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Nat Lipstadt Mar 2018
flying over Harrisburg (Seat 8C)*

transcontinental traveller this day,
from a city island onwards to a city by the bay,
the mileage sum greater than a lifetime of M31 bus trips,
but the in-transit poem-notion-potion elixir in blood stirring,
when a seated poet greets the jet stream
motion turbulence
,
one more rightful writ to the
flying poem chapter,
additive motivated and self-commandeered

airborne in the selfsame real clouds
where the poems are plucked from,
their distance to my body’s poem functions,
vastly abbreviated so they arrive more wet, chilled and urgent,
we become heated tango paired

already approaching Indiana, crossing Ohio,
over whose living souls have I traversed,
over whose stored poems have I flown through,
ruffling their crinkled white wrapper covers, the decorative ribbons,
whose hand waves have I discerned,
and whose cheeks have I gently kissed?

this land is my land, this land is our land,
and from the soft cream of moisture white,
stumbled on my long lost and well forgotten poems, thereby
freshly creasing and dampening yellowings
with the renewable tears when greeting old friends
of the who and when poetry was a secret garden
where I hid and withdrew and transpired the essential oils
of my deconstructed constitution

see this poem is more me just checking in on you below,
you up ahead, and those in arreared reared view mirror,
and on me, composing at an altitude of 31,824 feet to
strings of violins, my one true plane

as compensator for this ramble unfocused I gift you this:

conscripted by the thin atmosphere,
constricted by my failings, my limited stock of words,
my extra clouded judgement, my heartbeats rapido speak,
telling me to tell you my brothers, my sisters,
mine own adapted children,
we have never been closer than we are today,
until that day I knock and grinningly embrace and erase
that tiny space between our ******* and in unison breathe*

8:50am EST entente
entering into Illinois
Ayeshah Mar 2010
(Readers I been going crazy to write  like this for a long time so if it suxs  too bad lol please read its a bit long also 4 those who do ty for reading & commenting)
________________­_______________
She seen his stares since earlier in the ball room & during most of their acquaintance's growing up also when he'd visited her family at her home in Hampshire... She bluntly ignored his many advances while
at the Queen's Ball and she also publicly shunned him in front of  many aristocrats, He asked her even then to be his wife, She flat out said NO! with out going through the proper channels it  "*******" just wasn't done,  Her chaperon Lady Gideon was no where to be found so she did what she thought was best and walked away from him as fast as her small frame would allow.  

She did indeed find Lady Gideon in the kitchens with  the cook in the "Blimey!" broom closet. NOW on this night she'd truly become his and pay for her misdeeds & mistreatment's of him at The Queen's Ball...Duke Lincoln Pierre held his new bride Virgina Abagael Pierre  
tightly as he assaulted her mouth thrusting his tongue in her mouth- parting her lips in a seductive dance, as his hands moved lavishly up & down her buttocks, betwixt her bodice caressing her breast.

Lincoln tried hard to control his need for his new bride,  He was supposed  to be with his "mates" for another hour or so whilst his-  " well now" his wife's maids readied her for their marriage bed.
Lincoln couldn't wait & as he rushed his guest out the door not even
waiting for Jefferey his Butler to do so, He ran taking the steps two at a time, His need for Virgina was more then lust.  He wanted her ever since she shunned him at the Queens ball & as he visited her home--  watching her bloom into womanhood, Tonight she'd pay for his humiliations of that night at the Ball. He burst open the door and bellowed  for the maids to Get OUT!

At once they went running like rats. All except Beatrix stood her
ground and told him in not to kind-of words that  "She" had to prepare Virgina properly and He was acting reckless.
Beatrix  was his nanny & nursery maid, she was  also there when he first open his sparkling  hazel round eyes, God rest "Duckies" soul, His mum, she died in this same bed whilst she gave her last breath for this handsome devil.  His Da,  poor man was getting on in age and this was a wish he left in his will to be fulfilled before he died. "Lin" as she'd called him must fulfill but without scaring the poor chit off.

