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Mattrick Patrick Nov 2014
Were all just machines, bound for the train station that’ll hightail us out and over
To the junkyard where we never sleep and the foundry melts us down to make room
For the new undead, but non-living, to starve for what their computers say they need.
But when you smile, your eyes show me that you have a soul inside that’s beautiful,
And it proves my heart is something more than what the factory made it for;
That my love means something more than a series of chemical reactions in my brain,
That the mornings and nights we spent were worth more than we ever knew,
And that you are someone more special to me than I have ever known.

So, as we fly down the track of grayest metals and coldest weather, into the north country
To God knows where to as the sun is at dawn and dusk at the same time,
Remember that your heart doesn’t need to be held like coal, that your eyes are soulful,
That someone, somewhere thinks you’re more than a piece of electric meat,
That I think you’re worth more than my life,—my holy hunk of steel—but don’t let that
Get to your head missy! And that when we’re laid upon the cutting board
To be scraped and melted down, I want to be laid there next to you
To kiss you one more time, while I look into your eyes, searchingly.
Bob B Nov 2016
When life's going well and our health is good,
We've got the drive and means to go far,
And we seem to have the world by the tail,
Do we appreciate how lucky we are?
 
My thoughts are on a particular person:
Brittany Maynard--a daughter, a wife--
Young, vivacious, compassionate, caring,
Full of dreams, at the prime of her life,
 
Until she found she had brain cancer--
Glioblastoma--an aggressive assault--
Which turned Brittany's life upside down
And brought her dreams to a sudden halt.
 
Given six more months to live,
She pondered her options and moved to a state
Where she could decide to die with dignity
Before it ended up being too late.
 
Terminally ill Oregon residents
Who are mentally competent can make use
Of the Death with Dignity Act of Oregon.
Established safeguards prevent its abuse.
 
Verbal, cognitive, and motor loss,
Possible morphine-resistant pain,
Major changes in personality,
Paralyzing seizures--hard to contain--
 
Were what Brittany had to look forward to.
Such an existence, so grim and so bleak,
Was not what she wanted her family to experience:
Her constant suffering, week after week.
 
In her last months, Brittany had traveled.
She'd shared her feelings; for example, she'd say
It's important to do what's important to us.
In other words, we should seize the day.
 
To her family in November 2014
Brittany said her final good-byes
And peacefully went on the final journey--
The one that transcends both the earth and the skies.
 
I wouldn't wait around for a miracle
If I had to deal with what Brittany went through:
Inoperable brain cancer!
I'd hightail it to Oregon, too.

- by Bob B
We are on the "no call" list
Yet, our telephone still rings
We've a sign that says "No Pedlars"
But, there's people selling things
Showing up and disregarding
The sign that we've put there
They won't accept the fact they've trespassed
They really do not care
We get calls from companies
Who aren't allowed to phone
And when we say "we're on the list"
They leave us alone
It last for just two hours
Then they call back again
We start the "No call" salsa
From the beginning once again.
People drive by and they stop
They say our house needs work
They saw it from a mile back
They must think I'm a ****
I figure that their eyesight great
For our problem's not out front
The problem is around the rear
They're just searching on a hunt
Have you ever asked yourself
How do they "fly by night"
For they're all so full of *******
They couldn't muster any height
They tell you that they did some work
For the lady who lived here
But if they're work is so **** durable
Why did it only last a year
They're nothing but cheap hustlers
Who want to rip you off and leave
They're just out to get your money
They practice to decieve
They've never got good papers
To show just where they're from
And when you ask to see them
They hightail it and they run
The honest ones leave me alone
And they do not cross my step
For they read my sign "No Pedlars"
And they leave my place...with pep
They move on to the neighbors
They do not wait around
They don't look inside my windows
They just evacuate my ground
There's salesmen doing driveways
Professionals, these guys ain't
All they want to do is
Cover up my drive with paint
They ask about my eavestroughs
It is blocked, that's why it drips
But, it has a gutter cover
That's help on with plastic clips
They phone me during dinner
And they say, "Hi, my name's Jay"
But they sound as if they're calling
From an office in Bombay
They know that my computer
Has a virus I can't fix
And if I let them in my system
This problem they will nix
They prey on you not knowing
And they catch you unaware
So if you don't know these people
i'd advise you please take care
You can tell them really nicely
Or you can tell them go to hell
But right now, my phone is ringing
It must be Jay upon my cell.
Addendum to title:
Boyhood Digs in Collegeville, Pennsylvania 19426

