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the wind is a Lady with
bright slender eyes(who

moves)at sunset
and who—touches—the
hills without any reason

(i have spoken with this
indubitable and green person “Are
You the Wind?” “Yes” “why do you touch flowers
as if they were unalive,as

if They were ideas?” “because,sir
things which in my mind blossom will
stumble beneath a clumsiest disguise,appear
capable of fragility and indecision

—do not suppose these
without any reason and otherwise
roses and mountains
different from the i am who wanders

imminently across the renewed world”
to me said the)wind being A lady in a green
dress,who;touches:the fields
(at sunset)
Rowan Deysel Mar 2016
Fresh from the kennels. A whole world away.  
Companion conversion for a young castaway.  
A darling of distraction with irrational fears.
The clumsiest canine with ever aware ears.
Guardian of gourmet. Suspect of all sounds.
He'll catch himself someday, spinning around.
A tug of war here. A muddy mess there.
A lick to the face of the humans in his care.
How thrilled his tail and tremendous his teeth.
How dug up the planet from paw underneath.
The running for fun. The claiming of trees.
The car window ride along - face full of breeze.

--------------------------------------------------------

But now he's a master of "Stay!".
His eagle ears succumbing to gravity's sway.
Napping much more, barking much less.
Now rarer the cuddle, the clean, the caress.
Patch protector. Owner of no debts.
A veteran of various villainous vets.
Birds as trivial as the tennis ball is far.
Eyes now as hazy as the indistinguishable stars.
A howl at the moon. A loosening tooth.
An ode to memories of a modest youth.
They still love this pup. He still loves them back.
May he long be remembered as he faces the black.
Alyssa Yu May 2016
breathe.
the clock slowly ticks down to end my twenty first year.
breathe.
i think i was expecting something a little more dramatic. loud music, flashing lights. at the very least a few friends beside me and a strong drink in hand.
breathe.
but maybe i don't need so much excitement anyway; i've had two full decades of it and it's been enough for a lifetime.
breathe.
in fact, i spent most of those years hoping that would be my entire lifetime,
so many times thinking i would die before this day
so many times desperately wishing i would die before this day.
breathe.
so maybe tonight's spectacle will just be the first breath i take to begin the rest of my life.
maybe it will be the fact that i choose to breathe at all.

...

breathe.
i am still here.
breathe.
i know now that wanting to die doesn't mean you hate life. and loving life doesn't mean you have to be scared of dying.

breathe.
i must keep reminding myself again and again that i am loved despite the fact that i'm alone on the couch with nothing but a blanket for company.
breathe.
the smiles of my friends flash before me one by one, loosening the knot in my chest.
breathe.
i know the planet is beautiful, but god, it cannot compare to the sound of my friends laughing, as if their joy were weightless. carefully, i stitch pieces of it into a patchwork umbrella for the next rainy day.
breathe.
i have looked love in the face and i am slowly thawing.

breathe.
i see again every time i fell on my face, every time i pushed someone else down trying to get up, every clenched fist and tightened jaw.
breathe.
i have had to fight too hard to get here. but i guess that really means i learned how to take punches and maybe throw one back every so often.
breathe.
my knuckles are constantly bruised and my skin scars too easily. i am not allowed to forget the hell i've dug my way out of, and i am thankful. it makes the sun feel a little warmer every morning.

breathe.
lately i've been speaking a little too quickly, tripping over words like the world's clumsiest track runner. there is too much going on in my head to keep up with my mouth.
breathe.
and is my voice too loud because people are complaining about how i can't whisper, also everyone else needs to talk so should i just stop now...
breathe.
...no, this is still a hundred times better than when i never spoke at all.

breathe.
i am learning how to gently fall asleep in an empty bed
breathe.
more importantly, i am learning not to call the bed empty when i'm already in it.

breathe.
it seems i have reached the age when my grade school self thought i'd be an adult with everything figured out. she is yet another person i have disappointed.
breathe.
still, i am slowly realizing that no one else really knows what they're doing either. and that's okay.
twenty one thoughts for twenty one years
Katie Miller May 2019
Clumsy Love

It was clumsy the day they first met

A hot day in New York City, photography at a baseball game, purple hair, and overpriced lemonade. There was a 15 year-old girl and her friend, and there was a slight fangirl moment when meeting a 17 year old boy who was famous school-wide for his singing and acting. There was an exchange of names, a photograph, and a friendship.

It was clumsy the second day, too.