She unfasten Virgina's stays & hooks as fast as her old hands would allow, before she could help her out of her bodice  "Lin" ushered her out....Well she'd said her peace and exit Lincoln's rooms praying as she left.....
Lincoln kept  up his assault  while Virgina had a look of fear & misunderstanding in her mahogany sapphire eyes, Her small frame was shaking to her very core,  Poor chit but it couldn't be helped he was in a rush to be done with virgins and their silly concepts of love ex specially this "his" new prudent bride,  Yet he wanted to make her come alive, bring out the "bleed'in devil" of lust he knew was trapped deep within Virgina's un tapped core.
Lincoln teased and licked as he removed her clothing, ripping a bit of fabric in is haste, she kissed him back! Shocking his own sense of sensibility.

He picked her up splayed her on the bed and stared at her dark luscious Honey chocolate  creamy coco skin, it shined like a lovely indigo ocean on a summers night.
With carious longing and dread,
it was still an interesting moment Virgina didn't know what to do and as he capture her waist she felt  even more unsure, sensing a thrilling sensation wash over her,  Her new husband Duke Lincoln Pierre kissed her with un-abandon lust Virgina instinctively crawled up to the head board on the bed, as she did so her new husband reached for her in a blink of an eye she was caught in his steel grip, she cried out not for pain but because she had no ideal what he meant to do with her,

Lincoln laughed and made a tsk tsk sound as he pulled himself atop of Virgina.  "My Lady I beseech you please leave off I mean you no harm''
Lincoln proclaimed yet his meek smile said he was lying,
Virgina only stared with her mouth gaped in a perfect lush O shape.  
Her husband undone he own clothes  in a heated rush.  
Once done he stalked towards her kneeling on the bed.  
With Virgina's gaze fixed tranquilly on his stiff shaft, she looked at it apprehensively  she wanted to move away yet her limbs wouldn't allow her to and with banned tears threatening to over flow
she ****** in her breath as her capture Duke Pierre her husband climb a top of her.  

Little did her husband know she'd wanted  him all her life she longed to become his bride but she had no ideal it entailed this rough treatment of her person to gain access.
She'd sit with her own nanny "Liv" short for Olivia  
at Hyde Park watching as his carriage made it's rounds.  She dreamed even then to marry him, his eyes always laughing and He was forever teasing her when He'd visited  her "now" deceased parents lord Duke&Duchess; Harrisburg. She'd dream he were always saving her from dragons and evil villains.

But tonight he seemed the Villain.
As he touched creatively over her she felt flushed, his hands trailed down to her hairline where her tulip was hidden as he proceeded to caress her he felt for her budded rosebud playing teasing  rubbing his fingers with gentleness over her.
He continued until Virgina's head was thrashing wildly left & right on the pillow she was scared and shocked not knowing what was coming over her,  she wanted something--   this need that was growing  building within her, she didn't understand and it made her feel weak with a longing she couldn't comprehend, as he removed his finger & hand a light yet cool breeze cam through the cracked window causing the sensation to slowly subside Lincoln moved down trailing kisses as he went his mouth hovered mere inches above her tight yearning rosebud he bet down and tasted honey as he licked in an out of his new bride, sliding his index finger within her tight silt wile wrapping his mouth around her budding rose, he ******, gently  causing Virgina automatically to lift her legs wrapping her hands in his golden brown hair.

He felt her throbbing shaking and he wanted to laugh because of him she now new what it meant to be pleasured,  Virgina began trembling with a urgency not knowing what her body wanted just that she liked this feeling that washed over her from her toes up to her Honey dark coco head.  Her long brown auburn hair fell in waves of curls around her as she melted to her husbands ministrations.

Lincoln could barely contain his want and in his eyes His new bride was a wanton ready for plucking like a ripe strawberry, His little filly was bucking beneath his demonstration's.
He'd played with the God's wile tempting the devil & now there was Hell to pay...  Sadly for his new ****** bride he could no longer hold back, he wanted to consume her, his control was failing, wreaking havoc on his now intoxicating senses.  

