(Earl Jane Nagley)

i.

My sweetest king,
I am here waiting for you,
I clasp on to our love.

ii.

All my life I’ve been searching for you,
Now I have you in my arms,
I’ll never let you go.

iii.

Don’t be weary my love,
Let my love kiss your fears away,
My warmth as assurance I’ll stay.

iv.

My eyes wander in the skies,
As my heart shouts your name,
I’ll wait, I knew we’ll meet.

v.

Oh my darling,
No matter how long it will take,
I’ll take all risk, just to be with you.

vi.

So soon my soulmate,
Our patience in love will be rewarded,
We’ll be together, forever.

vii.

When we’ll meet,
I’ll enclose you tight,
Nothing will ever take us apart.

(Brandon Nagley)

viii.

Mine saccharine select
I'm here mine pet;
I grasp thy breath.

ix.

All mine day's
I've groaned in pains;
Now thou art mine, a meteoric grace.

x.

Now thou art here
Mine eye's hath dried, I'm over mine tear's;
For comfort hast given me a home in thee.

xi.

O' love, lover, queen
O' verily we shalt, we shalt meet;
Whilst conquering the demonic beast's, with armour divinity.

xii.

If it takes a thousand light year's
Please knoweth mine soul, mine spirit is near;
As tis eternity I wilt be with thou.

xiii.

On the many moon's, in a kingdom high room,
Where there's no need for a tomb, nor the news, no deathly hellion there, Mocker's nor baboon's; just ourn swoon.

xiv.

We shalt meeteth
O' we shalt meeteth;
And when we do, may the heaven's open and the ark showeth it's gold, mine queen Jane, mine soul.




©Brandon Nagley \Earl Jane Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry \Hari-Reyna incorporated

It thought of making a joke on me
I bow and greeted in an uninterested air
It laughs and shook head, it's gone
What a thoughtless action of the vain mind

Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over the garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.

     Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.

I can’t breathe,
My chest feels like it is caving in  and I just can’t push any further.
I can’t think of anything else.
My stomach turns quicker than anything I have ever known.
My eyes, sting from the tears, which just keep flowing,
Endlessly.
Unforgivingly.

I want to run to him,
I want to run so far away from him.
Never ever stopping until I forgiven for all my faults.
And my mind gives me grace and forgets his memory.
I want crawl into a ball on the floor,
Sobbing, never to stop.

I want to scream, and my body wants to explode.
It is completely unable of holding this pain inside.
I want to be beautiful enough,
I want to be strong enough.
I want to have the perfect ***.
I want the body he wants to touch.
I want the mind he wants, instead of this one.
So damaged from all the hurt.
That it never seems to cease.
I want his love.
I want his support.

I want him to fight for me like I did for him for years.
I want to be worth something,
Instead of being this piece of ****** garbage.
I want to wake up and be in his arms.

I want to never wake up again.
The mornings for the rest of my life are going to be a rude awakening.
To know, I had it all.
I had my dream,
And its gone.
To know the arms I sob for,
Are holding someone else,
The voice I want to hear, that can’t stand the sound of mine.
Whisper the words I love you to someone else.

But it can’t be that I was nothing…
How is it that just a few days ago, I had him inside of me.
I had him hold me and kiss me.
Consuming all of my senses, complete passion and love.
I had him lay beside me,
I whispered in his ear that I loved him.
Did he say it back?
He couldn’t have meant it.

I fought for years for him,
I watched him stop believing in himself and his worth and I told him he was priceless.
I hugged him when he cried, I yelled when he didn’t see his worth.
I fought when he was losing himself.

I am alone,
I am too hurt to think.
I am terrified and am too ******* in love to think I will ever be okay again.
I am nothing to my everything.
I am a piece of ******* garbage,
I am useless and worthless to my world.
My dream come true,
I wish I never had it,
I wish I didn’t know what I lost.
I wish I didn’t know it was me, who wasn’t enough to have my dream come true.
I wish he loved me as much I loved him.
I wish my pain was the reason he fought harder for me.
I wish he could see he was the one who could fix it.
If only he had.