Persistently bought coffee from the little round shop with way too many sugar packets, a misguided museum employee, too much root beer, and pigeons that were startled by the boy yelling “44!”

The third day was no less clumsy.

There was a broadway show in Shubert Alley, an unknown desire, and a sleepless night for the boy, though the girl remained ignorant of his new-found crush. If only the girl knew that a year from now, a promposal would be reenacted, a first kiss would be given and taken, and “I love you” would be said. If only the boy knew that his “immature” desire would be replaced with love, and passion, and, well, her. If only they knew what would happen in the next 365 days.

It was clumsy that one night in the pool.

A sticky, humid heat in the air, string lights hung over head, four friends swimming in the girls pool, stars in the sky, and the boy, throwing the girl into the pool simply because he could. The girl loved him then, though she wouldn’t allow herself to think about it, so they remained as they were: friends.

It was clumsy that day in Hershey Park.

There were sharp turn on the Wild Mouse, a stranger met and then lost again, and the boy, who kept telling the girl of other boys who were staring at her. Maybe it was his secret way of telling her that he thinks she’s beautiful, but she never knew.

It was clumsy in the movie theater.

There was crab rangoon and smuggled sushi, an 11:00 movie about superheroes, and a returned wish to hold a girl’s hand, though the girl, somehow, remained oblivious still.

It was clumsy in September and November.

There was a girl with a broken heart, betrayal from the friends from New York, a different boy who was never meant to be, and the boy who was meant to be, listening to every word, watching every tear, and slowly, unknowingly, fixing her heart. Through three hourlong video calls, text messages, and abandoned lunch periods he loved her still, though he remained the friend that he knew she needed.

It was clumsy in December.

There was a realization of how much he meant to her, a lot of poems, a revelation of jealousy of the girl who was flirting with him, and a lot of tears. There was a still 15 year old girl and a now 18 year old boy, and she allowed herself to fall, in the clumsiest way possible, into him.

If was clumsy on Valentine's day.

There was a singing Valentine, as well as one with a bad pun, there was a comparison to a sister, there was a"Crazy Little Thing Called Love" and there was a hug. A question was asked that day "Does he like her?", But was disregarded with a shrug "He said she was like a sister, so I guess not". It stung her her heart just a little, but she accepted the hit that was unintentionally given. And clumsily, once again, she laughed and smiled, after all, he and to her.

If was clumsy at the cabaret Cafe.

There was some pie and ice cream, a song sung to her, though she only wished he meant it that way, a slippery cafeteria for and tights, a confession, and two questions. The confession being to him, that she was happy to know him, a question to her, does she like him, to which she lied "no", and when the question was returned, the boy avoided an answer when the girl returned a question.

It was clumsy the Monday afterwards.

It was clumsy when he wouldn't meet her eyes. She still can't explain how much that hurt her, it stabbed at her heart and caught in her throat. After all: her best friend didn't even want to look at her. Her heart was slippery and clumsy as it sunk towards her stomach. There were tears during first period, and a text after school from the girl who apologized for lying because she liked him after all, and was too afraid of rejection to tell him before, yet no confirmation came from him.

It was clumsy on March 3rd.

There were poems, missing heart beats, and grammar mistakes. There was relief and there was fear. There was nervousness for the next day, knees shaking, heart racing as she turned every corner, waiting to see his face.

It was clumsy on March 16th.

When she fell to the ground. There are six pink roses, a stuffed turtle named Cleopatra, and a PowerPoint slide with a pun. There was an expectation he had wished to live up to and there was success. She fell to the ground and feel into his arms and they both cried of happiness and shock.

It was clumsy on March 18th.

There were silent cellos, empty risers, a dark room and racing heartbeats. There were seven kisses before saying goodbye, they were her first. There were two definitions of perfect, coincidentally, there were also two names. There was a broken water bottle and a boy in a parking lot. There was a girl, now sixteen, and a boy, now eighteen, and they were talking in love in the dark.

It was clumsy on April 3rd.

There was a stairwell, a thought, a confession, and an "I love you" returned in the same breath of air held between them.

It was clumsy in the hammock.

There was an unbalanced swaying, a list of questions and answers, and a metaphor about falling.

It was clumsy at lunch.

There was an attempted hug, an accidental tackle, and a girl who tripped over her own feet.

It was clumsy yesterday, it is clumsy today, and it will be clumsy tomorrow.

