i'm a selfish muggle
i wouldn't be any better.
because you're mine
every part of you every piece is meant to me mine.
your smile
your breath
your kiss
your hug
your laugh
your voice
your eyes that sparkle everytime you heard our song.

Completely befuddled
We fake it as muggles
The abuse we face alone
Buries confusion in our bones

The siren places fear in our hearts
She can be ours
If she wants the part
We can get ahead
By abusing those who would give their bread

In this we are all the same
Many silent murderers with unimportant names
Psychopaths on angry paths
Hell bent on *******

Would you let them continue to dictate the conditions?
Do you trust the statisticians?
We are the result of the easy decision
The sagging construction of constant derision

Another man's home subject to intrusion
A stance is required to end the delusion

They're not here to protect you

It's all an illusion!

Crime and other violent thoughts are at an all time low,
What exactly happen the evening of December

I was brushed upon,
I was sought after,
There were muggers and muggles,
And I saw my life flash

Déjà vu but still a feeling foreign,
Those eyes were distant
Weapons-- uncommon
I've seen those eyes before,

They are eyes I've longed for
My protector, those are eyes of my Prophet
My savior
guardian and princess of the Serengeti

Cling to uncertainty and name you Visual

Some days I wish I were an X-men
and not just an ordinary mutant.
Some days I wish I had Magician
level magic like Bink,
just enough to negate other's.
But then I look around;
The Irish and English don't have it.
The Pakistanis and Indians don't have it.
The Chinese and Taiwanese don't have it.
The Hutu and Tutsi don't have it.
The neighbors in Bab Tabbaneh and Jabal Mohsen,
don't have it.
Why should I have it?
We’re all just a bunch of Muggles.

Maybe it's a good thing I don't have superpowers.
I look around and in fits of frustration,
in bouts of rage, I might destroy all the Husnock.
I'm kinda glad now my only mutations are thoughts.
Thoughts that I put here,
viral like - infective memes - hemorrhagic e-fever.
Outbreak? Snow Crash? Virulency? Survival rate? Epicenter?
Futile epidemiology because I know
exactly what and where I am.

guggle buggle
the skirts and muggles
meager or muddle
                                         like 2 tones
a twilight
       almost sweetly
a sweating majesty(it broke trebleing uncorked femurs
briskly pattering the swilling silt
the siltish swill
                                 )by a massive
the very sea was outward and upward and forever and ever and ever & E,V'eR;
            !
             '
            "
              .
                '
               "
            .
              ,
                   '
                        .
                  ,          
                             .  
                                        '
                                                    ,
                                                               .

some people are oceans
some people like puddles
some people are wizards
yet others like muggles

but don't dim your colours
for those deeming them bright
there will always be someone
in love with your light

when the politician crooned
and made a mistake
today is today
and he goes out this way
he takes a picture with a fictional villain
and pretends he’s a saint

makeshift melodies
working their way through the mansion
of the ******* bunnies
more preoccupied than the rest of us
more
preoccupied

junkyard schoolboys
walking into desert islands
and ******* magical spells
only to come out
horrendous, ugly muggles
useful only for punching tickets
at the next show

juniper berries
crisping up a salad
and making it sweeter to swallow
lunches that are bittersweet
because of the conversation
you couldn’t swallow

evergreen trees
standing the test of time
in the middle of a long
deserted island
evergreen trees
in a deserted island
providing pin cones
for the restless settlers
trying to prepare their dinners

Dropped out of college before the Start.
I used to want to be something smart.
Didn't have the money or heart.
I only have passion for art.
Now I'm just pushing a cart.
Just want to pay rent
"Wasting my talent"
Man, stop, take a hint.
All I'm tryin' to do is vent.
This pen is my accent.
The paper my identity.
Im a new entity...
Its not we.
Its just me, don't you see?
Doing me.
These lines make me feel free.
The paint my portkey.
But its not wizardry.
Just muggles.
Struggles.

