"It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things." -Lemony Snicket

For all its ostensible simplicity, death is complicated for those of us who have yet to experience it. And while I appreciate Snicket's sentiment, coping with loss is not always this straightforward. It is not always possible to merely readjust oneself after the painful shock of losing someone we care about, simply because some relationships transcend illusory misstep; there are some people who are more to us than just the empty space through which we navigate and which confuses us and makes us feel silly when we realize that there was never really any reason to worry in the first place, and that we are going to be just fine.

In much the same way as realizing we've tripped over a non-existent stair, it is always uncomfortably surprising when we lose someone we know. It's a feeling akin to being suddenly and aggressively shaken awake from some mildly enjoyable, but generally monotonous dream. Like we couldn't have predicted as much, as if it were some exotic and unfortunate illness that only ever happens to people in newspapers. And whenever we are made to confront the painful yet obvious reality, it forces us take a step back and reevaluate things.

It makes us think of the deceased, and how we must readjust our view of the world to accommodate their absence. And yes, many times this adjustment amounts to nothing more than a brief moment of miscalculation and confusion. But there are some times when this is not the case, when the loss of a person causes an unmistakable and lasting difference in our lives. There is a rare and special closeness with certain people that some of us are lucky enough to experience, and which at some point causes us to unconsciously realize the verity and significance of these people's existence.

There comes a moment when a person ceases to be merely an imagined phenomenon, and forever becomes an integral piece of the staircase in the multi-storied building of one's life. The people who ineffably and eternally changed us; the people who inadvertently etched themselves into our framework and forced us to recognize their inextricable realness. These are the people for whom we do not become only momentarily disoriented when they leave. When they stop existing there is one less step, a permanent gap in the staircase. And no matter how much time passes, no matter how well adjusted we become, it will never feel quite right skipping a step, making the unnatural lunge over the empty space they've left behind.

I will love you no matter how many mistakes I make when trying to reduce fractions, and no matter how difficult it is to memorize the periodic table. I will love you as the manatee loves the head of lettuce and as the dark spot loves the leopard, as the leech loves the ankle of a wader and as a corpse loves the beak of a vulture. I will love you as the iceberg loves the ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat and the lifeboat loves the teeth of the ***** whale, and the ***** whale loves the flavor of naval uniforms. I never want to be away from you again, except at work, in the restroom or when one of us is at a movie the other does not want to see.

I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where we once were so close that we could slip the curved straw, and the long, slender spoon, between our lips and fingers respectively. I will love you until the chances of us running into one another slip from slim to zero, and until your face is fogged by distant memory, and your memory faced by distant fog, and your fog memorized by a distant face, and your distance distanced by the memorized memory of a foggy fog. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, no matter where you avoid and who you don’t see, and no matter who sees you avoiding where you go. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this, and no matter how I am discovered after what happens to me as I am discovering this.

I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp, and as a gasping person loves a glass of brandy to calm their nerves, and as a glass of brandy loves to shatter on the floor, and as the noise of glass shattering loves to make someone else gasp, and as someone else gasping loves a nearby desk to lean against, even if leaning against it presses a lever that loves to open a drawer and reveal a secret compartment. I will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and until all the secrets have gone gasping into the world.

I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence, and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong.

I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday.

Strange as it may seem, I still hope for the best, even though the best, like an interesting piece of mail, so rarely arrives, and even when it does it can be lost so easily.

Life will never end when you are in it.”

They’re really rockin’ in Bradford,
Off the Pennine Way.
Deep in the heart of Yorkshire
And round the Robin Hood’s Bay.
All over South Ossett
And down to New Farnley.
Roast beef and Yorkie Puddings,
God’s Own County, Yay!

Yull see ‘em rambling at Ilkley,
Right to the county line,
Sheffield steel and Wednesday –
A football team so fine.
Better still, Leeds United,
Greatest club of all time.

Yorkshire, Kings of Cricket,
Oh what a boon!
Get down that wicket,
We’ll be champs by June.
Down a ginnel or snicket,
See our Olympic Champs.
Coal Miner Picket,
Relight those lamps.

Racing pigeons and ferrets,
Stereotypes tha knows.
Over t’top in Lancashire,
Them there’s our foes.
We’re the greatest county,
Our pride really glows.
We know you all hate us,
It keeps us on our toes.

So we’ll be rockin’ in Yorkshire,
What more can I say?
Us Tykes 're as barmy as Barnsley,
So I’ll be on my way.