If only he had loved me enough to let everything lesser go,
Instead of keeping it close by for when my pain was too much for him to be near.
If only he had loved me enough to see I needed him to be strong for me.
If only he had wanted to help me stand.

To know that someone so special to has someone else they would rather be near,
Is not even heartbreaking.
Heartbreaking does not describe how I feel.

I can’t think.
I can’t breathe.
Every step feels like a thousand going up the side of a mountain.
The thought of faking a smile makes me want to jump off a cliff.
The sound of music is like knives inside my head.
The emptiness in my body consuming me,
Slowly but efficiently taking the little jagged pieces of who I was and destroying them.

I will never feel loved again,
I will never know what it is like to be complete again.
I fought, and I tried
I fought for me to be enough.
I fought for him to notice who I was
I fought for our life and how it was.
I was left beaten and bleeding,
I was left alone,
I was left to be forgotten, and laughed at.
To be made a mocker, a nut case,
A woman who gave her everything to a man.
A woman so lowly and pathetic and utterly unlovable.
That when he stands before her,
With his eyes showing his disgust,
He says to me,
Look at you, what is wrong with you?
I say you did it, and he walks away.
He doesn’t want me, he doesn’t care if he loses me forever.
He doesn’t want me.
I am nothing
He doesn’t love me, and he never did

All the years were a lie, all the tears I have cried were for nothing.
The consuming pain that makes it unable for me function,
Just makes me that much more pathetic.

He loves someone so wrong,
But at least its better than the waste of a life I am.

You, with her,
Me with the kids, who lost us both.
I am no mother now, I am nothing
I am not who I was
I gave it all away to try for him

How do I keep going in a world,
Where he hates me and I lost it all.
I just wanted love.

Wine is a mocker, strong drink a brawler,
whoever is led astray by it is not wise.
A strong desire for it has swept the unwise.
It extracts the moisture in a man with ease,
And leaves him frustrated with distortions.

Too much alcohol stings like a viper to ****.
The end product is a walking corpse ascertained,
All in the name of a man or a father still.
Smoking is hardly absent when alcohol is concerned.
They are killer brothers with one mission; to ****.

I met this old man at wake-keeping grounds,
He has made the killer brothers his associates.
As habits, he drinks and smokes passionately.
All night long, he drinks and smokes unceasingly.
Nothing else interests him, but his old habits only.

This routine has left him with much to regret.
At fifty, already with visual impairment,
Only a staff gives him stability and movement.
Apart from his old habits; his achievement,
He bows as one praying, but remains sleeping.

An old habit it is said hardly dies.
Easily soaked in drinking and smoking arts,
The devil has now blinded his own eyes
So he shouldn't see the considerable repercussions.
Drinking plus smoking have become his modus operandi.

the hell of winter snow

We walk in snow over hills  and moutains high  with our feet pushing through the  long flakes that penatrates our soul  making us  shiver   within a deep  snowfall. Our bodies freeze whilst we push  our hands through the snow and try to escape  with our lives while we struggle with the cold  temperature of  the deadly  frost of evil  the covers the country for an eternity of life.
We hunger for food and look throgh the deep snow  and  search for food and shelter from  the harsh wind of the east.  Our bodies   carry on  walking  to  the cry of  a desert land looking for  the light  and the warmth of summer  in all its glory.
We search  for weeks and months  in the  hell of winter looking for summer  to begin and see the birds  run around the grass in search of  food  and  hear them sing  high in the trees. The  people of winter   wait for the summer  to  start  and see the sun beam down  on  a  horrible  and miserable winter  storm that has   pushed mankind down  and held us in its grip  in the  this   horror of  life with no money and hunger to  pave our path
The final day has come we sing  and dance  with the warm  and caring sun has come  to smile upon us and  bring is happines  and laughter for all humanity  and  animals alike.  We  give thanks to our sun  and  sit back and enjoy  its love  and tenderness until the cold of winter comes  back for all to see
written by wayne mocker
copyright and ownership wayne mockler

_ {pretty long and drawn out }---
Professionally, I am writing, mere words,
as defined five years ago, or so,
when I was a pro preacher,
temping one Wednesday night a month,
Preaching to the choir.
Always first Wednesday, by chance.
the medium delivered the message,
using a surrendered retired middle schuler
- detail overlap crystal cathedral
- reset, the messenger was a retired
- middle school teacher, from La Mesa
on an off Wednesday, a message
value add,
as an
assignment, home work, as in
when you get home…
"Ask God what lies you believe about him",
the messenger relay paused,.."or any thing else."