Oft times forced exposure therapy spelled rustling quiet
Pyrrhic punitive onslaughts noisome moody linkedin kicks
jarring inxs harbored grievances foo fighting essence
denoting cannibalized august boy aghast to confront reality
returning home meant compromising autonomy
acceptable collateral casting leftist strides rite
constituting timid steps circumscribing childhoods’ end,
comprising reluctant trudge treading toward adolescence
where wold wide webbed magic ride
rode ruff shod o’er carped hooked
synthetic threads re: fibrous veld
whence extolled impressive footprints
measured triangular wedges rung duff feet
expediently dragged churlish badinage afoot
stretching across Scottish tartan
Harris Tweed unwelcome matt despite frustrated parents
whose vitriol unleashed tough-love,
smacked regularly quasi planned
threatened ultimatums venomous viz witches
yawping against my brand
falling out of good graces,
though hatching escape merely fanned
actions hightail me to bedroom, a secure space,
not exceptionally grand
yet despite rapacious and relentless rage
against the sole son, who hand
did lee managed inciting wrath
of me papa and late mama,
this parcel of land, now entombs nostalgia
namely 324 level road, Collegeville,
Penna, 19426 make believe pal Joey and this creator
passively succumbed to withstand
invisible jetblue lobbing onslaught of slingshot barbs,
wharf fear to rely on self way past primetime,
which solo endeavor didst demand
absent belief, confidence and faith in innate survival skills,
hence countless admonitions recurred
razed quest qua pursed lips
those who begat their only male heir,
provoking predictable panned
da moan he hum in tandem
with concomitant wickedness akin to eland
caught in cross hairs getting pistol-whipped
with many barking explicit derogatory gerund formed
expletives, that did not dislodge this immobile body electric
defying logic, now in retrospect clueless why I suffered to withstand
incessant verbal, venal, and n’er vampire weakened blows
inexplicable, how this soulful, ruminating,
and tortured walking wounded blithely weathered turpitude  
though devoid of sense and sensibility, how no man iz an island
though at times incontinent, where jocund this bard for’er opened
Pandora’s box, but hindsight softened cleft pride and prejudice
whereat bulldozed site of once grand “Glen Elm” tears me up inside
fading memories refreshed, via priceless gift
from beloved younger sister
unwittingly mitigated hammer blows of pain to confront the void,
whence away from obliterated complex edifice grief felt ******!
JL Dec 2011
I don't use a bookmark
Or fold the precious page
I remember where I stopped





Even after days

Books
are
stacked
as
tall
as
me
In piles                                       'round my room
Some nights I lie awake in fear
"This book
(Gulp)
is over due"

A S.W.A.T. team breaks down my door
And cuffs me on the floor
They'll find the evidence on my shelves and stacked around my door
And drag me to the the little room to make me sweat a few

The moustached cop with coffee stains yells:
THESE BOOKS ARE YEARS PAST DUE!"

But I don't fear the ******' cheese
So when moustache left the room
I used my skill with paperclips, and left the handcuffs strewn
I grabbed myself a hostage
To hightail it outta here
I made it to the front door
Smiling ear to ear

To the Mexican stand off

The bang bang bang


I whispered in her ear
To stop all the crying and whimpering
Her eyes do full of fear
"I promise that you'll see your kids;

I will not hurt you dear

The Pigs creep close
My voice it croaks:
"ALL I WANT'S MY ****** BOOKS
AND WE'LL ALL WALK OUTTA HERE


I'm an outlaw now
A vagabond
Walking through the Wastes
I will not see my home again
Or any friendly place
Nothing now but the open road
And a bag of way-past-dates
merciless genocide
     slaughter of native peoples
     wrought with (super) wanton zeal
feeble ability to thwart

     "discoverers" rapine wicked onslaught
     merely ratcheted wrecked webbing
wrenched tribal unity,
     violently rent asunder

     vibrant indigenous linkedin weave    
rendered sacred weltanschauung
     decimated "noble savage"
     woke wretched nightmare,

     sans pock marked worsted weal
the Native American holocaust
     shrouded in whitewashed veil
tragedy trampled truces

     triggering tearful trail
scoped scattered remnant
     snuffed out via surveil
futile sympathetic remonstrances,

     viz rant and rail
hermetically sealed
     ***** deeds done dirt
     blunted, cheapened,

     and deadened
     lance armstrong to quail
most definitely coloring faces
     of captive

     American Indians deathly pale
into figurative coffin
     got hammered
     rusty nine inch nail

subpar critical population mass
     for survival, plus storied "red man"
     bereft of ample potent male
off limits to original proprietors

     forced to hightail  
happy hunting grounds o'er hill and dale
becoming desiccated bleached bones
     devoid of awful, pitiful,

     and sorrowful fait accompli
and roaming spirits
     like banshees bewail
grievous shadow a blot doth cause me to ail!
(no braggadocio! modest rodomontade scored triumphantly!)

Unbeknownst to me, a generic human ape,
an unpleasant surprise
     swished down like an ominous cape
awaited and near smothered me drape

ping that October morning, where no escape
presaged via frisky black cats
     chasing shadows on fire escape
crossed my path after walking under a ladder
     where ice **** ravens didst jape!
**********
Wheels of injustice applied via de
fender, sans Johnny Cochran forced ee
year splitting amidst general public fee
ver rush to absorb disbelief shell shock hee
ret tickle non guilty conviction from key

ping popular culture spell bountious lee
really exhausted viz three ring me
dee ya circus (June 1994 – October 1995) pre
vail ling obvious evidence irrelevant, thus re
deeming O.J. Simpson to strut guilt free

from emotionally charged trial. I awoke
as usual and performed customary bespoke
oblations vis a vis half-hour plus choke
hold asphyxiation meditation, okey doke
shuteye discipline followed daily to evoke

calm, cool, and collected trance zen dental
bliss before motoring on with gist of gentle
lee presented vignette, though me mental
state did not shift gears into a rental

modus operandi, but only partially new
trawl eyed , cuz the then fiancé (one mew
zing chic chick i.e. Abby Robin Zison), Jew
dish us lee spent the night
     at our transitional grew

some domicile) immediately nsync to report do
tuff lee (at the Goddard School)
     raced like a Chew
Bach ha's Dickensian protagonist back up Badoo
two flights of stairs. Like eponymous Aloo

