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Jul 2022
One garden variety generic male - the
very writer of these words feels akin
to an anachronism, whereby his being
alive at this juncture within the space/
time continuum (July 29th, 2022 – an
ordinary day) finds me mismatched

with the fast paced civilization – ink comp
passing the greater part of webbed wide
world, where premium placed upon
inherent strengths such as: supreme
abilities in artistry, athleticism, comedy
computers, horse whispering

(nay-saying patriarchal system -
particularly wrought courtesy
White Anglo Saxon Protestants,
whereby codas, dogma, edicts...
crafted to benefit mortals who
usurped land occupied by natives.)

I don't belong with any earthly age,
creed, denomination, nationality,
race, religion, et cetera, but consider
myself an outlier hiding in dark shadows
cast courtesy outer limits of the
twilight zone, a foreigner among strangers.

Aghast at explosive industrialization/
urbanization once sacred wild woodland
whittled away overlain bumper crops
comprising trappings green lighted
supposedly signaling progress unwittingly
overrides avast enclave (teeming with

diverse flora and fauna passively cleared,
dominated, expropriated by dictate of
commercialization, exploitation, fabrication
fueling amalgamation, fabrication, lubrication
oiling cogs and wheels sustaining, murdering
guaranteeing production trumpeted at

expense native flora and fauna acquisition,
cooptation, extermination, gratification
decreed ******* **** sapiens usurped
law of land i.e. eminent domain foisted
upon unsullied "new world" defining
European age of exploration, whereby

pristine undulating immense acres
indiscriminately partitioned, (despite
indigenous peoples unrecognized precedence
to remain holistic caretakers of Mother
Earth tendered, predicated, linkedin with
generations worth of sacredness, which

spiritual reverence meant naught to
unwelcome trespassers solely hell bent
to force acquiescence, compliance,
obeisance,... to warlords, whose cruel,
diabolical gall lee jeepers libidinal
incursions sought extinction toward

defenceless native inhabitants subject
to machinations spelling extermination,
yet their restless spirits infiltrate occupants
of once happy hunting grounds devoid
without a trace, when this bucolic tract
devoid of present schlocky vinyl zoned

abodes, whereby fast disappearing vestige
alluding to pastoral vista spurs overactive
imagination regarding yours truly, who
chiefly hankers he got born during
sparse population versus pell mell hustle.
Written by
matthew scott harris  64/M/schwenksville, penna
(64/M/schwenksville, penna)   
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