There was New York City, coffee, Broadway in Shubert Alley, root beer, Hershey Park and movie theaters. There was a broken heart, video calls, realizations, poems, songs, and apple pie with ice cream. There were grammar mistakes, pink roses, turtles, teddy bears, silent cellos, risers, absent heartbeats, and stairwells. There was love unreturned from fear of rejection born from the roots of doubt. And then, there was love, and memories, and secrets. And they became them, and "us" was their new favorite word.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2016
i've become as lazy as composers
when writing titles,
example of tautology is as lazy
as beethoven's ninth symphony...
yeah, grand... but what a dull title!*

so i was reading this article
about bim adewunmi
about the singer laura mvula...
and you know how it goes...
leftist liberals tend to write
tautological spaghetti,
likened to bim's example:
'short-haired, dark-skinned
black girl', bim, we get it...
could have said rancid cinnamon
for all i care...
tautology is a logic of adding
more salt than the salt required
so it doesn't taste too salty when it
does... i could also proof-read
other journalists...
restaurant critics are the best laughs,
esp. when reshuffled like
a ****** cabinet of the labour party
to the opinion columns...
then it's not called opinions section
but table talk... a bit like saying:
do i woo the sea back into this oyster
before i gulp-down-the-hatch-it?
well what do you expect,
free democracy and subsequently
free journalism has a judas kiss /
brutus stab at everything,
why not laugh at it as a useless
get up in the morning read a newspaper
be pulverised by stories from kingdoms
far far away and opinions of people
who'd send ******* dubbed
soldiers off to the slaughter fields of Flanders
so they can keep erectile egos ready
for a salary readied...
journalists always divert the heat & fire
to the politicians... while
journalists get away with satirising themselves,
and i dare say, they are the clumsiest
satirists of themselves,
the most wonky ready to dismantle itself
noumenons in existence.
- journalist: huh?
- the public - (elvis') aha uh um (frolicking
without the stiff upper lip).
starless May 2014
clumsily, I fall -
whether it be in or
out of love with you.
similar to how
I bring accidental pain
upon myself, simply
from knocking
my knee on something
solid. clumsily,
I trip over my own
footsteps. I know not
my destination, or
what I'll do upon arrival.

clumsily, I allow
myself to create pathetic
fancies. stupidly,
I give you the power
to inflict
bitter pain upon me.
me, the clumsiest girl
you'll ever know,
who'd be
glad for whichever marks
etched upon her skin,
by you.
coffee shop scribbles
AnnaMarie Jenema Jan 2015
Isn't a ballerina supposed to be graceful, dainty, and special?
Isn't their something gorgeous in her steps?
Even a jazz dancer has beauty,
Dance is grace,
dance is beauty,
all wrapped into movement,
I am a dancer;
I've taken ballet and jazz,
I love to dance,
but ...
I'm a dancer you can't trust around glass or fragile trinkets,
A dancer who crashes into tables and chairs,
a dancer whose very name means grace,
but when the curtains are closed and the dance has ended;
I'm the clumsiest girl you will probably ever meet.
Keith Ren Jan 2011
The fearless instraction.
The love of things, willow.
The newness of strings in a row.

A topic injusted,
A fated carnation.
Lapelled in your silkiest glow.

I want you not nearly.
Horizoning sunburst.
You're the fewest that I'll ever know.

I'll meet you on morrows.
With clumsiest wordings.
You're the seeds that I've not seen to sow.
annh Sep 2019
Dream your life in watercolours,
Live your life in oils,
Frame your canvases with time and distance;

Hang each by a silver thread,
In a windowed gallery of memories,
Exhibit often and without discrimination;

Celebrate the beauty in your clumsiest brushwork,
Accept the imperfections in your mastery,
Reshape your truths, as light plays and colour transforms.

‘If you ask me what I came to do in this world, I, an artist, will answer you: I am here to live out loud.‘
- Émile Zola
Påłpëbŕå Oct 2020
He's not strong nor is he tall,
He's not the typical 'man' you call.
He's not built up, nor is he cool,
Maybe he's the quietest in the school.

He's not good at academics,
And often has dates with paramedics.
He's the clumsiest of all.
Maybe he'll never be the guy for whom you'll fall.

He's not that talented nor has any gifts,
A complete misfit!
He's slow and steady but never wins a race!
Maybe he's totally a gone case.

He's not so many things,
Which back brings;
My idea of writing about him,
Even though he's not the hero of my film.