Virgina bucked up towards his mouth letting out a seductive cry breaking Lincoln's last restraints  
He spread her wide held her fast
both his hand on either side of her hips as he lead his shaft within her lustrous wet inviting opening, moving in her swiftly as to not cause any more unnecessary pain,
He felt her maiden-head give way but it was to late t pause, he try not to move slow,
which with half in sympathy he wanted to stop his penetrating ****** yet his need for release in his new ****** brides velvet tight silt kept him urging forward deeper&deeper; within her tight walls.

Virgina let out a piercing scream as she also called out Lincoln's name twas an interesting moment when a fierce jolt consumed both occupants of this lovers den, she cried out as he ******'ed deeper still within his new bride....

No longer did he want to  punish her he felt something chip away at his heart releasing a need to want more then her body as they coiled becoming meshed together in legs & limbs traveling on waves of ******* bliss.
Duke & Duchess Pierre

Always Me Ayeshah
Copyright ©
Ayeshah K.C.L.N 1977-Present YEAR(s)
All right reserved
She wears my military
Issue jacket into the cold.

We stalk the empty platform.
Our breath trails behind us,
Like the smoke of a locomotive.

She wants to travel in shadows
Beneath a veil of frost.

I want to give her the diamond
My former fiancé left me.

But I would feel like a conductor
Returning a ticket stub, proclaiming
I am a passenger without my own momentum.

We trudge through the snow
And board the late train to Harrisburg.
I incinerate the love left in my heart.

One day I will wake up and
She will tell me it’s spring.
preservationman Jun 2015
It was June 6, 2015
This was a bus trip that convened
As I go along, you will see what I mean
It was the Metropolitan New York Bus Association Event
From New York City to Pennsylvania we went
We stopped in Lebanon, PA for a bus pulse stop
Timing couldn’t have been just right as seeing the buses kept our hearts functioning tops
Later, it was journey on to the Museum of Bus Transportation and the Spring Fling
However being a bus enthusiast was a good thing
There were all kinds of bus models for sure
Yet, there was plenty to explore
Viewed the Silver Eagle Continental Trailways, Golden Eagle also of Continental trailways, MC6 Motorhome Supercruiser and much more
Let the exploration go on
After that, we moved to the Annex, which was a drive away
There was a lot with more buses to see
There was the MC8 Peter Pan bus, MC9 Bonanza Bus Lines and who could forget a Capitol Trailways Buick car that travelled from Pottsville, Pinegrove and Harrisburg, Pennsylvania
Before buses hit the road, they started as a car in buses begin
Things started to change from when
Yet stagecoaches were put to an end
The only thing about that, your **** got sore and the pain you just couldn’t ignore
Being a bus nut s we hobbyist are called
We are the bus industry preservationist, and the buses we stand for all
Now I added 2 new buses to my large vast models collection
Buses are more than just over the road, they captured my heart in their behold
This is my own personal vibe being never told
I am being honest and bold
Buses have been my passion since the years of my birth
They will remain with me until my death on this Earth
Bus models have changed over the years
This is why I still preserver
Buses from past have become my memory that shall last
Museum’s capturing buses in still, but being determined has become my will.
Meagan Berry Jul 2011
“Just write,” they told me.  And I did.
My smooth cursive running over
each ****** page.
I wrote run-on sentences
without any punctuation that ran on for days without
a single breath of air and when I finished
I spleled wrods wrnog
and didn’t even try to fix them.

Then I began to write about you,
and no matter how hard I tried to stop,
the words flowed out of me
like they were meant to be on paper all along.

I wrote of the time you dragged me to your beach house
on Long Island
even though I was sick and miserable.  
You lay in bed with me all weekend until finally
I made it out to the beach.  
I went home sicker and redder than I had been before.
But you loved me anyway.  

I wrote of the time when we tried to drive across the country,
but we got bored somewhere around Harrisburg.  
Aunt Jay’s Pancake House made the trip worthwhile.  
I can still taste your buttery pancakes and
my gooey French toast on my lips.  
I wish we could go back there just one more time.

