exuberance arises, no
matter, one or more pairs oven
ranging unknown reader's keen

eyes scowl at this petrified disc
ore dent fountainhead, he dares
alluding to his saddled beasts of
burden on par with shrugging,
colluding, bearing, et cetera atlas,

perhaps presuming this measly
mortal strives to trick up ersatz
scratchings asthma grandiloquent
(albeit, "FAKE") Magnum Opus, nyat!

This informed cognoscenti disavows
any haughty, lofty, pretentious, etc.
thinker only enjoys waggish badinage!