You wonder why?
I'm so fixated on this guy;
Because after all the things he's not,
He still smiles and takes all the shots.
He isn't 'the love at first sight'
But a slow burn that makes my life bright.
He is different, I guess.
An open jar of happiness.
He's got nothing to impress;
Yet so much to express!

He is not attractive; but radioactive!
A radioactive substance only knows emission. He only knows how to give- love, life and meaning to my existence!

Maybe I'll never love you as a lover,
Maybe I'll use you when I'll suffer.
But one thing is for sure,
You will have a place in my heart secure!
[M]
Taite A Feb 2011
what if you were the architect
and i was just the dreamer, dissociative,
passing seamlessly through the clumsiest portions
of someone’s mind

and we were both cubists
kissing ourselves when we were
supposed to be in love

the confusion came easily when i
in your eyes was no different from you
and a talk was the same as a touch

if you were standing in my way i
could always step around you and thus
be right back where i started with my hands
always on my own throat, always
Ira Desmond Sep 2020
We know that to look now would set us ablaze,
the projectionist has loaded up the next reel,
but still we can’t seem to avert our gaze.

The clumsiest cinema still often sways.
The sound may be garbled, the edits piecemeal,
but we know that to look would still set us ablaze.

We question ourselves as the velvet drapes raise—
the playhouse itself thus begets our ordeal—
but still we can’t seem to avert our gaze.

The schoolmarms all warned us against such forays,
having seen how the real sinks into the surreal.
Yes, we know that to look now will set us ablaze.

Now the actors all shout patriotic clichés,
and we balk at the film’s jingo-populist zeal,
Even still, we can’t seem to avert our gaze.

Transfixed by tricolor and beset with malaise,
but what truths did Lot’s wife’s noncompliance reveal?
For we know that to look now will set us ablaze,
but still we can’t seem to avert our gaze.
GfS Jun 2015
If you thought you've met the clumsiest girl
you still haven't met her

No one can be as clumsy as her
because no one else had
accidental sprains
accidental bruises
accidental bumps
accidental cuts
like she had

You'd wonder why she's so clumsy
because every moment you'd see her
she has a new story that comes with a new injury
and everytime she'd talk about it
you'd see the perfect mixture of
giggly, embarrased, and happy
all at the same time

She'd smile and laugh about it
and you'd be there listening
being the perfect mixture of
worried, frustrated, and happy
all at the same time

You'd wonder at her wonderous nature
of how to smile when the injury hurts
Oh, how you'd wish
that you could be there
to tell her off and pick her up
wrap up her bruises
wipe of her tears
but thing is she won't let you
all you could do is
silently wail with her
for all she ever did was smile
I learned to wait through the storm
She learned to dance in the rain
Sirenes Apr 2015
It's gym class
Laughter fills the space
Test Artistic Gymnastics today
The long ocean blue mat
Streched across the floor
Either you got it or you don't

Elisabeth, the clumsiest
Sweetest girl I know
Bright and kind
Easy to influence
A little shy...
Mischief is my middle name

She runs towards the middle
I wait and analyse
Her slender body arches forward
A moment before her hands
Touch the ocean blue mat
Preparing to place her weight on them...

"WATER!!!"
Distracted she loses balance
Now laying flat on the ground
She screams at me
I laugh and run off
Persued by a D-
Adelaide London Jun 2017
They say
it takes skill
to wield a knife

you have to hold it right
at the right angle
in the right way
at the right time

But you,
I doubted that you had practice
You had,
the clumsiest hands I would ever know.