I wrote of the day you said goodbye-
the first time that is.
I didn’t get out of bed for three weeks,
you know,
wondering why you even called to see if I was ok.
When I finally pulled myself up and out
of the stuffy, black room
I was surprised the sun was still rising
and the world was continuing on without
us.

I wrote of the day you said goodbye-
the second time.
You didn’t call this time
or write
or give one sign that you were hurting so badly.
I could have fixed you.
I could have loved your pain away.

“Just write,” they told me, “And all of your pain will disappear.”
They don’t understand, though.
I’m not worried about my pain.
I want to go back and write away yours.
It was good that the viceroy was at the palace in audience with the queen. This soak is what she needed. Her lower back, just above the crack-of-itchy, felt romantical. She now hoped that the viceroy would return shortly to give her "the once over." Suddenly, like a motorcycle coming out of nowhere, José the gardener entered the bathroom. "Madre," he began, "I beg Jew problem."
   "Oh, slide in," Paula said, feigning anger.
   "And my brother? He too?"
   "Oh, alright."
   With the 3 of them soaping up there wasn't room for the viceroy should he arrive home ahead of schedule.
   "Here ease Carmen," José's brother said, and sure enough there was Carmen **** and in the process of draping herself across Paula's dreamy-creamy, parted thighs.
   "Carmen, are you pregnant?" Paula asked.
   "Jess mum," she giggled. "Jew ties are berry **** mum."
   "Here," the gardener said to Paula, "let me feel you up a lot."
  Paula stretched out, the best that she could, for a Mexican *****. "Berry goo," she teased while the soapy water flooded her love tunnel. "Jew ease juice watt I needed," she moaned as José took liberties upon her like he was Erik Estrada standing amidst the grandeur that was "California Pines.”
   "What's this?!" The viceroy exclaimed as he jumped suddenly into the bathtub like a motorcycle coming out of nowhere.
   "Berry sore he," Carmen said. "I go."
  "Please don't go," the viceroy whined more affectionately than would a dog catcher with gonorrhea, "till I've sluiced your crack!"
preservationman Jun 2017
It was buses you don’t see around anymore
The date was June 3 at the Museum Of Bus Transportation where one can forever explore
Fishbowls that once dominated City Streets
Summer heat with air conditioning aboard no one could beat
What do I-78, 80 and 95 have in common?
Highway buses of many kinds
Capitol Trailways GM PD-4104 AND 4106, Greyhound buses which still do today and the list goes on and on.
However, I want to make a special announcement of the GM PD-4501 Scenicruiser being the most famous of the Greyhound bus family and among other Motor Coach Carriers
School buses of the past
The name Thomas buses that will last
All the buses were all parked with bus company names of who could forget
Continental Trailways with the Beige Tan and red being the Silver Eagle
There was a Flea Market Spring Fling comprising of buses among buses along with many other memorabilia
There were stops along the way such as Harrisburg, York, Hershey, Pennsylvania visiting Transit hubs
We ate dinner at Shady Maples Smorgasbord in East Earl, Pennsylvania
Buses being still around, but they are vintage being museum bound.
sunprincess Feb 2018
Dear Poets and Readers

This poem page will be dedicated
to our men and women in Blue
To those who have given their life
for me and you

These are only a few of our fallen

★ Heroes ★

Castle Rock, Co
Deputy Zackari Parrish - 29
December  31, 2017

Harrisburg, PA
US Marshall Christopher Hill - 45
January 18, 2018

Brighton, Co
Deputy Heath Gumm - 32
January 24, 2018

Colorado  Springs, Co
Deputy Micah Flick - 34
February 5, 2018

Locust Grove, Ga
Officer Chase Maddox - 26
February 9, 2018

Westerville, OH
2 officers shot in the line of duty
February 10, 2018

Chicago, IL
Commander Paul R. Bauer
February 13, 2018

Mobile, Al
Officer Justin Billa
February 20, 2018

These officers were true heroes
So very sad they are gone,
And now we are left to carry on
Without them
Many prayers and thoughts for their families
and friends
Dave Hardin Sep 2016
Rocks