Step back
and place your hands on the ground
where i can see them

We end the way we begin
our lessons are set to renew themselves
to diversify we must try something new

Reuse and relearn
our outlook is our own to play with

Let's defy gravity
smile at our insanity
remedy our insoluble arguments

Dance in the cloak of darkness
superhuman struggles
like finding love
among the muggles

Voices, broken in the boughs
sleepwalking on nulled roads
echoing in the rain, and
the swings, empty rocking in the winds:
dry withering to budding, scenes
we never saw, until now
the everyday season;
Long since time stopped and
vanished behind the screens;
Then, can I call you, 'The Day'?
Echoes in the alleyways and
the dreary skies all the same;
But I must mark The Day: now
I chore, then endlessly refocussing
juggle as broomed go we muggles;
Know who's lasered on next?
Worry not, as big realms have
no pockets but ours;
For the ledgers must roll on;
Unmarked, we may go, like this
The Day, BUT: now work galore

Place your head on my chest,
Rest your eyes,
We don't need to see what's on the outside
I'd lay my head down on your shoulder
Light weight, that's how I feel you to I
But this boulder weighs way more on my own.
You struggle like I struggle, no magic answer
Just muggles muddling, I'm ninety-nine pieces
To a hundred piece puzzle, see?
But even if I found that piece,
I'd find a new one to not fit me.

I'm the fabric to a blanket no one could crochet,
No needles could thread these stitches
I'll always lay incomplete at the bottom of the bed.
Erasing the end of my words to remain unread
Wishing on stars that have already burned out
Hey dad, you proud?
Look how broken I turned out.
I'll always be lame that's what they said
Erasing the end of my words to remain...

8:56 PM

Seein' faces which no longer exist,
an eerie army of them,
how have I known such death
and yet still draw breath
mayhap a few were my fault,
forever haunted shall I be
especially as none of them deserved it
and i'm still livin laughin dancing free
it's kinda hurtin in here
tho it's basically just whinin
btw, where's my ******* beer
or at least a bottle or three of whine
my mind only sits still if forced to
and that requires more than you
will ever Noe how to do
it's dancin dangerous circle cycles at the moment
not the bestest ever tour for this version of clint
visions videos vicious internal angst bleeding my psyche
introversion reversion is ******'ing me
this soup bowl hath been poisoned
and i ain't prepared for such pain
at last i'll have always have my marbles of blue
and my die which with Bob will always crush you :)
which kiss do you most miss
cuz I heave several on that list
some of whom I've never even tasted
but "maybe someday" is imagination unwasted
reset myself so many times
when is it too many times?
precious little keeping me here
and I'm not much in touch with fear
the **** it ******* Clint
is ******* his inner Clinton
*** on
let's blow this scene
...money shot...
….and...out...


10:31 PM

which noose can you not cut loose
what's the soul scar you can't uncarve
or are you like me...
no fav among the many
I don't like space shuttles
but I do love muggles
well, a few of them
a few more on a whim
are your dreams too often screams
do you shout racial epithets at yourself
are you an ex genius boy
or a gorgeous-brain girl
who's tired of this toy we call our world
I hate saying I hate
but I hate all kinda ****
I used to Love to Love
but i just don't be feelin it
my blue rose hath decayed
its romantic spirit been betrayed
somewhere sometime my luck
said it doesn't even wanna ****
so fornicate yourself world
this boy beyond bent at bein whirled
I AM the best ME this boy ever been
but I'm just still just a Clint to my Clinton
c'mon man, I get it
hahahaha
but can't you quit
you win, i'm blah
this joke is older than I am
yet you insist on the retell
what else do you want from me
do you think I haven't visited my home in hell
when I am Positive Patient Polite people are joyful in their interactions with me...the potential to be a genuinely impactful presence in a meaningful moment of their life which they will remember and subsequently relive with me, pulling me into their experience as one of the cruxes, is the reason I actually have smile wrinkles from work even tho much of it is soul draining torture...not triple P at the moment....
how many dead people do you Noe???
many of you more than I certainly.
did it begin early?
does it continue late?
I don't want to be Dead
but it is seriously a freakish occurrence that I'm not
the statistics don't support it
better purer truer souls have seen their bodies left to rot
I knew my brain was insane at 5 yrs old
when the people studying me
told me my Intelligence Quotient was BOOM
and I said I Noe
but I can't respect your opinion
cuz this is a junior college room
so *******, yo
(plus my sister siblings were all so off the chart genius that I had to read at least a book a day from Kindergarden until HS, when I read a book a day cuz I wanted to F U, just to keep up with my understanding of the world beyond our block...if you have never read The Phantom Tollbooth, you really should, and you should do so with your kids...and if they're not old enough for Harry Potter or Tolkien, then read to/with them the Ursula K. Le Guin Earthsea Trilogy)
ouch
there's not a band aid for me
ahhh ****
I thought I was beyond thee
what was once my smile
is now a grisly grin
a snarky sneer
anything to contain the pain.
I'm sorry if you're sad
it might not be that bad
I can be the bestest silliness you've ever sampled
just hold my bald head as your button gets tongue trampled
and, ummm, yeah.....