But when the time came,
-like an expert-
you wedged that knife
into my very soul
Yenson Mar 2022
Too much of anything
becomes  
too much of nothing
a vast
ocean fades into an horizon
constancies
become drowned inconstancy
as white fades
to pale only to ghost into transparency
that is there
yet not altogether there in the blackground
crystalline sand
holds trillions miniscule dazzling glass silicones
yet enmassed
they are nothing but dry arid sands to be walked over
many can a times
be too much to matter or given second look or thoughts
V Jan 2018
i don’t know what to do, love. i wish there was something i could do to help me bare with the heaviness of your absence. as hard as it is, i’ve come to realize that i need you here. i need to hear the sound of your laugh. i need to gaze into your brown eyes one more time. i need to stare at you doing such ordinary things, like watching your favorite show or having your favorite dish. i need to hear you talk about university or state your opinion on a movie or documentary. i need to feel that ache in my stomach from cracking up at your jokes and watching you do the clumsiest things to make me laugh. i need you to try to throw me off bed and feed me in public when i’m not looking just because you know it embarrasses me. i need you to pose anywhere and take endless pictures of us. i need you to introduce me to your mom one more time. i need you to smile again when she asks about me. i need you to get frustrated with me but still call me by my name so i know i haven’t lost you forever. i need you to randomly call me when your friends are around. i need you to ask me one more time why i want to hang up. i need you to listen as i tell you the things i could never say to anyone else. i need you to get under my skin, to **** me off like no one else. i need you to make me feel as comfortable as i felt the first night we met. i need you to put my mind at ease. i need you to fight for me one more time. i need you to discuss the most random topics with me. i need you to share your writings one more time. i need you to lay with me while we listen to our favorite songs, just one more time. i need you to give me that rush, to send shivers down my spine, to make me feel like my heart is about to drop, just one more time. as pathetic as it sounds, i need you here. but i know for a fact, that you don’t need me. and i don’t need the heartache of knowing that you don’t feel the same way i do.

so stay safe, love. i need you to be strong, love. i need you to admire every sunset you come across. i need you to blast your favorite songs and cruise around the city. I need you to wear your heart on your sleeve without worrying about the whole world looking. i need you to finish reading the book i gave you. i need you to keep those two bracelets. i need you to work ******* achieving your goals. i need you to make the best out of your life because every second counts. i need you to smile softly. i need you to fall in love with someone who’s willing to give you more than you deserve, because you deserve the world and should only settle for someone who can offer you an entire multiverse. i need you to talk about your feelings. i need you to value yourself and stand your ground. i need you to recommend the Breadwinner series to as many people as you can. i need you to listen to Location one more time. i need you to sing along to it, just one more time. i need you to go on with your life and i need you to be happy, even if that happiness doesn’t include me. i need you to belong to the horizon and the night sky and the stars, because you could never belong to me.


yours truly,
S.B.
(now a penchant with less Zionist trenchant ululation to vent.)
Not a peep passed thru mine -
aye vaguely attest
what ten? eleven? twelve? age
of following anecdote at best
guest, but no
doubt yours truly
with figurative heart in chest
scared puny meek boy

tight lipped silently confessed
to foiled attempt, sans trying
unsuccessfully to steal a yoyo,
     inviting tummy prepubescent
unbuttoning, a substantially
sprawling Holy skype sizing breast
of mine upon be nabbed,
thus aye didst detest

foolish kid ploy, and
(prematurely nipping
in the bud) messed
up potential life of crime
with first and only
shoplifting heist jest
for getting caught no a pest
key yoyo, mama would

     (IF FOUND OUT)
axe me no quest
chin, but whack me itty bitty
teensy weensy derriere lest
quickly putting to rest
any Robin Hood
fantasy life of
high stakes crime pressed,

and squeezed out the noggin
with apropos punishment addressed
thankfully, neither parent
got wind, nor ever guessed
their beautiful darling
     boy did test
petty theft, never
matured nor didst crest

into a profitable "yoyo
string Ponzi like
     scheme," thus ballsiest
dare devilish and bitterest,
and laughably noble lest
act yours truly ever attempted
immediately ceased to shelve bravest
sleight of hand find

delve during broad est
daylight, I immediately
didst shelve, when clumsiest
initial foray into
the world wide web
tubby come cleverest
lad, this side of
     Lansdale, Pennsylvania

     many damnedest
yesterdays ago, never
took another earnest
tempting gamble since security
detail nearly wrest
head possible zapped feeblest Ames?

to pilfer from other
Department stores if pressed
for money no matter,
I might miss an enforced
hated ballet class,
     with abs salute zest!
Now scores of years
after botched minor theft penchant
courtesy security guard
analogous to inquisitorial trenchant
unforgettable verbal lashing
(suppressing me ululation to vent)
unwittingly arresting snitch behavior
plus potential life of crime.