I threw them for no reason
Other than Old Harrisburg Road
Ran thick with crushed limestone
Inexhaustible at a languid pace
But finite as my patience with the pious
When I threw them fast and furious
At the window lights of the old school house
Or poor cousin Reesy
Out of plain spite
Rage cupped
In the palm of my hand
Fired sidearm with topspin
Until my arm ached
All those sharp edged consonants
Nuggets of vowels
From ancient pages of seabed
I threw them for no reason
Other than mindless thrill
Heedless of the crunch of words
Beneath the wheels of the morning milk truck.
My guns & my bullets belong to me because I paid for them with the money that I earned from selling my labor.
   Class of 1979 aristocratic débutante Pauliniqué de Daphne von Harrisburg's gynecologistical problems, based on anomalous-disruptor-cell displacement readings, were nothing new to gold-mining gynecologists & she knew it. Appointments made were kept by this professional who professionally serviced 15 snake-wrangling plumbers. Someone tonight is digging up evidence, in the Baby Land section of Greene County's most-poorly-lit cemetery, to bolster the allopathically-marketed commandment that intradermally-introduced aluminum, formaldehyde, rabbit blood, pig serum & mercurial Thimerosal are double-plus good for infants whose immune systems are sustained with iron-fortified Similac.
Kurt Philip Behm Mar 2018
I was twenty,
  and you were nineteen
  that day along the mall

When I heard a guitar
  from deep inside
  that round auditorium hall

Up on stage with legends
  Son House, Muddy,
  Johnny Winter too

A red haired, freckle faced,
  blue eyed girl
  commenced to sing the blues

You started with an apology
  saying you were outclassed
  and over matched

But once that voice
  left your heart and flew
   ….in nothing did you lack

I followed you out
  that afternoon
  in the late State College Fall

And after fifty years of looking back
  every moment
  I recall

I walked you to the bus
  as you said:
  “We’re in Harrisburg tonight

“Why don’t you come,
   it might be fun
   from there I catch a flight”

The bus was full,
  my eyes looked south
  as I hitchhiked down #322

Fate unexplained
  life forever changed
   —that special gift from you

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)
An excerpt taken from a lengthy tome,
written courtesy a favorite poet of mine.

Paraskevidekatriaphobia  struck within a blink,
I swear yours truly never took a drink,
nevertheless he witnessed
and falsely accused of being a rat fink,
when everything but the kitchen sink
instantaneously disappeared in a wink.

A quick moving flava flav lava flow
quickly rapped (like a snoop doggy dog tune),
swept, and twittered predominantly
(this only the beginning phase
of Armageddon clobbering debacle),
where nature nymphs, sprites, trolls, et cetera)
decked out with tartan kilted
Scottish residents comprising
the moral majority population
within bucolic community of Harrisburg,
(yes the same place name and Das Capital
of Pennsylvania) before swallowing
(as an itty bitty, teensy weensy
hors d oeuvre), a healthy
barley noticed portion of planet Earth.

Faster than a speeding bullet
lubricated with greased lightning,
and one rather extremely uncommon phenomena,
the devastating, instantaneous,
and outrageous volcanic activity,
(that forged the Allegheny Mountains)
unexpectedly goose-stepped,
doggedly catapulted back to life
after a bajillion years of dormancy
entombing, hotly freezing (in perpetuity),

and guaranteeing, limning, and ossifying
unchanging lifelong livingsocial abode
of Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum
at that juncture (of happy and healthy)
within the space time continuum
4 after Midnight, (when Christine
came down with severe bout of misery
qua writer's block), and sponsored
by Plexus, nexus Lexus Wilkie Buick,
who guaranteed their

handsomely crafted automobiles
(specially designed with an app
to weather fierce blistering,
pelting thermal withering geologic events,
sans natural catastrophes)
included extra durable crushed bougainvillea
(allegedly beefed chromosomes)
deftly effected fortified (gluten free)
genetically housed immensely
jimmied, kindled, lionized magnetized numbskulls.