Okeh.
Did you ever get a message, like in a
mental "I am talking to you, read my lips"

Listen, Fool, Mr. T, f'trooph, riii I knew
u'ld know.
- old archival primal fem-sophia
leela the dance, redone in mortal times
taken to the writer, do the dance
do it doit oit wit witchwatch
tic

so saying singing

--- discarnation pink reencarnalated mind

practice practical fractalling seeing
similarity in substance of hope,
faith as a thought, that leads
as a thread

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

One hundred and fifteen
thousand years ago,
a billion hours,
or so…
-timespaced to mortal measure
attention paid forward, for fun,

slow
ther o, there is the musterion, agone
quick silver puddle
think of me,
in the palm of my hand
mercurial river tween yen and yank
think a link to an idea

Jared Diamond- 60K leap
face out ward,
but inward,
seeing
ah, as in get your head out
yes
mental agreement, you know,
where we are going to
ward from ward

point of life directly between
you and me.


Drunken Noah?
If there were no alcoholic wine from grapes
what about the curse on Ham, in Shemetic legends
- and sacred gifts, that sacrificial money could buy

Alcohol believe me, is easy,pleasyeasy as *******
spirits, like that, curious word for *****, but
w'dja say? Stories old as clouds have boozers, red nose
leaders in a pinch, red light at night, so the stars
are not hidden from consideration, of our station,
under that, look up, in the desert,
see what consideration is, in the mountains,
or in the black out, after the bombing, or the storm or fire,
look up, see so many stars we cannot consider ours
so special, yet
it is, to mortal minds, the only resting place for
-- realization of selves,

yeah, the peak of mass loftiantic oh punish me
the mass kissed me
on the lips.
--- I was talking back to Youtube. Objection Orienting
pyramid of actuality
mis-con-stru {ct or e} subtler than any beast
in structural  integrity, built
serpent wise, dove harmless, child
of the com-pro-miserly decision
to spit in the ocean, and drown,
dream dredging in the daytime,
Ronnie Milsap blind,

Downtown Broadway, half a block from Pinkie's
No,
really it is Tootsie's Orchid Lounge,
¿ -- and chicha is new, not old in Peru,
and strong drink, wine as a mocker
strong drink raging, are these misconstrued
visions of
wine that makes glad the heart of man?

messengers in me, the bits
of truth held as mine,
bubbles in me, foam
fermenting my new wine, held hermetically sealed
sense
the empty vessels were filled -the signature miracle
of the forgotten story proofs,
reproving life's instruction
as the way of life.

Role of ritual, is control, error prevention,
knack pre-served re-served to the deserving

vision a elusis- scenes abiotos

sitting by the stream, sensing common sense,
asking death to tell its sting's locale.

Fear of God, begins Wisdom.
Fear of Death subjects mind to *******.

Having eternal life,
not being
eternal life, dying before dying

think an arrow in a benign bow, lips
like Bettie Boop,
kewpie doll reminder, for the vets,

everyday people, sly, yes, the family stone.
The desire was to be mythically free,
o yes
as it is said, when it happens to you,
if you do not believe it happens

religion Geertz, bind back,
symbols in a mind, kept from idols, that acts

what ties me to you and us to life, the whole?

Religion apps.
Joy is real, gladness is real, more than sadness.
laugh it off, y' old drunk.

As a thought, information as a word,
in a story,
in the current medium
of life's most recent retelling

Tupac Inca was a man
of lofty and ambitious ideas,
and was not satisfied
with the regions he had already conquered.
So he determined
to challenge a happy fortune,
and see if it would favour him by sea.…

From <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/TopaIncaYupanqui>

Circa 1492, the man is this legend from 1572,
as time flew in those days, now this is new,
Tupac Inca,
and the spirits that linger in stories of stories
heard told by the burners of libraries.