Not a peep passed thru
pursed lip o' mine -
aye vaguely attest
what age ten? eleven? twelve?
of following anecdote at best
educated guess, but no
doubt yours truly
with figurative heart in chest
scared sh__less puny meek boy
tight lipped silently confessed

to foiled attempt, sans trying
unsuccessfully to steal a yoyo,
during Saturday's short break
between gymnastic class
inviting tummy prepubescent
diminutive self unbuttoning
outer garment to stash loot,
revealing substantially sprawling
holy skype size bare breast,
after officer verbally rifled me

said mean security detail
demanding I undress
impossible mission to escape
upon being nabbed,
held me arms tight,
cuz yours truly
ain't no Artful Dodger  
thus aye didst detest
foolish kid ploy, and
(prematurely nipping

in the bud) messed
up potential life of crime
with first and only
shoplifting heist jest
for getting caught no a pest
key yoyo, mama would
(IF ever mama or papa FOUND OUT)
they would axe me no quest
chin, but whack me itty bitty
teensy weensy derriere lest

quickly putting to rest
any Robin Hood
fantasy life of riding crest
to get rich quick scheme
high stakes crime pressed,
and squeezed out the noggin
with apropos punishment addressed
thankfully, neither parent
got wind, nor ever guessed
their beautiful darling

little boy did flunk
electric kool aid acid test
petty theft, never
matured nor ever again did zest
proliferate to ****** unpaid for goods
into a profitable "yoyo
string Ponzi like
scheme," thus ballsiest
dare devilish and bitterest,
and laughably noblest

act yours truly ever attempted
immediately ceased to shelve bravest
sleight of hand find
delve during broadest
daylight, I immediately
didst abandon, when clumsiest
initial foray into
the world wide web
tubby come cleverest
lad, this side of

Lansdale, Pennsylvania
many damnedest
yesterdays ago, never
took another earnest
tempting gamble since security
detail nearly wrest
head possible zapped feeblest Ames?
to pilfer from other
Department stores if pressed
for money no matter,
I might miss an enforced
hated ballet class,
with abs salute zest
worse fate than juvenile detention!
Potential life of as juvenile delinquent
(ala bam mean future streetwise ****)
stopped dead in the tracks – manacles
the above two lines hopefully gives hint
nearly changing changing life of one boy
an undersized puny kid
whose aborted theft stint
constitutes the gist of following poem.

Now scores of years
after botched minor theft penchant
courtesy security guard
analogous to inquisitorial trenchant
unforgettable verbal lashing
(suppressing me ululation to vent)
unwittingly arresting snitch behavior
plus potential life
of crime and punishment.

Not a peep passed thru
pursed lip o' mine -
aye vaguely attest
what age ten? eleven? twelve?
of following anecdote at best
educated guess, but no
doubt yours truly
with figurative heart in chest
scared sh__less puny meek boy
tight lipped silently confessed

to foiled attempt, sans trying
unsuccessfully to steal a yoyo,
during Saturday's short break
between gymnastic class
at Lansdale YMCA
(long since razed)
inviting tummy prepubescent
diminutive self unbuttoning
outer garment to stash loot,
revealing substantially sprawling

holy skype size bare breast,
after officer verbally rifled me
said mean security detail
demanding I undress
impossible mission to escape
upon being nabbed,
held me arms tight,
cuz yours truly
ain't no Artful Dodger  
thus aye didst detest

foolish kid ploy, and
(prematurely nipping
in the bud) messed
up potential life of crime
with first and only
shoplifting heist jest
for getting caught no a pest
key yoyo, mama would
(IF ever mama
or papa FOUND OUT)

they would axe me no quest
chin, but whack me itty bitty
teensy weensy derriere lest
quickly putting to rest
any Robin Hood
fantasy life of riding crest
to get rich quick scheme
high stakes crime pressed,
and squeezed out the noggin
with apropos punishment addressed

thankfully, neither parent
got wind, nor ever guessed
their beautiful darling
little boy did flunk
electric kool aid acid test
petty theft, never
matured nor ever again did zest
proliferate to ****** unpaid for goods
into a profitable "yoyo
string Ponzi like

scheme," thus ballsiest
dare devilish and bitterest,
and laughably noblest
act yours truly ever attempted
immediately ceased to shelve bravest
sleight of hand find
delve during broad
daylight, I immediately
didst abandon, when clumsiest
initial foray into

the world wide web
tubby come cleverest
lad, as iterated above this side of
Lansdale, Pennsylvania
many damnedest
yesterdays ago, never
took another earnest
tempting gamble since security
detail nearly wrest
head possible zapped feeblest Ames?

grilled, interrogated, lambasted me
immediately squelched
further misdemeanors
to pilfer from other
Department stores if pressed
for money no matter,
I might miss an enforced
hated ballet class,
with abs salute zest
worse fate than juvenile detention!

A long overdue belated thank you
to the intimidating man in blue
keeping yours truly on path
lawfully being straight and true.

— The End —