The volcanic magma seemed to possess
an uncanny intelligent, eerie ability
to discriminate among bias,
die hard extremist stances, liberal take
on hot button controversial issues,
political ultra factions, hence the eye catching,
shining, yet confusing moniker
"Smart Ash" soon codified, fructified, indemnified
with the reputable, musical, and inestimable
qua personae non gratae prodigy Sam Ash".

Actually, there did seem to appear
some natural likeness in violent temperament,
resonant penchant, and nascent lambent
Jill Saint John habiliment
between former magmatic material,
and protean Primate prehensile prattling Simian,
who (as a sidereal stellar story teller)
happens to be yours truly.

Anyway, due to strict
parochial Lutheran hackneyed dogma,
no iota of boasting, flattering, nattering chattering
allowed from this anonymous,
hip po' eponymous, harmonious, industrious,
innocuous, judicious, loquacious, marvelous,
querulous Norwegian bachelor farmer.

Ponder with scrunched furrowed brow
in a serious effort to expound at large
this incredulous nebulous,
shape shifting (than compound
an understandably mixed up notion),
thus now tis a noteworthy opportunity
to point out divulging the name of this scribe
would immediately necessitate notification
of Non-Coms, who would forcibly usher
this lapsed long haired pencil neck geek.

This action (not newsworthy in the least),
would thus mocks nix notorious nauseating, nasty,
never-ending nonsensical noodling.

How sad, hence tis not wise tune hip
virtual thorn in the dark side.

Rather best bet would be to buffer end
this figurative bud dee **** encased
within corpus callosum.

Though identity guard disallows revealing namesake
of this nincompoop, the most information
told about this little known author
can be reduced to one word.

That abridged version would deprive
any subsequent reader a brave attempt
to interpret convoluted spaghetti writing.

Despite ambition to bob and weave continuously
(creating a conglomeration of ever increasing
virtual loose threads),
one final capstone concept begs to be conveyed.

Thine ziggurat severely atilt rivaled
(sorry tubby cheesy),
but the Leaning Tower of Pisa!

Asinine argot acquired bilious berserk baggage,
which stakes no claim nsync with
longevity, magnanimity, notoriety, et cetera.

A series of unfortunate literary,
lickity-split liberty unintentionally
left a prose ache wake.

An honest to dogness attempt bedeviled crux
displaying evident fiasco.

Slinky circumstances, sans synonymity,
synergistically, and synchronicity
yielded a feeble effort at fame.

Birth thing a complex mental edifice
begot aborted aspiration foray zing
grateful, mindful, and respectful characterization.
Travis Green Mar 2022
I am caught up in his sparkling sauna
Suffused with magnetic hotness
His magic shifts and swirls in my midst
His skin, clean, dreamy, and tempting
Sultry spectacularity, streaming sweet chocolate
My temperature rises and synchronizes with his
I collide into his tremendous thrilling tide
Drown in benevolent bliss

So high on his extraordinariness
His seamless ceaseless collectedness
He glistens ever so endlessly
Like an authentic extravagant chandelier
Like a gorgeously dreamy rose garden
Delightfully enchanting as Harrisburg City Island
He is my relaxation to luxuriate in
So lovingly made and unparalleled

Dapper dangling dreadlocks
Attached to an extra enrapturing marvel
His aromatic ambrosial redolence cajoles me to him more
I am enveloped in his deep warmth
Looking at the myriad mesmerizing mazes
In his fiery flickering eyes
Tasty chocolate lips to kiss and bite into
Like delicious whiskey caramel donuts
Like a yummy brown sugar *** raisin pie

His beard is highly ingratiating
Exhibiting unfathomable masculineness
He is like a gleaming Caribbean breeze
Teeming with swimmingly sensual sights
That excites my ebullient existence
I want more than ever to embrace him all over
Lapse into his immaculate strapping structure
So lusciously loveable and huggable
Irresistible and suckable
I rise triumphantly with him
I traverse wherever his dreams take him
Kurt Philip Behm Sep 2020
I was twenty,
you were nineteen,
  that day along the mall