11:30 PM

can you shake it??
the voice which quakes you?
who was your 1st?
not your 1st ****
not even your 1st kiss
simply the 1st set of eyes
blue, brown, green, heterochromatic (ooooohh Aly)
or the 1st smile, lips
the 1st voice, laugh
the 1st statement from a mind
a spirit in kind
which drew you into within
made that one the again and again and again
Did you ever Breakfast at her Tiffany's??
and if not is it still a favorite fantasy??
shhhhhh,
do you feel that???
that's a kiln absolutely killn it,
the dolls all Princess Wavin at their Kat
I can't get away with such silly sentimentality,
she'd most likely just make me smack me
you can't ME OW the Kat
unless you put it in a Tat :)
Does it still matter?
Is it still the solo
on your soul guitar?
Or is it merely whatever
couldn't give less of a ****
but wish them the best of luck
Maybe she was the entire worth of your world
I've been there once or thrice or more
In which case you can still hear her whisper
and your heart hates you for not winning her
Now without her, again, whoever whatever
drifting falling, alone again, whatever wherever
and....midnight don't mess around
time to get some sleep...hopefully super sound

It's the waiting that gets you
when your sat on that chair
it muggles your mind
to that long vacant stare

When you stop and listen
you can hear the clouds rushing by
the trees bending in their wake
a ginger cat sat on a wall watching
an old man shuffling along with his stick
and the mother in charge of a pram and baby
weaving to get past
thank you she says as the old man leans on the wall
next to the cat who was watching

Then the clouds disappear
and that world floats away
who's next a voice whispers
as the band starts to play

She thought she'd be a protagonist
When the agony of tragedies and hopes
Found home in her bloodstreams
Laid as a side character in a eyes of the world
Which barely had anything to do
With the scared story
A reality weaved by muggles
A refused truth
Of a fortress
Standing still and quiet
Between a vast dark forest
That no one dared to adore
Little did they know
She wasnt in the story
But a Story itself
A protagonist tht doesn't end
On the opinions of critics
A protagonist stands as protagonist
Ruling all the rage within
If anyone unsee her force
That is on the reader

Fruitless effort squeezing figurative juice
Pandora called triggering
helter skelter to get loose
necessitating Bullwinkle J. Moose
to usher at yours truly
(an aspiring wordsmith) vamoose!

Hey ****** ****** the cat and the fiddle
went off to see a crooked man and woman
whilst cowards jumped over moo-ving little
pair of mismatched
calf fully ambling muggles,
who both walked from scan
din navy yah,
(nor-way could action be stopped
otherwise den-mark would be left),
where dog goniff imps
jousted with brittle

shaky spears, den did mark
neither path to norse east, where pan
demon yum erupted over adult
playing monkey in the middle
and bear witness to such sport
as dishabille donned dude named Evan
spoon fully ladled insults adrip
with indignity of loosing - bubbling spittle
spluttering trumping monitor
to claim game rigged,

which assault whipped a ban
she against being accosted
from mish shuga,
a towering ebony Amazonian,
who didst tittle
late tad evincing groan nips quibbling
over what appeared to be a van
knit tee fair of bruising egos essentially
fighting for dominion
over right to urinate i.e. piddle
and defecate in non

gender specific restrooms wan
ever the urge
to empty the bladder or ****** -
(even if poo peas, the size of a skittle)
fraught major firestorm ratcheting,
synonymous with dandy rhyme
blues clues without reason -
dime a dozen cents less ditty -
snap, pop, and crackling
as hot cakes on a griddle.

Actually, the above
juiced a freaky Friday sideshow
displaying, hurraying, layawaying,
portraying and tracklaying dis-obeyed
rubric of respect, where decent
honorable linkedin maturity laid
waste to politesse, whar all stops pulled
sans presidential debates shade
no light on meaty issues,
but mudslinging as faux hit parade
housing and trumpeting an offer

to make America Great Again
thru yelping vanguard,
uber up lyft promulgating,
and intimating 4 years
times 52 long weeknd rock'm sock'm
bash re: hollow wean
qua vamp pyre avast
state farm riotous quacking,
whence life, liberty
and the pursuit of happiness decayed

into growling pedigreed mishmash made
for kickstarter bullied
prize **** fighters
indeed jimmying stockade
bag of tricks viz contesting scalawags,
tearing like rabid animals inlaid
with bared teeth,
and mouth frothing foam,
who just barely evade
coming to fisticuffs,