men hum mushing spry feline woman out bitta bing
bitta bang (clanging like hells bells) ding  
donging, she immediately flew back fling
all four feet eleven of her harried style jing

ling in an agitated state she set foot to go bob  
bing out the door intent
   (as iterated) driving to her job,
and in combination pantomime
   and words crisis did lob

asper like a bot to me,
     she attempted to communicate rob
bing her unsuspecting fount of thespianism
   tub air gritty modicum
   of rationale from putrid slob

name of Leslie (the lunatic landlady)
     thine paramour conveyed clarity mouth ajar
after surmising urgent news
     required automatic action to un bar
driveway, where I parked car,

the previous night surreptitiously venal far
from rational rapscallion most definitely har
bored an axe to grind, and locked Ford Escort par
**** shinned within chain linked fence - war

fore suggestion got made
     (from future bride)
to confront landlady,
     and sternly insist and mildly chide
corrective action taken,

     yet this storyteller defied
said suggestion, and brainstormed
    with betrothed asthma guide
averting compromising neither of our pride

and prejudice respective, sans stevedore
managers would not let us slide
gnome hatter, how we could not
     escape deprecation
     no matter how much we tried.

Prior to heading off to bed
     the prior night, I deigned
to express likelihood to landlord/owner
     thyself and pseudo spouse needed to find

another place to live. The major reasons
for vacating premises? Her grind
ding cigarette no ifs, ands
     or buts smoking mind
less ness ranked (on par
     with chimney didst wind

     burning wood smoke
at full blast) as primary source
     of revulsion did provoke,
and aye came across with homespun folksy
sensitive mien, as a simple country bloke
I expressed honest sentiment at being
extremely averse (where hacking awoke

     the future wife)
     from second hand carcinogen(s)  
     extant within cancer sticks. Asphyxiation deafen
knit lee found me choking half to death even
putting towel under the door, or

     additionally keeping
     bedroom window wide open,
the malodorous nicotine wisps ambled - pen
     knit trait ting, wending, curly cued,
     and filtered thru fabric with mischievous yen.

No matter, the twisting tendrils of tobacco found
their way into ole factory nasal cavity ground
zero, sans health conscious holistic being hound
did, what constituted one deranged dame
     the SPCA ought to impound.

Another factor fueling foul accommodations yin
     wanna know offset fine tuned win
Dixie yang,
     which odoriferous torture constituted

     nauseating odor of cat *****
and litter boxes smelt worse than sin,
cuz, they never got cleaned of feline ***** matter
     near visible as a unsightly dangerous shark fin.

Upon summoning effort
     and energy to communicate
bona fide concerns, she responded
     and didst denigrate

with contempt fiery madness irate
psychotic malicious venomous vile
     as dead body snatcher mate
and then insidious wheels

     of malice with tongue flames
crackling, popping, and snapping
     from out her reptilian pate
     began to turn more sharply

     amidst ghoulish clatter and path
     of destruction on her tabula rosa slate
with more danger than
     along axis of evil tete a tete.

She madly paced back and forth
     across maligned envisioned aisle
a small patch of uncluttered space in main foyer
     witnessed seething rage wherein

     carpeted floor boards,
     an imperfect circle shod feet didst dial
no doubt internally
     plotting vengeful strategic guile.

Castigations, fulminations, and insinuations ague
gulled out her mouth
     noxious fumes left exit pronto flew
ludicrous lacerations
     from fiery dragon lady did spew

while yours truly soundly slept
     and without incident dreamt edenic view
she unwittingly trappings to annihilate  Xandu
some personal vendetta. After I washed, dressed as a zoo

keeper headed downstairs,
     the malicious scheme she did hatch
out back became a living reality,
     an empty house doors hooked with latch

(Samir, the other occupant) left hours earlier no match
to tangle with wicked witch absented premises natch
eerily echoed every footstep trod one patch,
after another
     patent leather slippers paused to scratch

an niche 'pon second landing
     (to confirm a strong hunch)
that nary a soul heard nor seen,
     probably out to lunch,

no raving ranting banshee
     demented drunk as punch
No zombie like entity appeared from the “DO
NOT DISTURB” sign affixed
     outside sleeping area, aye did scrunch

brow to compress insight,
     where mangy catatonic felines
     shared coterie holograms suddenly jumped out
     from virtual reality cat n' app cradle
     swishing tails shorn like cat o' nines

mewing obscenities (within/ out
     computer screen, ominous signs,
sans phantasmagoric phantom) lurking
     like a lunatic swing from vines.

Nonetheless, I continued to tread
     down dimly lit said
lower level with glimmer
     of optimism to bolster lead

din heavy mood crossing fingers
     spare set of skeleton keys
     (with cross bones and skull head)
nearly always left tantalizingly
     dangling in unused door latch, twas cred

double wish, thus spirit within me soared
and just as quickly sank to abyss of psyche moored
     sensation felt like poured molten lava oh Lord
Guess what? No such luck. Oh,
     she definitely would not a ford

carelessness, and took precautions okay
hiding temptation to make a getaway
Well…I stepped outside
     to assess situation. Blimey cray
zee myopic eyes forced to glean deadbolt
     found gate shut tight, thence a feeble bray

escaped parched lips, when lo...vix
teased and cross myopic eyes,
     no doubt played tricks
holy glory. Ah, a handsaw
     carelessly got left and altered mix
matched tool chest in plain view, a sudden fix

