My work yesterday
I pursued with fire..
dead letters burned
letters with news
for countless intended
recipients Unknown..
news shadowed or light
these notifications of
paths NOT taken
met their end by
my flaming torch..
My role as destroyer
carried my reverie
ignited a wish
a blessing and curse
to finally know NOT..

My work today
new letters appear..
copying not burning
yet sorrows abide in
slow repetitive death..
I must rise
stand tall
Find face and soul
in that wall..
I must proclaim
I prefer NOT..
PREFER
this delicious word..
freedom's choice
tasted with short
bursts of joy..

Facing my wall
searching for NOT
into emptiness flowed
a bright wholeness
of  letters and light..
but a price to be paid
for other's disdain
they are forgiven for
not knowing NOT..
NOT holds those
letters I've known..
Ah humanity...*

Based on Herman Melville's
short story, "Bartleby
the Scrivener"

who doth like 2 gab a boot
i yam no goth thick ****** villain frum a no vile root
boot kin zee writer iz 4 re:al - here my hand there my lil shoot.

ma gray matter nada mess
of 50 shades of gray more o less
2 impress
than sentiments for female passion i metaphorically express.

this me stir wordsmith viz Bartleby the scrivener
   wordsmith doth sit alone
   playing knick knack paddy whack
   please give this dorky, goofy,
   loopy, moody, nerdy, quirky
   n wordy proto simian artfully dodging
   the erstwhile shadowy bogeyman
   more'n a herring or sun bleached wish bone
communication skills daily he doth hone
awaiting 2 convey an auditory
   familiar voice message on the telly phone.

   i readily admit not 2 be a dusty huffing marathon man
   using me phallus as a leg like runner
hoping said golem like creature will
   (upon my stern request) stay
   nor does this generic guy participate

   in any competitive reindeer games nor sports
   type son of a gunner
who knows life doth newt always go this way
which wood prompt to snag the eye
   of one tiger esse to roar with a yay.

this self anointed beastie boy bard of schwenksville, penna lives
   just a rolling stones away
   from u2 and you know moody blue who
felt avaricious, chivalrous, efficacious,

   impetuous, spontaneous view
especially with...a gal 4
   ma doo *** motley crue
2 be earnest, frank and true

n would be ambitious 2 ply
   my cognitive, furtive, intuitive
sans this salient knight thee ma sought
   after queen kin ponder n rue
computer technical challenges

   that might bring out bovine prompting a moo
maybe absorbing symbiotically genius abilities
   from one imaginary asian figure named hu
or his identical twin brother mister ma goo.

Mortal Mind Matthew Scott Harris
ENTER YOUR OWN RISK!

Seedy gobbledygook ergot
visibly argot bubbled, burbled, bustled...forth
yea...give garbled, jangled, warbled shoutout
if ye doth render
mug gadabout totally confounding,

this unfettered voluminous confection
ruff lee in toto as sample
doggone freelance gargon
sublime red rover - misaligned with
twenty first century time

emerging, fishtailing, kvetching,
slithering, whipsawing
during springtime
thaw - oozing out primordial slime,
schlepping aboard bissel mishuga train

while kibitizing with longfellow
ghost hosts Bartleby,
thee Herman Hermits,
and Stray Cats caterwauling
scrivener circumlocution showtime
evidences troubadour prima facie

tremendous struggle rustling rational rapport,
ruminating, citing his dismal schooltime
track record muddled, and hence
questing to cobble a rhyme
distilling, harvesting, and

leaching (out pulpy, knotty,
Max Headroom Ancien regime
filmy... gray matter) in realtime,
while strains of Ragtime echo
from late nineteenth century

tin pan alley, nsync, linkedin
cubist, dadaist, existentialist...
mine poetic melange jerry rigs
flashes random discordant phrases
kickstarting hotmail...faintly

analogous to processing quicklime
mucking with abstract alphabetic
mire ranks as playtime
forging whimsical tactical trippy thoughts,
nursing eternal idealistic Earthly peacetime,

worrying away looming mortality,
noshing post death as pastime,
welcomes input and alien abduction – ME,
mine "FAKE" existence, sans charade,
facade, masquerade onetime pantomime,
no second act allowed, nor

revising questionable tour de force
I claim NO pièce de résistance, nor overtime,
asper waning game
of thrown away Life
approaches nighttime haven

soon...forever rest in peace
surrendering requisite burnt offerings,
sans (cremated ashes) - meantime
fete grateful dead
scythe lent hoodlums on warpath

to incite bedlam
postprandial mealtime prayer final -
deathly hallowed gleeful grimace
witnessing successful electroshock therapy

of yours truly emotionally frozen
decades long comatose state
thankfully oblivious, when impending
curtain call signals finis!