Paul Butters

(With due thanks to Chuck Berry and also The Beach Boys)

We writers are insane.
All of us.
We revel in our own sad mess
While picking green grapes
Off the wallpaper,
Smecking away like mad
At the wondrous juices
Of the imaginary, judicial
Forbidden Fruit.

We, like Hemingway,
Take our scotch in the morning
And our gin at night
And try with brutal, lashing effort
To make it through
Everything in-between.

We have put ourselves in shoes
We will never be able to walk in.
We must walk miles as
Linguists, as
Assassins, as
Outsiders, as
victims, as
AIDS sufferers, as
Brutalizers of women.
We must deal with their pain
As if it were housed in our own entity of being.

J.D. Salinger wrote that
His literary son, Holden,
Wore a “people-shooting” hat and
Made it **** clear that he suffered from wild
And erratic fits of overwhelming depression.
Writing from a bunker
Far from his wife, kids and home,
His stories sparked ****** in the hearts
Of already oppressed men
With “people-shooting” hats of their own.
We must toil with language;
Put it in the corner,
Love it, hate it,
Shift it and slave daily with it.
We must lose hours upon hours upon
Days of sleep
Before we find ourselves
Dangerously asleep at the wheel in front of us
In order to make the slightest change in our regular ways.
Even then,
Our handwriting only becomes sloppier
And our words,
Only fiercer.

Kaysen, alone in a psych ward
With women who slept around and
Tried to maul each other,
Wrote diligently
To try to release the the demon
Boiling the very blood inside her veins.
But demons do not disappear easily
And unfortunately,
Neither do the tortuous memories.

Even today,
They attempt to label me
With words of the disturbed.
Anxiety
Floods my synapses and neurons.
Depression
Happily urinates on my serotonin levels.
I bring myself to write
The effigy of the ******
Day by day
As my pen scratches paper
And the doctors expect razor to scratch skin
Though it never has
And never will.

Writers are psychos.
We all are.
We remain the mad, psychotic, literate monsters
Who worm our ways
Into your head.
We nestle beside your dreams and fantasies,
Waiting to strike
And tear them apart or,
If you’re lucky,
Build them up.
A woman writer named Sylvia
Once put her head in the oven
Because the writer-demons were driving her to madness
And they wouldn’t leave her be.

Handling us is a torture
Only the most eloquent and experienced reader
Could enjoy.

Love Always,
Salinger and
Plath and
Kesey and
Vonnegut and
Burgess and
King and
Sandburg and
Snicket and
Hemingway and
Palahniuk and
Kaysen and
Gaimen and
Green and
Trumbo and…

Holtry.

"Everyone, at some point in their lives, wakes up in the middle of the night with the feeling that they are all alone in the world, and that nobody loves them now and that nobody will ever love them, and that they will never have a decent night's sleep again and will spend their lives wandering blearily around a loveless landscape, hoping desperately that their circumstances will improve, but suspecting, in their heart of hearts, that they will remain unloved forever. The best thing to do in these circumstances is to wake somebody else up, so that they can feel this way, too."

(NaPoWriMo Challenge: April 6, 2017)

This is a man who literally counts his dogs.
This is a man who knows geometry and trigonometry,
      casually.
There exists in Alabama a hedge maze of this man’s brain.
This is someone concerned about time trails and sun dials.
This is someone concerned about IPCC reports and drought.
This is a man who would literally sacrifice his skin.
This is a Shirley Jackson story.
This is a Lemony Snicket story.
This is A Rose for Emily.
This story will one day be a movie, no doubt.
The half-glass proverb was not a metaphor to this man.
There is a man in every town who shouldn’t be made to want to leave it.
Who tells his story?

They’re really rockin’ in Bradford,
Off the Pennine Way.
Deep in the heart of Yorkshire
And all round Robin Hood’s Bay.
All over South Ossett
Down there to New Farnley.
Roast beef and Yorkie Puddings,
God’s County Yay!

Yull see ‘em rambling near Ilkley,
Right to the county line,
Sheffield steel and Wednesday –
A football team so fine.
Better still, Leeds United,
Greatest club of all time.

Yorkshire, Kings of Cricket,
Oh what a boon!
Get down that wicket,
We’ll be champs by June.
Down a ginnel or snicket,
See our Olympic Champs.
Coal Miner Picket,
Relight those lamps.

Racing pigeons and ferrets,
Stereotypes tha knows.
Over t’top in Lancashire,
Them there’s our foes.
We’re the greatest county,
Our pride really glows.
We know you all do hate us,
It keeps us on our toes.