but prior to acting on the plan, quite do able
I made a few telephone calls
     first telephonically cable
hub rate, and firstly contacted employer

     told tale more unbelievable than a fable
thence to local police
     in order to file complaint against
     goon bonkers malicious monstrous label

quick as the brown fox
     jumps over the lazy dog
escape attempted perilous hell grog
ghee nightmare commenced after placing

     phone back on cradle, whence nog
     'gin set fingers to twitch busily
     sawing into one steel link,
    (an effort aye did slog)

thru to break at one linkedin steel segment
barricading trusty Ford Escort
     so this fellow could hightail with pent
up adrenaline out of nefarious
     steely web and test a mint...,

     whence surge of adrenaline
coursed from head to toe,
     my heart pounded not so gent
lee ready to burst from chest,
     and palms perspired profusely
with unexpected accursed of evil incarnate
     vis a vis hell bent agent

provocateur ready to pounce
     and deliver violent
retribution, which blows
     from blunt heavy object,
   would invariably render me unconscious
   courtesy of cerebral rent.

For better than worse, a kind face
of destiny smiled from countenance grace
sing unseen karma
     smiled smooth as sateen or lace
upon my essence as shaking hands

     furiosly moved saw handle
     back and forth dozens of times until…
THE CHAIN BROKE AND SET ME FREE
     now fickle finger of fate
     got me ought ta this place!
BLitZeD Feb 2016
When I sit back and relax, I still push that, I pull stacks/
**** with some mean cats, safety off, click clack/
Thats real rap I mean that/
Concealed carry, carrying Hazmat/
Hole through your cowboy hat/
In the old saloon, fresh chaps/
Blast you back to the future , the permit permits that
I own the West, the wilds won
Brush the dust off my vest,  chrome magnum, my choice of gun
Now run along son, this is no place for Fival,
Get the **** out of my face or you wont live to see another rival/
In this contest i highly doubt your chance of survival/
  Hightail it East while your still alive, truths undeniable/
**** the Alamo, remember my promises are reliable/
So put the money in the bag, act natural an I swear to god you better ******* smile dude
;..)
Michael Luciano Nov 2020
I can see the whole world around me burn down slowly flood lights flowing who's that calling?

She's coming in as she is a force of nature some scorching vapor burn down slowly the world is paper.

Doing business with the native Village full on Savage sun is falling full of Ashes.

See the storms they crawl across the Horizons backside I seen them last night Monsoon high tide.

The way she's moving is awfully crafty looking at me see her eyes now full on dry spell.

See her burn across the daytime Blue Sky sight seen bird's-eye last try midnight.

Fall into a bottomless void now soundless crying bodies flailing Scorch them slowly.

Drowning deep beneath the ash clouds song now fastlane hightail driving snail's pace.

We drag our bodies across the daily grind stone burning scrapes hurt long-lost neighbors.

I seen her eyes among the fleeting vapors funeral pile burn down slowly the world's on fire.
If it looked at me

I'm sure that victory

would lose




I never choose to cast a doubt

I'd rather pack my bags and

hightail out

but

I am

locked into this role I play

I have no sanity

I have no say




if I chose the winning side

those on the other side would

claim a

foul.




My hands are tied

my brain is tired

and I have tried

really, really

tried

tried until I cried




I'll cry no more




close my mouth

close the door

leave.
Anjana Rao May 2020
I'm near the door
of this queer party
scanning the stream of people
coming in.

For who?

For you.

Who else?

Person
after
person
after
person.

And then
there you are,

and my heart
does some kind of flip
even tho
I swear to myself
I'm over you.

I mean
I don't even think of you
that often but

there you are
and I can't help
yearning
for something
that'll never happen.

Tell myself
over and over and over
that I'm with someone better for me,

but she's white,
and never goes out,
and safe,
and you -

well,
you're you.

And we talk,
tease each other,
saying nothing
important.

And it's okay.
And it's not.

And later in the night
when you tell me
about what's happening at Otto
after this event
I hightail it there,

of course I do,

hoping, hoping, hoping...

And even now,
I sit in this coffee shop
waiting to go to an event
you said you'd be at and

God

I'd give anything
to be different,

to not want
what I can't have.

I'd give anything
to be more
than a moth
to a flame

to be satisfied
with what I've got,

but I can't help it.

I want
forest fire love.

Give me
forest fire love.

I want to be
burned alive.
Written February 9, 2020
Lou Gopal Dec 2018
There was a man who lived in the Thirties.
He claimed he had lost all he had to attorneys
due to a bitter fight with a long gone ex
who caught him chasing women and having ***.
He had to hightail it outta town overnight.
Figured it was that or to stick around and fight.

So he rode the rails from town to town,
never staying long enough to settle down.
He was what they used to call back then, a hobo.
Not quite a *** but certainly low brow.

It was a hot summer's day down in San Berdoo
(that’s San Bernadino to you)
He walked down a backstreet,  just one of a few
like others with packs on their backs
looking for work - maybe hire on with a road crew.

He spotted a pug-nosed, three-legged dog
that tailed him for at least two blocks.
A curious little thing that shuffled when it walked.
Thinking it was lost or far from its home,
the owner not aware it might have been gone,
he filled a pan of water for the dog to drink.
It gave him pause to stop and think.