while presenting scathing hair-raid
nada so hill a re: us political pugilists
making up rules on shutterfly
spotify, and not afraid
toot change horses in midstream
to fix outcome of game
of thrones spouting
unfair sands casino trade
thus, billy-clubbing husband
of opponent indulged

in many a rapacious escapade
smear tactics and mistruths
essentially, he sung hiz zone
battle hymn of republican party,
a mockery and charade
driving donnybrook conspiratorial
billed Jefferson muttering arcade
guarded by ensconced
male and female Petsmart Weimaraner,
attired in a Thom malt chew wuss
Nast tee getup

elephant and donkey costumes respectively
while viewers entertained,
who succeeds as next blade
runner, and earn chance
to run country into the ground,
then a fancy feast for morticians,
one world wide webbed graveyard
moss lee tubby
taken back by Mother Nature,
thee indomitable ace of *****.

I'm a Potter girl
In a Potter world
We have fanfics
And it's fantastic

Boys with ginger hair
Muggles everywhere
Transfiguration
Life is your creation

Massacre this strategy.
Im practically a genius
In a parallell reality
Floating through dimensions
While im coping with dimensia
I could roast you ******* peanuts
But cant eat without my dentures.

Im a mentor to These muggles.
You struggle with daily life....
I turned my **** into a war machine
You just mad *** iron man is white.
...

Bully me, yours truly
never ordained, gifted, or blessed
with mien mean characteristic
evoking, jump/kickstarting,
representing, nor zapping
friend or foe courtesy fiery intimidation
if anything aura, charisma, dogma, and karma
emanating, issuing, and oozing out
body electric of one heretofore bookish fellow
immediately facilitates characterization
hashtagged lucubration and manifestation of quietude.

Though true agitation transparent to passersby
soul asylum of sexagenarian beleaguered
with invisible mailer daemons
that hound the psyche
of this doggone muttering bonafide wordsmith.

In argot of polymath author of these words,
(the modestly noteworthy
opportunistic, poetic Matthew Scott Harris)
essentially he describes himself
as a generic simple Simon,
who never met a pieman
his mellow outward demeanor
belies, harbors, and represses
a quaking, raging bull, and seething
tempestuous storm beneath the calm,
which faux placidity
shields a woke monster
(donned in Harris tweed and Scottish tartan)
mashing everything in his wake
courtesy huge feet
resembling puff daddy bear paws.

Though found out later in life
than most muggles
aforementioned humble
human like bipedal hominid
discovered extraordinary ability
to morph from dimwitted dork dweeb
into grim faced, frightful,
albeit gentle unassuming
pygmy up by the petard giant extraordinaire,
which latent superpower
never served him in good stead
to ward off cruel classmates and peers
tormenting teasing taxing
terrorizing treatment til tears
trickled down my cheeks.

Every now and again,
when some nasty brutish beastly lout
dares to utter colorful invectives,
a gradual transformation
slowly but surely occurs
within every baited cell
(automatically summoned, triggered,
and unveiled courtesy a bitterly
deadly force to be reckoned with
deep within these lovely bones)  
witnessing sudden bravado and daring do
additionally helped along after I discretely
chomp on powder milk biscuits
(the secret recipe only known
to forbidding Norwegian bachelor farmers)
giving an unexpected
judicious Hawaiian punch
to the loathsome miscreant
(never knowing what hit him)
knocking said **** out in cold blood.

Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch
Bang in the first measure
Came the congenital seizure
Skewing the first invention from scratch.
The campfire skied its sparks
Into the ghost-ridden void,
The skittish tchotchkes
Of paradox and entropy
Quirks and tics as dumb as bricks
Until a headstrong mongoloid
Started groping for rhythm
In the quavering spasms.

Oh, but it was a jawdropper
A bang-up tour-de-force
A horrorshow time-warper
Of Luke and Kirk and spice,
The good apple ran the table
Till the old goat hacked the matrix
And the young hawks did their mind-tricks
Of a tessellated cat’s cradle...
And paparazzi made the odyssey
From planets Claire to Z
To dish how cosmic *******
Trysted protomolecule
As the major ghosted ground control...
In all, a very large array
Of bingeworthy groundhog days.
Lukewarm confabulation
Of the smoking embers
From the essential tremor
Ceaseless oscillation
Between good cop and bad copper.

And the girl scouts chorus
With cheeks full of S’mores
“For all of your fables
Of hobbits and hubbles
And sabering at windmills
You will never untie the volition
Riddled into the convulsion,
Nor how the campfire kindles
Nor be one of us.
You will always ***** the pooch
Halfway to the paw-paw patch.”