So we’ll be rockin’ in Yorkshire,
What more can I say?
Us Tykes're as barmy as Barnsley,
So I’ll be on my way.

Paul Butters

(With due thanks to Chuck Berry and also The Beach Boys)
© PB 2\5\2016.  Slightly Amended 14\4\2023.

The smell of fresh summer peaches fill the air,
a willow tree blows gently under a sunny abyss.
Silence fills the caterpillars cocoon and here I lay under the moon.
Hot night, soft breeze, smell of whiskey underneath the trees.
Crops are a grow'n' and the farmers fiddle sits on the hay.
Bonfires, beers and roasting fish on a smear rod snicket.
In the distance the scare crow stands tall and strong to protect the farmers land.
Animals squawk, hibernate and lock themselves in for a winter cold coming ahead.
Snowflakes fall, warm stew to be made by mom, morning comes, cup of chow time to relax with grandpa Jo.
Seasons pass and Spring is here at last,
muddy puddles, ***** feet, time to plant more growing seeds.
Life is beautiful, so is time, make it right and you shall find,
the touch, and warmth of every goodnight

Around 2008- Momma and I move into a rental house. I want to paint my room pink. She says no. I'm anxious at night and can't sleep. I memorize the creaks in the floor.

Around 2012-I take a wheel throwing class in the summer. The red clay hurts my hands. I mess up a perfectly good ***. It looks prettier that way.

Around 2003- I yell at the people I see smoking. I have just learned to speak and I wrinkle my nose into a coil, running around shouting "Ashes mom! Ashes!" I didn't just mean from the cigarettes.

May 27th, 2001- My family waits expectantly to see me. I curl myself into a smaller little fist. I don't come out for another 2 weeks.

Around 2009- I'm in a play of the 5th Harry Potter. I haven't read it. All the girls want to be Luna Lovegood. I audition because I don't know any other girls besides Hermione. I get the part. All the older kids tell me how jealous they are. I read a book upside down.

September 2015- I'm disappointed in the car. I think I've lost my earbuds. Mom whips the car around. Her face is very red. Her voice rings in my ears. We soar over the speed limit and she isn't looking at the road. I think we're going to die.

December 2008- We go to Paris for Christmas. We eat dinner on a boat. The engine blows out and something catches fire. We are stuck for 4 hours.

December 2015- Mommy tells me we stayed in a hotel that was the headquarters for the ****'s during World War II. I don't feel well about that.

Spring 2013- We go to Gulf Shores for break. I go in the ocean even though I come back blue. We visit a war fort. I fall in love with the grass and the sea.

Summer, some time ago- 3 little kids ask me how I exist. I tell them it's an operation. One responds "Like getting your tonsils out?" No. Not like that at all. My tonsils feel terribly large.

Around 2009- I pick up a book by Lemony Snicket. I make my mom read all 13 books aloud to me. I sleep through half of them. I still don't know what happened to the Baudelaire children.

June 3rd, 2015- I leave my home of 9 years. I think I'm sad. It happens too fast to remember. When did we grow up? No one answers. I don't cry like I thought I would. I mess up the one hug that matters most.

Some time in 2004- I can't sleep. I'm too nervous. I climb up the bars and sprint down the hall. My parents decide it's time to get me a real bed.

Some time in 2009- Momma and I move into our own house. I'm infinitely anxious at night. I warm my clothes by the heater. I memorize the creaks in the floor.

Spring 2014- I go to gymnastics on a Sunday. I do 50 back-handsprings in a row. I jar my brain and end up in the hospital for 5 hours. I suffer migraines. They ask me why I haven't taken my tonsils out.

High on the cliffs above Lake Lachrimose
Lived a dear old woman taunted by ghosts,
Some of her present and some of her past
Hoping that each episode would hurry by fast.
She could not bring to terms of her dear old Ike
Who died by the leeches, gnawing alike.
He went in the water too soon after eating
and soon became a memory that is any but fleeting.
But now she meets Olaf, spoken in lie
He promises pearls, but soon she'll die
by the same way Ike did, eaten alive.
(Based off of The Wide Window by Lemony Snicket)

What does it mean
To be a man
Or a woman
?
Does a man
Become less male
And more female
If an accident reminiscent
Of one Lemony Snicket
Led to the removal of
One ugly piece of flesh
?
Does a woman
Become more of a woman
When the internal organs
Begin reproduction
According to the textbooks
?
Which part of
You is wrong
When there is a discrepancy
Between brain and ******
?
Or is there greater beauty
In uncertainty and ambiguity
As liberal and conservative admit
In humility, that
In truth
“I don’t know”
?