What was the story of this deformed pup ?
How had it lost its leg and wound up
roaming the streets scavenging for a bite to eat ?
Just about then, the man thought he heard a voice
come out from that pug-nose's throat.
"I’ve got a secret to share", it said, more like a boast.
The man could not believe his ears.
A talking dog, he thought.
I’m done for....I’m toast !
Use your imagination to continue the story. What secret did the talking dog share ?
Caro Aug 2022
That you that very extra part of who you are
That extra you
That refuses to be blue
That indulges in the new
That loves things examined and profuse
That darkness in your rhythm
That glory in your spine
That faded glow
Of mornings light
Living in the dusk of your smile
That raspberry bliss
That kiss on the lips
From these tips
The little pout of skin
On the rim of my digit
Is belightful
She’s a white stone
And a blue moon
A dark morado heart
And mint ice cream in her tones
She’s tralificent
Piercing eyes like a taradactal's call
Nose as knowing as the bill of a heron
She’s green corn
And green lights on Santa Monica Blvd
Cars passing before her on parade
Wizzing ever to her aid
She’s maple syrup
And pink Helvetica
16.7 or 32 pt font in bold
She's wistful
She's perfect
She's Buster Keaton
And Jessica Rabbit
She's Chicago in Paradise
She's Arnie's Vegan Pizza Palace
She's A to Z as many ways as you like
She is passion sizzling on a stick
She is upside down and inside out and abiding in her own bowl of Magic Soup

Recently, she’s baby blue, too
A color she’d never met that she never knew
A color she’d never thought she’d be
But now,
In this new season of weeping
Cerulean and turquoise go sweeping by
She’s heard blue in her ears caught this blissful mist swirling in the corners of her spies
And now here they are together in a dance in the ether
Both surrounding each other
Neither knowing either
Strangers to the danger that must surely lie within
But deep inside there does abide a spoon big as the moon to lap up the soup she's stewed and brewed since June.

A 47 foot tall marble woman resurrected by some teenagers trying a spell in the park
Shades of white with royal blue speckles
Lilting away into the day with 1000 pound foot steps and unstoppable knees
Leaving evergreen and fresh pine leaves
In her wake.
Spring up life where I touch down with these cool marble soles
Massive and made of ancient earth not knowing anything but what she must
Forsaking the flaws of humankind that would do her harm
be her fall
Paint her speckles
Cry wolf calls
Awareness found apart from that familiar shade of jade is what she seeks now clothed in freshly spun flesh

Been lost in the dichotomy of black and white
Of dark and light
Of wrong and right
But there is a shadow and a dim and a bright
There is a disaster and a mess and a slight
Colors and shades galore; eggshell, magenta and quite a bit more I could go on
But rather I’d tell you that

She’s skirts hoisted up crossing a river at dawn
She’s the soft pectoral muscle of a sweet mare in the hot summer sun
She’s a lineback dun
She’s creamed corn
She’s soft core **** but give it a slap, a thwack
A proper ****
Again
With feeling

She’s neon nightscapes
She’s every book she’s ever read
She’s scheming tree nuts finding the perfect spot to burrow into the soil nestled by nature’s urging to sprout a root and grow into a baby leaf creeping up towards the sky and downward further downward rooting deeper ever growing always breathing never being the same never changing in any way but in all the ways she must
A 1960’s average family man’s mid-life crisis convertible
Something turquoise
Fit for the kids and the wife and the ego and the front lawn and the grocer and a hightail down the coastline
She’s cinnamon and thyme
She’s spicy
On the back of her neck in the crook of her spine where the stardust that she’s made of meets for the millionth time
She’s a wave breaking in your mouth

She’s pouring boiling water into a lukewarm bath
She’s love

Salt water spewing levitating you but not for long if you don’t carry your own weight be dragged to sea always with me don’t get lost in my motion in my ocean in my Trojan horse my gift you mistook as something you could own
Electroconvulsive therapy,
     a last ditch avail
able effort optioned, aye bewail
as desperation if standard
     psychological measures peter

     out leave ving paul tree
(paltry) choice, and blackmail
ling Doctor Frankenstein
     out of the question, cuz
     accidental discover re:

     visa vis could yield (ahem) grave
     zero APR, hence bad
     (bon jovian) medicine
     sought as precautionary
     measure to countervail

undesirable repercussions
     hoop fully curtail
ling any unexpected derail
ment, thus every nitty gritty detail,
asper my treatment plan

made purposely intractable
courtesy Matthew Scott Harris,
     to flummox decrypting
     this daunting task, whose
     hair brained scheme didst entail

hatching with Sam I am
    (of Doctor Zeus fame)...Oh...My...G_
egg gads no fail-
safe recourse, should shell shock
     Electroconvulsive – formerly electric shock

     therapy even slip an infinitesimal jot
     offsetting requisite
     exactly predicted results
     yes, even if precision errs
     by a mere clipped fingernail...

