Regret
It's one of those things
Get under your skin
Splinter-like
As ******* as getting them
old-broomstick style
Aggravatingly , not
Because they're there
But rather from how you got them
Poor. Life. Decisions.
7pm blackout in the scheme of things.
******* off, or on, maybe.
And the worst part
always being
That
You
Can
Do
Everything
In your own ******* right mind
To forget, or to move on
You can change your attitude
Your view on life
To reflect the "new-and-improved"
You.
But it will always be there,
Regret.

I once told you "without you I'd be all alone"
do you remember what you said
you said you loved me

And I believed you, you know I did
I love you
remember when i said it too

I still mean it despite what happened
though you're disbelieving now
it's true, aggravatingly true...

No, I don't blame you for this
both of us were at fault
you can't stop time from changing us

Oh, I don't know if we'll be friends
perhaps when we find ourselves
again I'll come to this place

But despite this being the end
even if you won't say it...
I love you

Clouded judgement, biased opinions
based off stereotypes and ancient value
your own experience from perhaps too many years
it all makes sense but you can't lay it down on me.
Always wanting what is best, never fully healing past
what happened in your world which was catastrophic
but at some point we all come to the realization to move on
if we are strong, now I know why I can never seem to reach you.
Always seeming to gather thoughts and emotions reports and reviews
of everything from other people, having to master knowing what they think
before making up your mind so you aren't even really yourself
which is part of why you can't seem to reach me.
After all this time, nights of crying and asking why I have so much pain
can all this anger find its place, having no inclination as to where it all has come from
not personally experiencing what some may end up calling the textbook definition of
depression, post traumatic stress ,anxiety, attention deficit hyper whatever
but yet all at once aggravatingly confusing , constantly asking question after question
knowing they ultimately came from your inabilities, getting over every of my problems
simply because I was strong enough ,ironically in part because of you
but I think with those higher standards that could have been set by either one of us
the anger of you not fulfilling that is your fault the life you lead is your choice mine is mine.

Suffering from the commonest of poet’s laments,
I sit staring at an aggravatingly blank page.
I flip my pencil through my fingers, hoping it will break
And I will have to take the time to go and find a new one.

I can hear the subtle ticking of the clock and it annoys me.
I never hear it when ideas crowd my pen.
I turn the radio to Doo *** -
Maybe that will wake creative juices-
But I just end up singing with the Tenor.

I hit the Mac and try to see what others wrote
But that just makes me feel like I am hopeless
And who said I could be a poet anyway.
I know so little of the forms and rhymes.

It’s time to go and get the dinner going
Fame will have to wait another day.
I close the Mac and trundle to the kitchen
To see if I can manufacture poems in a sauce pan.
ljm

Gratitude suffuses me today
at prospect to plumb the depths
of a fledgling friendship
(respecting fidelity to wife)
even one bound
within the parameters of cyberspace,
I feel courtesy your amazing grace
figuratively stitching omnipotent binding
with virtual satin and lace
proceeding cautiously to experience
belonging to human rat race.

Night and day, a thrashing
like an invisible whiptail
surge van hail,
doth swell me *****
excruciatingly, doggedly blackmail
capriciously be-numbingly,
aggravatingly assail
mine conscience in
what paltry pale
capacity of this gamboling male,
I can "pay forward,"

whatever means shale
be moost apropos avail
to offset bewail
ling (internal psyche doth ale
hankering) against utter
lifetime (mine) peppered
with emotional, physical
and social destitution
bereft, viz fail
ling to maximize inspiration
reverberating as vibrant detail

lacking even justa minimum
desire to live
(visa vis no way
discover ring, nope nar even
"FAKE" king minuscule appeasement
of my body, mind,
and spirit triage during)
hell...shove (shelve) aside
such gloriously noble benighted role,
amidst upending folktale
re: King Arthur and His Knights

of the Round Table
futilely searching for holy grail,
where steadfast conviction
emboldens this heart and hale
spirited mindful,
sincere hard drive spurs
(neigh saying horse
sense of mine),
where ambition saddled
to air (dan sing) quailing,
yen propelling (yours truly),

with sincere humanitarian,
(i.e. blood driven)
philanthropic spiritual zeal,
I tried to unveil,
this reasonably rhyming thumbnail
sketch poetically versatile
within this spurious verse despite
any trials undermining travail
rather mine heart felt genuine
motive fueled by impetus
to contribute within e kale

logical, fizzy hollow gee, humanity,
with integrity, magnanimity,
and quality fervency,
while still adept, adroit,
agile, and alert,
(cuz America needs more lerts
to become great again)
ironically steel tougher than
nine inch rusty nails,
duh pleating ability dovetail
to bug (or wug) gee wholesale.

Adieu from Matthew Scott Harris
who tapped out this message
while holed up in his mancave
situated within Southeastern Pennsylvania.

"good morning" every morning
and a warm smile,
a wistful sigh sometimes

unsettlingly deep
sweetly intense
dark and gleaming brown eyes
looking toward me, for me
again and again and again

he said my smile was like
a spring morning

and i was afraid,
aggravatingly afraid

cold and bemused
careful blue eyes
looking away and away
and away