Aye dream of Genie (as a Lad din)
     Schwenksville, Pennsylvania -
     keystone state abbreviated as Pea Yay,
this stupid non huge poem
     really...a boot nuttin
     butta an overrated allay
zee good for nothing, bay

     sic ****** slob, bray
zing as a ("FAKE") pence heave
     trumpeting (Don Key Oat Tee),
     chutzpah twittering Prez, -
     whom stoop “To **** a Mockingbird”
activate hocus pocus “Go Set NRA
as a Watchman,” yepper, hip pip hooray,
whose **** sitters un mensch hen

     nib bill, one important,
     non binding ***** nilly play
book title, sans how to acquire,
     tousled windswept coiffed soufflé
rooted under sworn confidential heady
testimony (top secret only known
     between POTUS, FLOTUS,
     and hairstylist Tiffany Kaljic)

     helped grow "The Art Of The De..." lay
sham (poo poo) headline kept under ray
dar only "How To Get Ri." Dove lousy
tonsuring service, and how easy
to get Head & Shoulders above fray
dee cats - me owing over petty files

     versus joining gray
vee train via tracking
     "FAKE" ***** footing
     faux Trump wannabes, hence ICE hay
Immediately railroad competition
     viz, against ISIS speck did
Amazon tubby a root cause
thus resorting to

     "Midas Touch: Why...Ent...er
risk to get scalped, when,
     (though periwig poor
     hirsute substitute), I belay
burr the point far y'all
     (get a Fred – Roger over) to hoist
     by one's own petard oye vey,
while channeling das directv gray

gore re: haired (50 shades), and
     direct descendent from Kublai
Khan, a moost deplorable display
     yellowish, venomous, serpent,
     which poisonous scorpion size prey
with deadly fangs straight
     (tinned by orthodontists),
    a perfect set pearl whites in an array

as daggers hissed ("FAKE")
     snaky intergenerational viper, and
     true tomb ice elf flave
     heard like a pampered baby
(nick named Keebler Khan)
     unthinkable alternative
     (forever shunned near and faraway)
if this poetaster doth betray

his (my) devote followers, no matter
     admirably, dutifully, and gracefully
     fulfilling role as sommelier
     replenishing wine goblets
     with vintage chardonnay,
nonetheless reprimanding recalcitrants,
     who opt to breakaway
slamming, shaming, and scathing

     rants against brand name
     Matthew Scott Harris
     finds himself a castaway,
     thus unsure, how to write without delay
An insipid poem to pay
(overtime) homage about Labor Day
prepping mental gears
     glommed together like clay

while cruising at mock speed
     faster then (Tom Hawk)
     along the (Al Gore) rhythm information
     super highway expressway
axe chilly (sh...dont tell a soul
     lest I club burr you -
     ha juiced tees zing),

     yours truly intends
     to play umpteen (close
     to a bajillion) rounds of golf
     on the Harris fairway
Lest a Tony (nay)
boar hood tiger jumps
     out of the woods painfully sinking

sharp teeth into mine flesh for play
     jour quickly making mince
     meat then fillet
mignon before (prestidigitation
     i.e.presto) magically
     regurgitating my self fully intact
     as repurposed slimy trumpeting popinjay.