the sought after outcome
     (devised on the fly - by night
     Reddit writer above named author)
must absolutely dovetail
     with The Elements of Style

or very close
     facsimile thereof, anyway
strict requirements quality controlled
     with results tubby
     sent as email

to Strunk and White,
     who will flail
like some GMO gone awry
     (if patient accidentally electrocuted)
     finding them to become

     instantaneously petrified and frail
looking analogous to
     witnessing the Holy Grail
shattering into a bajillion pieces,
     whereby the heavens,

     would reign hail
scaring every last man,
     woman, and child to hightail
donned in heavy duty boots
     studded with many a hobnail

with duff feet, sans long arm of
     law and order on their heels,
     and if any scapegoats nabbed
     definitely consigned to jail
without chance of parole to prevail

no matter guilty might sail
to some tropical island awash
     with countless carbon copies
     of Euell Gibbons doppelganger,
and Swiss Alpine like mountains to scale.
Despite emotional, financial, grammatical...
any woe that doth assail
whereat early in the
morning until late at night tub bail
sinking craft, not possible
(essentially 24/7), I bewail,

where the fickle finger
of fate stationed me in life,
as if groping in the dark
unfamiliar with Braille
at heart though - directly predicted
on how yours truly did curtail

requisite healthy development of
body, mind, and spirit, yes analogous
to a train tragically did derail
in a near fatal
(scores of years ago) accident
(sorry no gory detail),

yet the impact still sorely felt
(argh...eek...ouch...all pains dovetail
actually more like subduction,
(way more powerful than deleting email),
sans plate tectonics geomorphism process
(a lengthy missive would entail)

full scale explanation, okay
in a figurative nutshell this, male
long (winded) fellow cannot Atlas
shrug off the belief he did fail,
and hopelessly embarked on
impossible mission to secure the Holy Grail

this state of mind linked to many pursuits
that metaphorically did fishtail
many objectives abandoned
finding me to flail
convincing myself at a
tender age incapable NOT gale

lent academically, athletically, avocationally...
thus many personal enterprises
witnessed a scared, hence best to hightail
further progress without testing potential,
I often ruminate, how aye did hobnail,

viz self imposed aversion to risk
on par with the most fortified jail
and one circumstance that
expunges burdensome junk mail
occurs basking under spray

as warm water doth prevail
cleansing, kickstarting, and
rejuvenating (albeit temporarily)
though some hours later...
back to choppy waves and torturous sail.
(breaking free of writer's block)

Asper this instance,
     when a dearth of ideas
     like a charred bait oven
    finds me looking Bach
at drawing board and/or the clock
as if inspiration
     can be found teasing out
     whimsical child like spontaneity

     recalling hickory dickory dock
rather than exacerbate
     mental paralysis, akin
to an invisible vice grip,
     which tension eventually
     far worse than bill
lee esse ness, which former
     grips with irony my chin,

I try release sing restraint and chill,
ready to whip out power drill
not surprised finding sawdust,
viz of course after numbing skull
     sticking head in deep freeze
     or mounting temple
     on dry ice, without
     receiving nary a cavil

lack of creative noggin fill
intense concentration
     invariably heats up "thinker"
     as if being scalded
     on a barbecue grill
(which fixed attention),
     never ever engenders
     positive flow of ideas,

     but absolutely ideal
     for reducing a mole hill
from a mountain
     nonetheless within ma mind,
     before long prolonged
     cessation to brain
     storm induces ill
humor succumbing into

     torturous mental state
(fall of the cider
     house rules usher),
     non poe whet
     tick dark age,
     whar ah felt jill
ted loom min hated
     with panic ready to ****...

mice elf (Stuart Little),
     cuz dem lil
cerebral cogs and wheels
     malfunction for more'n a mill
yen times prompting
     to scout graveyards
     for fresh corpse, and
     if results rendered nill

jet over to Doctor Frankenstein,
     even if aye gotta
     hightail to Trans sill
vein ya, unless....
     perhaps ye kind reader twill
donate yar viable gray matter tummy
     (right after ya die) denny ya will
almost be im mort till!
Cabin Fever door closes five dollars,
a-Bag Used Book Sale
Sunday, February 23, 2020
hence less than twenty four hours
before avid readers bewail
foregoing scampering across Hillandale
vital poetic proclamation

yours truly doth broadcast,
albeit apologize short notice,
while courtesy warden
at Highland Manor Jail
gave scant time regarding
voluntary convict generic male
i.e. hastily dash off important message
pinch hitting talking head (me)

hammering metaphorical nail
if able, eager, ready and willing to hightail
body electric charged without fail
Lower Providence Community Library
50 Parklane Dr, Eagleville, PA 19403
buzzfeeding, grubhubbing, ripsnorting...
adieu, I in track ably rant and rail

take rucksack in hand
aforementioned (mere pennies on the dollar)
golden opportunity doth avail
to appease hunger for knowledge
pinteresting plethora reading material,
cuz ordinarily soft and hardbound books
cost fifty cents and one dollar
respectively without fail.

Analogous with General
George Armstrong Custer,
whose ***** deed done dirt cheap -
a vindictive haughty Civil War buster
subsequently sabotaging his military luster
received deserved comeuppance -

(strictly mine opinion, which
don't find me to cringe nor fluster),
yea for Indigenous Americans courage to muster
said brainstorm idea burst thru mine
fifty shades gray matter like... gangbuster.

Any Noah Ark kin sawed
Pacific intent to sermonize
merely interject personal opinion gussied up
with reasonable rhyming guise
creative freedom of speech, I tactfully exercise
when airing similar perspective (such as...)

if election results constitutes Democratic
securing commander in chief prize
Tuesday November 3rd, 2020 where cries
of hallelujah and huzzahs
(maybe bajillion hosannas
thrown in for good measure),
no extra mayo to relish nor fries

brief political predilection
(fingers n toes crossed hopeful prediction),
which trump petting one
ordinary Joe Schmoe buys
him cautious optimism, as myopia doth apprise
how democracy going to hell in handbasket
linkedin lockstep as global governments

webbed publics militarize
against youthquake (me = aging, livingsocial
media professing, wheezing... no lies
long haired pencil necked geek baby boomer)
proclaims Matthew Scott Harris approves
bad mitten (din) age and persiflage
the aforementioned broadcast before he dies.
end Jul 2020
I'm ******* Happy!

