wheel ding utmost pro lix:
scrum compulsions won
despite feeling dog tired, (like a ton
of bricks weighed me down)

while seduced by the sun
solar radiation from the sky didst lightly run
sans, i experienced
a weird wired wider sensation pun
knee sensation otherwise, this sun dry

older puppy nun
the wiser (feeling akin
to an overly sated book worm
to boot) on a Mon
Day, nonetheless, forced
by male incarnation from Lon
don, (via NON FAKE voices

inside my noggin) a potential ***
these tired eyes, could NOT stop reading
even with figurative gun
at my head, until only sluggish progress made,
which daunting task not fun
bore witness thru novel

(in this instance plotting thru - dun
know if fie could finish
One Hundred Years Of Solitude -
by Gabriel Garcia Marquez)

pea pulling his story with bun
dulls of Hiss panic
Alpha Numeric characters, -
per printed page punctuated

concluded with a period,
(premature mental dejected ******* exclaimed
how ah yee got trounced
by harsh obsessive compulsive task master.

"Nay unto you Matthew Scott"!
Uttered by exactly same grievous rot
while er...mailer daemon (as above, ***
tent shill slave driver subsequently not

quite ditto for identical bon mot
mind wielding **** mask kid ding lot
intonation, now setting me hot
to worry about my thinning hair,
the little atop nixed noggin aye got

as expressed vis a vis A previous poem
of mine titled 'Argh! I suffer the plight of Bad
Hair Year In One Day!'

your arms
of
fashion
painted

am
i
here

your subtle questions


my ears open dear
what love have you
to
propose
laugh
with
me
for
awhile

paint me
in
that
picture
beautiful
with you
holding
hands
you
soothe me


though my soles wore thin
released
am
i
from
the
mother
in my
shoes

still
am
i
found
with
mother
in my
shoes
dance with me again
let me watch you twirl
like you did
in that dream

we held you close

do you remember
please tell me you remember
past my afflictions
you
have
read me


another voice calls to me
what is this that approaches me
what arms have been bore
that my reasoning
be
questioned

have me myself an i arrested
we have
caught
me
less
?



























...
..
.

A slip
                        A stutter
I fell way deep          
          Into that trap
     my life once surrounded
     just as it surrounded me

i could not escape
until it no longer wanted me
and put me high high high up
Out of the temptation
Away from the attention

I so desperately wanted to just jump
Jump and fall until
I hit that sweet spot
Back into it's entrancing world
But with every step I took towards
Falling in
The farther away the ledge was
From my feet.

Sealing off
a world that I was
Accustomed to

And now
I think about recovering
And also
I think about slipping back in
And
I think that I will never learn

Mortals as we are;
in quest of the Divine.

Oh, how our weary souls longeth for Thee!
How we yearn to be with Thine.
How we seeketh to understand Thy attributes,
That we may loveth you, Divine.

The world has naught in store for us
Wandering as foreigners we art,
Waiting for a sheer bliss of rest,
Until we reach the Promised Land.

In here we fret, suffer and toil,
Battling and struggling over lure
Nonetheless, we won’t surrender
As we remember our blessed hope.