Nurse Dipso-Etheromaniac
And Dr. Thorazine-Brainiac
Shoved their two-part invention
Cold turkey into the clockworks,
Cleft lip
Fetal eyes
Flipper-fingered
Riddled with the shakes
Cold-shouldered him to another dimension
Where muggles punk ETs,
And their whiskey wizards
Serve up mock elixirs
Not some hair of the dog to undistemper
The secondhand DTs,
His doggo superpower.

Bill Grogan’s goat
(Bam bam bam bam!)
Was feeling frisky
(Bam bam bam BAM!)
Chased three red skirts
Across the galaxy...
“I knew you were one of the ***** boys
But why do your hands shake like that?
They flipper and gibbet all over the keys”
The sour-smelling teacher spat.

And the mean girls echoed
With tongues of acid
“See how they lurch and squirm!
You will never get to the paw-paw patch
You will never find dear little Susie
She will never teach you to hulu
And you will never two-step
With dear old Johnny
With fists of wiggle worms.”

He touched off the fireworks
Torching all your pomp and cirque
In some skullduggery
Of **** and villainy.
I, Dropout
Outcast
Clonetrooper
Mutineer
Hitched a ride north of the watchtower
Where imperial walkers with hooves of ice
Stomped the land flat, and late-blooming
Summer never shakes the phantom menace
Of the winter that is always coming.

Somewhere in the interstellar distances
Of Kantian prairie perturbed by auroras
Like those night-blooming skyflowers
I glimmered back into existence.
I drank with wildings dropped with the dead
And vaped the contrails of the mad rocketeers
(Kid Rambo, Def Louie, Jedi Freddy and Manny
Steampunk Sal and Wig Out Johnny)
But never found sweeter ******
Than the next bridge to burn.
I, callow flamethrower
Of Shiva, the destroyer.

Marshall Gunpowder Jehoshaphat Miller
The bad apple of the force
Hatchet-faced and porkpied
Dead by ****** suicide
Born again old-schooler,
Packing halitosis
From ossified canon
Skywalked me down.
Gospeled me like Luke
And knee-capped me with a curse
Shame; the oldest mind-trick in the book.
I served out my prodigality
In Ludovico therapy
Which for a half-life, somewhat took.

Headlong into retrograde
I crashed the zero-sum arcade
Fed a quarter into the supercollider
And with some crazy tic of the wrist
Spooked the ball’s trajectory
So it champagne supernovaed
And spat out the shabby ghost
Of a birthright lottery.
Thirteen golden statues.
But as the digits flipped
And the mission crept
As it does to one and all
Faster than a cannonball
I flashed back to renegade.

And the made girls chorused,
With cheeks full of Botox,
From their partial-view suites
And partner-track perks
Of bottomless cups
Of shut the **** up,
“You nearly made the grade, you!
But then you had to mouth off job-hop Hulk
Out, which finally betrayed you.
Now Security Guard Miller
Will escort you off the premises
For a reckoning with your nemesis
Regret, the silent killer.”

True, for a season I was a bluepilled moon
Marooned with space junk
And cypherpunk
Doomscrollers
Of deadend might-have beens,
Like the lunar sonata’s
Primal whisper of futility,
Until it tripolars
Into ultraviolent agitato
And hits escape velocity

Now loosed from orbit of the Goldilocks planet
I tumble through space in dumbstruck rapture
Of hurricaned stars and thundercloud nebula
I tremble in the thousand-parsec stare
Of the headless horde of dark riders
That stampede the stony hobbits,
Through the looking-glass of lightyears past
I see monstrous galaxies in ungainly copulation
Blushing Hiroshimas of atrocious release
And multi-sunned planets where misbegotten
Beings shudder into self-consciousness,

While I drift toward the event horizon
To be gobbled into the enigma
With a little gasp of gamma
Hammerstricken wires frisson.
Where the eleventh measure of the first invention
Counterclockwise corkscrews
Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch,
After a very long array of groundhog days
My skeleton crew bunch into alignment
Like that hunch of spooky entanglement
Or just possibly like that eternal dissonance
Quelled by a quanta of true arrogance,

In a clockwork grotto
Grows a chrysalis F-sharp
Where fingers at last Goldilock
Into queasy equilibrium,
To my dumb surprise
The dark sac butterflies
And there is Susie
A little tipsy
On hard compatibilism,
With hips of pulsars
And hands of auroras
She hulus like the time warp
Not spasm without rhythm
But otherworldly vibrato.