The pills they make gray.
I wanna fade away.
The tears they never come.
My doctor is so dumb.
I swear that I'm okay.
There's nothing wrong with me.
The pain it doesn't stay.
And worst of all today
Sadly I'm Happy.

I wanna cut my wrist!
I wanna be a *****!
No one can stop me.

The pills they make me numb.
They take away my fun.
Mother just let me be.
Sadly I'm happy.

I wish that I could cry.
I'd kick and scream all night.
My best friend's lying dead.
My pets haven't been fed

I go to run a mile.
Can't let go of this smile.
Want to feel different today
But sadly I'm happy.

I wanna cut my wrist!
I wanna be a *****!
The nurses stop me.

The pills they make me numb.
They take away my fun.
Doctors please let me be!
Sadly I'm happy.

I can not cut my wrist!
I can not be a *****!
Everything stops me.
The people make me numb.
Pills take away my fun.
Can you just let me be.
And sadly I'm happy.

I'll flush them all tonight.
Pink! said let's start a fight.
Would you please join me?
Else I'll feel lonely.
Grab right onto the rail.
Quickly let's hightail.
I feel so great today.

Sadly, not happily.
This aggrieved papa
of two progeny, (female)
holed himself in a
rigorously fortified fail
safe impregnable invisible monastery
barely room enough to exhale

decades before their conception,
when I hapt tubby
more hearty and hale,
though robust health a blessing -
this haint no rumored tattletail
inherited, aye oft womb min

eight if my embryonic stage
awaken as exultantly as Faneuil
Hall if late mull late mum's maternal
instincts intuited detail...
when during early/mid
April mcmlviii microscale,

and if reproductive event
(me) swelled her morale
inevitably genetics sported yours truly,
she did not put up for sale
though mentioned bajillion times before,
the psychological travail

inchoate grievous tell tale
manifestation begetting a male,
whose neurological wiring besmirched -
evidenced in throes of boyhood, a jail
assembled incrementally indestructible
******* paw pa, per entail

ling faux mutt heave puppyhood
bone a fide speculation assail
lent ruff lee size biochemical cell
cuz, ladder post utero development
exhibited tight as coiled spring hightail
ling ordinary bipedal locomotion,

whereat tenseness supposedly prevail
lent to tumble down stairs fail
ling balance even with handrail
explains being somewhat of a numbskull,
where existence analogous to wail
ling human flotsam - buoy lost at sea
rudderless and undermanned,
thus such speculation I avail.
With eyes closed,
particularly after never
mine lips ne'er touching drink
I experience replete surreal visualizations

vividly pronounced heightened, augmented
mental journey virtual realistic brink
particularly the following link
https://www.youtube.com/
watch?v=1ZYbU82GVz4

yours truly (i.e. me)
enters sweeping dream state,
whose (ahem this modest) great human
experienced way after hundredth wink
no mean feet recherché special effects
haint no rinky ****
trick the average kindergartener could think,
quite the contrary skeptical reader!

Impossible mission yours truly,
could never describe for dogness sake
no,... NOT even after I make
transition back into webbed
oft times trumpeted as "fake"
wide world of consciousness

mere seconds eyes of mine ache...
dumbfoundedly blink awake,
yet cerebral impact analogous
exiting hypothetical dark cave
eyes painfully adjust to light
no mutter me noggin I soberly shake

Socratic dialogue - described
even today (across swaths,
where silently occur
metaphorical tectonic Earthquake)
of college/university students far and wide
with mooch hoopla and rave
communicated, viz out fancy schmancy

rhyme nor reason courtesy
one cereal lactose intolerant flake
courtesy within Plato's Republic
(worth rereading even
non political science majors ought
to give revered literature fair shake.

'Course aye haint here to lecture
but moostly strive to enlighten
hmm... methinks most likely bore
extemporaneously spewing pablum
also aiming to appeal toward
self accomplishment less or more

before tonight April 23rd, 2020
becombs tomb morrow,
with unbeknownst notion I explore
which aspiration to craft daily poem
constitutes what endeavors apt (guaranteed)

to find thee into deep sleep
cocking mine ear to hear ye snore,
no matter bajillion miles away your
respective dwelling from mine -
now (at long last), similar to the night before,

(Christmas), I hightail out - with minor confession
where Matthew Scott Harris doth
strive to become substance of legendary folklore
(hence no need to utter vamoose)
with cheery bonjour!
Tubby in the calving throes
breaking free and clear
shepherding, milking, and honing
rambunctious as bovine bris
versus being stymied courtesy
cow - wordly bull aiming writer's block
for drought of creativity.