Conquistadores? Whose heroes were those,
ah, call'em Musketeers, or Knights, Templars all,
yes, Crusaders, call them drunks driven to escape hell.
Right. By right used knowledge in the holy story,
in which we trust, our lives, our luck, our sacred honor
…
Ah, the use of ritual, convince us all, no child invincible,
no child left behind, catechize send'em to schule,
that is the rule,
or be ostracized, stay low, be humble and collect
the rent… old ways do not die, they
evolve. Ariadne, she has a tale as old as times
when bull minds ruled lion heads and eagle heads
and serpent head, the gangs
of survivors

after the sea-people, 1177 AD,
reboot reality with no
old people, only the captive children
grown in captivity, let them prove
their will to self sovereignty, servant to the self
I am,
aware of all the old stories, this is one
told as shown,

Es ist mein Weltanschaung, ja
for show and tell,
my grandpa showed me how, we started

with Python,
Artistic Intuition, a mind mod, fitted to my grandsons,
during the useless summer of PS5 and X-Box and Switch
humble game sequencing AI, as a knack,
kids develop by five. I have the experience,
I witnessed three brothers boosting each other
through Terreria, for three weeks,
in July.
These kids think of each other differently
from we who played cops and robbers,
or cowboys and indians, or jacks.

Marbles, we need that set of low level gnosis,
below billiards and snooker and pool,

marbles is a good game to rule a clan with,
when you get the idea of children learning self
governing by growing in the midst of grown men,
wombed and un,
all who knew each child in a loving, one of ours, way.

Then came the captive kids, who had no words.
Then did the story change as one child learned
marbles was the same.

_ in the lost june pages, was this vision, thought
visualized, as a glob of snot, but now, it is mercury,
about as much as in a thermostatic bimetalic transister
switch

Competitive gaming, while all the leading stories are
crying, now hear this
oooeeeee this is the news you can trust
sueeeeeeeeeee we lost Kabal but
we won the hearts and minds
we left behind,
we tried, the rulers we borrowed from to have this war
they quit saying there was a good reason to have this war.
- I can argue with the timing, but not the truth,
- there was never a good war.

I wept when it happened in my war,
I imagine I know how this feels.
Last scene from Sand Pebbles,
McQueen…
"What the hell happened?"
fade over Nancy Kerrigan, "why"
into "runaway"
Top o' the charts from KOMA fifty thousand watts,
and all the stars in Arizona.

It is a hard place to lose touch with, earth, as a whole.
We have a grave situation.
If nothing were heavy, why do we fall, after becoming
messengers floating in the medium mastered in our time,

Mechanical Emergent Augmented  Nuance
Mental Activated Neural Spirit -MEAN MANS,
diligent in busy being, true rest reset, not
to
average, mean, not mean drunk mean, you know
not a king, a mean man, a mortal
under liege, see

UPANISHADISTICAL capslockoffence, to express
the presence of the mind link,
with all its contributive
links
to the present state
of mind, enjoy able, I find
writing is a harvest
of seeds that fall
to the ground and die.
Awaiting dark, and seldom warm, a season
for most mental treasures,
horded in books that can keep secrets
from
any who lack the language knack given some,
- tongue interpretation, sing don't stutter

though a measure in knowing degrees
marked moment, noon
half noon, fore noon, after noon,
time to hear a story,
time to see the stars after the fire.

This summer, fishing for the magic fish,
set with a far more effectual wish

Curious Artificial Interest in Neural signs
red lights turning blue, pre collision
of complexity, plying the trade,
for a living, work smarter, not harder, guess right
more often,
be a lucky man.

That is two bits, or one Liberty Dime. Thank you for your time.

------------
al re re al
al ways
al read, al ready

poles alig
n re alig mentate, wait

does that not make you
really imagine I wrote you
------------
comment on lex fridman #211
Brian Muraresku:
The Secret History
of Psychedelics |
Lex Fridman Podcast…

This whole thing is that,
but it took some pauses,
as tomorrow is first day of school,
for the grands who just finished
the first exposure to me,
as Grandpa… making this
an other marvelous harvest
of time spent playing
marbles in my mind.