When I heard a guitar
  from deep inside,
  that round auditorium hall

Up on stage with legends,
  Son House, Muddy,
  Johnny Winter too

A red haired, freckle faced,
  blue eyed girl
  commenced to sing the blues

You started with an apology,
  saying you were outclassed
  and over matched

But once that voice
  left your heart and flew
   ….in nothing did you lack

I followed you out
  that afternoon,
  in the late State College Fall

And after fifty years of looking back,
every moment
  I recall

I walked you to the bus
  as you said:
  “We're in Harrisburg tonight

“Why don't you come,
   it might be fun,
   from there I catch a flight”

The bus was full,
  my eyes looked south
  as I hitchhiked down #322

Fate unexplained,
  life forever changed
   -that special gift from you

(Villanova Pennsylvania: Looking Back- March, 2018)
lurks within the outer limits of cyberspace,
where dark shadows eclipse edge of night
indistinguishable from the twilight zone.

Within the Internet binary size weavers loom
shuttlecock whizzes (analogous to a bad mitten)
at speed of greased lightning warp speed
weaving courtesy electronic webbed wide world
snaring and snagging
poor schlemiel or schlimazel,
videlicet snazzy convincing culprit,
who gets figuratively sucker punched
courtesy malevolent scoundrels
(devoid of moral scruples)
to mimic legitimacy
subsequently scam without misgivings
(but exude untrammeled glee)
preying upon vulnerable particular populations
such as the elderly and infirm.

Victim services of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania
helped me recoup one hundred Benjamins,
whereas gofundme page
(I jimmied up for myself)
wrought nary a handy dandy blues clues
restitution, and passage of time
failed to help me shake off loss
financial windfall garnered
from shifty eyed weasley wiseacres,
who managed to usurp without a hitch
manifold times more than a ***** dozen
designated dollar denomination
with President Grover Cleveland's face

and yours truly (me) continues to chide himself
for significant sucker punches
to solar plexus of mine
still smarting when analogous hackers
tricked the writer of these words
into zombified, hypnotized, bamboozled...
approximately seventeen plus months ago
when venal hucksters
hacked into Macbook Pro laptop,
an older model before purchasing current
MacBook Pro (Retina, 15-inch, Mid 2015)
and left absolute zero trace of their whereabouts
a fly by night scampering posse if thieves.

I think back to that diabolical
hectoring kafkaesque purgatory,
and replay the mental tape
before yours truly (me)
blindsided (even while wearing eyeglasses
that offered 20/20 insight),
nevertheless acting as if controlled remotely

behavior of mine at the mercy of one
who called himself Harvey Specter
(invariably he touted other pseudonyms
to avoid identification)
while he coached one after another
of his brainwashed subject
cursed like an automaton.

Argh! I decry being a "Dummkopf"
and stupidly followed gentle commands
to drive to the nearest ATM,
(which happens to be an MP gas station
located at 125 Gravel Pike,
Collegeville, PA 19426),
wherein I converted nearly
every last red cent
from Citizens Bank accounts
into  a kind of digital payment,
or cryptocurrency namely;

Bitcoin (the first decentralized cryptocurrency.

Nodes in the peer-to-peer bitcoin network verify transactions through cryptography and record them in a public distributed ledger, called a blockchain, without central oversight.

Consensus between nodes is achieved using a computationally intensive process based on proof of work, called mining, that secures the bitcoin blockchain. Mining consumes large quantities of electricity and has been criticized for its environmental impact.

After buzzfeeding
one large denominational bill after another
into the maw of the mute cash
banking my virtual wallet
also known as a digital wallet
bulged at the seams,
which constitutes software-based system
that stores payment information and allows users
to make purchases without physical cards or cash)
signed, sealed and delivered
to aforementioned scoundrel.

Nest egg of mine
(mostly lifetime monetary accumulation
of birthday or holiday gifts
scrupulously saved for dotage
of me and the missus)
mere chump change
of a crack (drug) dealer,
but never enough remaining years,
thus mein kampf forever
an impossible mission
to feel free and clear of penury,
cuz social security disability the saving grace
allowing, enabling and providing
fiscal ways and means
to avoid being homeless.

— The End —