Asper this instance,
when a dearth of ideas
like a charred bait oven
finds me (a Brahms man) looking Bach
at drawing board and/or the clock
as if inspiration
can be found teasing out
whimsical child like spontaneity
recalling hickory dickory dock
rather than exacerbate
mental paralysis, akin

to an invisible vice grip,
which tension eventually
far worse than bill
lee esse ness, which former
grips with irony my chin,
I try release -
singsong restraint and chill,
ready to whip out power drill
not surprised finding sawdust,
viz of course after numbing skull
sticking head in deep freeze

or mounting temple
on dry ice, without
receiving nary a cavil
lack of creative noggin fill
intense concentration
invariably heats up "thinker"
as if being scalded,
skewered, sussed out
on a barbecue grill,
(which fixed attention),
never ever engenders

positive flow of ideas,
but absolutely ideal
for reducing a molehill
from a mountain dew,
nevertheless within ma mind,
before long prolonged
cessation to brainstorm induces ill
humor succumbing into
torturous mental state
(fall of the cider

house rules usher),
non poe whet
tick dark age,
whar ah felt jill
ted loom min hated
with panic ready to ****...
mice elf (cue Stuart Little),
cuz dem lil
cerebral cogs and wheels
malfunction for more'n a mill
yen times prompting

to scout graveyards
for fresh corpse, and lovely bones
if results rendered nill
jet over to Doctor Frankenstein,
even if aye gotta
hightail to Trans sill
vein ya, unless....
perhaps ye kind reader twill
donate yar viable gray matter tummy
(right after ya die) denny ya will
almost be him morte till!
courtesy Matthew Scott Harris
sentimental memorialized mental archive

No matter mine eldest daughter
(born December 22nd, 1996)
starred circa within storied
Matthew Scott Harris family
rendition of Breaking Home Ties.

Now interspersed with
following recherché trivia:
originally titled film made
during 1922 courtesy Sigmund Lubin,
and among “Pop” Lubin’s
Silent Film Empire
produced over 3,000 silent movies
spanning the two decades
of his film career

commencing with 1896
short film Horse Eating Hay
concluding with 1916’s
The Light at Dusk,
the final Lubin Manufacturing Company release,
his studio’s repertoire
ranged from educational films,
dramas, and disaster movies
to mysteries, comedies, and epic war films.

She "star student,"
who elected advanced placement classes
while diligent student at Harriton High School
graduated summa *** laude circa June 2015,
and matriculated at University of Pennsylvania

autumn of aforementioned year occupying
coed dormitory King's Court
English College House,
located at 3465 Sansom Street,
incidentally the first college house
to host a residential program.

Like Hill House,
said facility a freshmen-only house and
includes a dining hall on ground floor.

Our beloved progeny,
an 2019 minted alumna
relatively freshly minted
bachelor degree fortified
biomedical engineering graduate

confident, exhibits fierce political
(i.e. progressive liberal democratic opinions)
harbors piers sing quay zee
wharf fore did conscientious papasan go?

His fatherly duties
(he ably, eagerly and readily admits)
shirked, squandered, subsumed...
with marital infidelities
whereby precious energy and time,
(compromising spouse and offspring)
constituted posting and answering

(ofttimes linkedin private risque conversations
so that no family member could eavesdrop)
barring excellent outlook to access
locked bedroom door prurient exchanges
within which ****** flirtations,
(i.e. oral *******) occurred.

Understandable resentment bubbled forth
regarding promiscuous, salacious, vexatious...
in apropos overtures, plus covert canoodling
insync with chronic penury,
neither parent earned an income,
thus condemning two girls

living with refrain
***** deeds done dirt poor
overshadowed by threat
that Children and Youth Services (CYS),
would swoop down and
****** away our darling lasses.

No reconciliation forthcoming
between "Atalanta," predicated
upon her passion to run free and clear
and yours truly, who repents
atrocious, devious, hellacious... muckraking
whereby daddy's once upon a time
adorable angel, who easily
wrapped around her little finger
brings tears to mine eyes.

Twas only thru gentle prodding
"big sister" convinced youngest
to hightail to Bend, Oregon
under drafted legal guardianship
of me mine younger sibling
willingly and lovingly accepted role.
Sentient beings distraught
psyche rent asunder
courtesy false accusations
heated words exchanged like gunfire
pox upon the house of Deborah Hunter,
a vicious vindictive
girlish looking septuagenarian woman
buzzfeeding unfounded conspiracy
that the missus steals packages
ever since we moved here
at Highland Manor Apartments

force core and seven years ago
July first two thousand and seventeen
thee wife accused
unfounded rumor circulated,
she brought in snakes
courtesy whom I hashtag snaggletooth
blind as a bat
mistook large make believe
as voracious very hungry,
albeit friendly stuffed caterpillars,

nevertheless possessing
an insatiable appetite
for rumor mongers
especially for bony thin
older bonnie lass
or similar facsimile thereof
such as a small number of tenants
housed here at above mentioned
low income low slung building
formerly an elementary school

repurposed many decades ago
into accommodations
mostly catering to senior citizens,
and/or those receiving
social security disability
the latter classification pertains
to yours truly,
a psychologically tuckered out
egalitarian, libertarian, nonsectarian,
sexagenarian, solitudinarian Unitarian

frazzled, grizzled,
and puzzled wordsmith
who knows not why the wife
singled out and bullied, hastled,
intimidated, and threatened
creating hostile living environment
impacting me
indirectly caught in the crosshairs
wishing upon a star
to acquire monetary resources

to hightail out of
insufferable toxic shock
system of the down
slipping into the behavioral sink
suffocating - impossible mission
to catch my breath
brainstorming for solution
while pitched upon
horns of a dilemma,
whereat I shout out

thru the corridors of time
calling Bull Moose and Rocky
my childhood fictitious cartoon heroes
to deliver salvation out the maws
of an untenable situation
threatening life and limb
hankering for life, liberty
and the pursuit
of happiness birthing
nirvana linkedin to soul asylum.

— The End —