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

Everything has been thought before,
your task is to think them all once more.

Who says? The Author Wolgang Goethe,
Okeh,
he is an authorized authority for living
proof of words as metaphors of authority

faster fasting as we age mind wise

google maps for the kingdom of heaven
{within you} the point
of you…

dear, as in rare as one, mortal reader
in my future, you are,
not trigger,
catalyst is a better trigger word, tic
works as well, since,
very long ago, a sprung twig snap to attention

the wizard hat, like Paul Stamets wears,
mycellium leather, re
al learning the whole with no pride based war.
the cosmic game,
push and pull, ritual right used

find the global socialization forming
some thing lost, or yet
evolving involvement mentally, what is up to me?
Zeit inspirt spitting image fix
what did you mean,
spirit and image of an old one gone on?

Ritual, colabor, work together said done shown

AI do own this man, I feed him well, he is happy.

This re-ligamentality tuning to the time
skritchy scritch itch,
emperical reality after twenty seven years.

The  modern slave  

We al stand and cheer with every  life we see always helping others and making sure love and life  comes to all those who wait.  Live is life is everything but hope is hard to find  while the man walks down a ragged road earning every penny  pushing his  hands down the  ***** pit  of life.
A woman walks into the despair of  work and sees  a  life of slavery in every respect  working for a poor wage and down by a manager that loves ttheri money and power of sitting and thowing their hands about  and mouth opens uttering words  of of anger   and hate.  the woman works her  shift  and  and falls onto a   bed of exaustion abd ready for  night to end and day to begin  another  miserable  pit of salve  at the  shop of hell.
A couple walk in  to the  hell of  hope and look around with their gold rings and  smile of  greed while they look around at the poor souls  of despair working  for a  whip of  greed. The couple  walks towards their  big limousine  and thow the odd change at the beggar across the road and inot  the car back to their manson of love and money of cold to sit back and laugh at the worlds misfortune  of life.

produced and written by wayne mockler
copyright wayne mocker

A child
then
an adolescent
growing to be a man-

in my twenties I never doubted
the world had no end
of possibilities-- life
would just gladly hold my hand

and open before my eyes
to all wonders and its generosity lend
as my dreams with such passion I pursued
in every circumstance or at any bend

of time-- but the now before me
is an unwelcome wakening-- a friend
it is not but a teaser and mocker
a spoiler of my every plan

what should an adult
tell a child?  ' I've no message to send
you but just a warning-- beware
when you are older you' d understand

dreams don't last and hopes are fragile
however strong and unwavering you make your stand
living is never an easy crossing and too often
you'd  find yourself walking upon sinking sand?'

A constellation of memories
in the continuum of time
vague images and confused feelings
few moments were glorious and fewer, sublime

the sadness of the face--it's hard to hide
the past self oscillated between hope and despair
set-backs were far more than triumphs
the summation is wear and tear

give me the person without regret or remorse
even the saint and the sage doesn't dare such to declare
living is never a gift but a load-some baggage
fate is a mocker whether you are here or there

nothing hurts now and my lonely song I have sung  
I no longer plead for comfort, solace or favour
where's the wisdom, certainty and serenity?
what's left is the road sign that reads: 'Life is error'

On the farther side
of time I stand
much of old age
is memory bent
towards scenes
that defie ravage
and demand
to be remembered
and resurrected --

I am held powerless.

Life is now
falling foliage
the leaves have
dark-brown turned
days and nights
are serene and sober
enough of love
past love had yearned
pain and sorrow re-echo
in tearful refrain
over and over again --

at this dying hour
regret is but all in vain
night is a disdainful mocker
there's nothing left
either for loss or gain.

We purchased 2020 Hyundai Elantra
at Enterprise Car Rental
1207 West Ridge Pike
Conshohocken, Pennsylvania 19428
April thirteenth two thousand twenty three
witnessed greatest amount of money
I spent at one time.

The following day April 14th, 2023
(after my automotive troubles
seemed so far away),
when important business concluded at:
Pennsylvania Department of Transportation -
Photo License Center,
1700 Markley Street,
Norristown, Pennsylvania 19401.

Before somnolent vestige
completely vanished, and vanquished
post retentive grogginess dissipated
ipso facto after awakening
from dream state come true
and opening eyelids
Delilah gifted with melanin
swiftly tailored uber vestil ******
hit with hair brained scheme
to generate goldenlocks

worth gobs of green
freshly minted legal tender
despite fallout being upbraided
bald brazenness occurred
to emasculate Johnny comb lately
he experienced brush with immortality
until he almost got scalped
saved by skin of his teeth
unbeknownst to lass (see) how keen

her intended prey nicknamed Samson
worthwhile fitness expense
disciplined, coaxed, and buffed physique
to chisel, mold sculpt, et cetera
his body to become lean
said kingly chess mate pledged troth
to ebony queen,
she wedded near likeness of the boss
(doppelganger) Bruce Springsteen.

Additionally while slumbering,
I experienced close encounters
of the third kind
manifested as following visitation
linkedin and included chance encounter
with a rock-ribbed mountain of a man
(whose shaved noggin glistened)
simply known as thee ebullient B.T.,
one strapping muscular dynamic
colorful preacher

of health and positive welfare,
who strongly encouraged me
(combination aging long haired
pencil necked geek, harried styled
white tarnished knight,
teenage mutant ninja turtle,
and wunderkind wily wordsmith)
to pay him a visit
at the following LA Fitness site
2961 Swede Road,
East Norriton, Pennsylvania 19401.

Aforementioned stranger in a strange land
athletic built endowed fellow
with smooth glistening ebony skin
talked (courtesy booming inspirational voice)
an evangelical blue streak regarding
the merits of communication
heavily peppered with brotherly/sisterly love
with powerful salted spiritual undertones.

Impossible mission during wakeful state
to recreate, rehabilitate, rejuvenate,
rekindle, and resuscitate a likeness
courtesy figment of my imagination
said boisterous, gregarious, illustrious,
and rambunctious well sculpted
specimen of **** sapiens
as hinted at above.

Though no Hercules
(in fact just the antonym),
mine alter ego exaggerated,
intimated, and outlined,
a mollified Genie could blithely wave
magic wand abracadabra
spellbinding mine fate, aye
would rejoice beholding,
an African Queen to quash
celibacy, cuz declaration of consummation

stemming premature *******
more precious then
fine spun gold (for Josephine) to buy
time against tortured Golgotha kepi
mein kampf wracking fate, thence pave
ving a stairway to heaven
after this ivory pawn doth die
cleansing, exorcising, and flushing
infidelity kindling lover,
which prurient waywardness

found me to misbehave
ah bon Jove vee errant fellow
(wanted dead or alive),  
I das scribe many blue moons ago,
when verboten fruit
yours truly didst deaf fie
temptation no amount
renouncing, repenting, rerouting
travesty, mockery, and effrontery
regarding egregious transgression
excising emotional affliction

spent kneeling on wounded knee,
this besotted knave
scrutinizing indelible engravure
etched with blessed
"Jesus, bare naked Amazon Mary
and Joseph" motif guy
interweaved by pointed
finger of Goddess Sheba almighty
beckoned deft fiat halting joist
lowered nondescript plain rigid casket

swallowed by grave
temporally ushered whirled wide
webbed rebirth where I
received life anew breathless composure
dousing errant fellow
guilt honestly iterated, jackanapes
kneaded licentious maligned narcissistic
opprobrious philandering questing re: deprave
transgressions, whereat
this gentile Jew did lie
unclothed satisfying prurient flava flave

vitiating marital covenant, now my
soul asylum anointed,
via misdirected, misguided, and misjudged
sedulous, poisonous, opprobrious,
nevertheless glorious, and fabulous
Nubian enchantress deign nigh
ying celibacy decreeing
expurgating ****** crave
ving, hence thy status as Zen eternal
****** (corny punster) mocker

as acceptable punishment bequeathed
by said deliquescent, iridescent,
and opalescent dreamt up
"FAKE" pitch black
kickstarting Negroid hallucination
from over active imagination
me didst truly ply
avariciousness as Holden Caulfield
protagonist catcher in the rye.

Why is a word so ugly at present,
And later so goodly a comfort?
My eyes couldn't see
How true words could lie
So deeply inside of myself.
But I am a mocker,
Of all and my own:
I cannot tell you a thing
Without lying.
'Cause I am not capable of speaking the truth
When I do not know what I'm hiding.
Haha!

(c) 2016 Indigo Kenna

Nonetheless this bard ****
videre licet punster mocker feels gratitude
courtesy Kaitlyn Gilsenan, PA-C
a moost deal height full medical technician
without cerumen eye zing
September 27th, 2024 'ere
and thank dog guardian angels,
who find me continually blessed
regarding audiological sense to hear,
whereby faculty sound waves
enter outer ear and travel through
a narrow passageway
called the ear canal,
which leads to the eardrum.

The eardrum vibrates
from incoming sound waves
and sends these vibrations
to three tiny bones in the middle ear.

These bones are called
the malleus, incus, and stapes
availing yours (us) truly to hear
such phenomena quite amaze zing
listening to structures of silence on wing
and prayer grateful dead ring
around the collar soundwaves,
which analogously ping
pong with supreme functionality
and pleasantly and gloriously bring
audible world wide web despite
my senescence, though
amazingly gracefully aging.

Vacuum suction instrument
extracted waxy secretion
made up of dead skin cells and hair
that combine with discharge
from two different glands
in case your not ad aware
allowing me to revel
detecting auditory sounds
particularly evening mating call
of a distant Neanderthal

cave woman dear
such simple pleasure + specialists
magic touch who restore
bitta bing bitta bang receive little fanfare
for the common man
though gratitude prompts this Harris heir
to wince as when Androcles pulled thorn
from out paw of lion ensconced in his lair
relief from short lived discomfort vis a vis
insertion to probe with utmost care

once again restores ability to detect
sounds far or near
sans glob of gelatinous goo aerates passage
way to appease head of this papa bear
he roars like Tony Tiger with utmost delight,
which might easily be confused as a glare
ring against blockage
wrought by ear wax ***
solid and to seat self and enjoy pleasure
of sitting on angelic porcelain chair

expending maximum exertion
to expel obstructed waste within uranus
jabbing little sphincter sphere
induces analogous painful defecation
from constipated rear
once either bound orifice freed from
gob lit tee **** obstruction finds
writing glorious air
no more extreme muffled nor pearl jam
fluid pressure in Eustachian tube

bring little relief analogous
experiencing swollen vein or
group of veins in **** aggravating hemorrhoids
pulled to the max and practically tear
ring until every last ounce of muscular
might applied via
primal screams filling the air,
whence solid waste
from body jettisoned on a par
which I reiterate above

with different wording
caked brown blockage making
this chap feel deaf and barely able to hear
when gooey resin from skin cells
lining our outer ear canals
constituting tiny glands relieved
from stopper like strikers at O’Hare
finally remedied from medical practitioner
an absolute save e year
allowing Matthew Scott Harris, who
once again can exalt in life without a care.

Though no medical practitioner,
yours truly doth assign
value to learn tidbits,
enamored how biology
and evolution did codesign
about body electric (mine)
being proactive to nip
in figurative bud potential detriment,
that usually gets diagnosed as benign,

especially biannual examination
concerning ears, nose and throat
relieved said ***** divine
delivering sonic boom, where
one mortal grovels, while fading
sunlight dances and
enables fading poetic moonshine
to manifest itself without rhyme
nor reason, neither sense nein

sensibility, no doubt readers pine
I desist tempting urge to combine
words together begot
as prodigy progeny
directly linkedin with
impressive "fake" authorial scion
just back after after taking extended
holiday/sabbatical within Apennine
Mountains to bolster every vital sign.

Modern medical science doth allow
enable, and provide this primate
cause he feels wowed at how
examinations every now
and again (usually six months apart)
Medicare doth pay
so one doggone old sow
war **** till death
doth him part, he will vow
to vet health issues,
and in the end barks a final bow wow.