I don't want you to become
another foreign thing in my
closet and inside
I ask myself what I expected
What I was hoping? Every
secret thought, I don't capture
them all.

And your memories: those I
deem property of Chris inside
my head, play on a spanish loop
with He Venido on low in the background.

I don't plan on getting rid of you.
Or forgetting you, or burying your
face behind stacks of books, The Count,
The Little Prince, A Clockwork Orange,
Things Fall Apart, and most of all the
Lemony Snicket hardcover that you
hid condoms in, the ones we never
used.

I have tried to document you because
I hope that it will help or that you will
see these things, but I have taken your
willpower for granted.  You perhaps
write nothing of me, maybe in a
diary maybe no where maybe
I am buried, maybe I am gone
maybe you have ripped out
my pages, my pictures, my
hair from thoughts no longer
strays on your bed, maybe you
have chosen to move on.

I don't want to end this poem.

The Pint of a Groggy Moat


“If writers wrote as carelessly as some people talk, then adhasdh asdglaseuyt[bn[ pasdlgkhasdfasdf.”
― Lemony Snicket


There are 2 mornings of types
How I wake up:
1, the glorious morning seeps in my being and
fills me with light for the day.
2, the mornious gloring beeps in my ceiling and
tilts me with fight for delay.

This morning was the second type.

I inconsolably wept a river of sorrow
starkly aware alienated daughter(s)
implacable woe sundered fatherhood
yesterday, today and tomorrow.

A series of unfortunate events
(move over Lemony Snicket)
set in motion since my birth
unleashed impotent scrawny infant
registering 3,000,716,593 third
baby born on planet earth
swaddled emulating uterine hearth.

Oblivious to death, his ear splitting yowling
triggered lactation, which kept him alive,
where he blissfully suckled guaranteed immunity,
yet thru childhood chicken pox and mumps
he gain said grim forecast and survive
living social threescore and four years
amidst emotional travails
including life threatening bout
with anorexia he did thrive.

Mein kampf and lovely bones
analogous to graveyard
the wind thru unmarked tombstone moans
issuing melancholic tones.

Quintessential tear ducts relentlessly secrete
grim reaper who no mortal can cheat,
yet offspring must not precede parents,
hence tis regarding scythe
(memento mori symboling untimely death)
stealing prized progeny,
and forever silencing her heart beat.

She leads charmed enviable life
physically active with all manner of sport
unlike yours truly and the wife
whereat the former (an aspiring wordsmith)
experiencing psychological demon
that brandish blood dripping knife.

Accursed pained longevity I must bear
illustrative of existence,
where mental health did career
all too human to err,
nevertheless daughter will not forgive
no matter schizoid personality disorder
inherited courtesy one or more forebear
me, the singular son and addle brained heir
sired by Boyce and Harriet

whose pop and mom genes
transmitted self destructive traits
that did unwittingly impair
embedded within mine being
analogous to knitwear
fraught with mistake
and evident in me a longhair
pencil necked geek near
to thinning out viz receding hairline
versus once golden locks xtra ordinaire

when just a lad mistook me being queer,
yet homosexual preference rear
if non existent, yet notions
of same *** flagrante delicto thoughts
flickered decades ago
regarding to timeshare
once skinny self while at Antioch College,
especially when unexpectedly approached
by ******* clad Adonis
donned in frilly underwear.

As one sexagenarian
becomes more sanguine,
he nevertheless struggles to decouple
his boyhood, adolescent, late teen
and emerging adulthood
experiences that left bitter
after taste of quinine,
and prompts tremendous us to pine
for halcyon days recalling mine
blissful years at 324 Level Road
Collegeville, Pennsylvania
they mostly ranked as divine.

walk a circuit around perimeter of parking lot

Yours truly realized modus operandi
to kombat (mortal) lethargy
he strides rite around
resident parking lot area
usually at approximately
19:00 hours each day
casually bumbling and ambling
one lap after another
counting one hundred and one,
one hundred and two,
one hundred and three...
coordinated with deep breathing
to distract self from repetitiveness.

Modicum of exercise
also helps keeps at bay
mental anguish triggered
duress experienced
courtesy of property management
constituting: Zoftig, the warden
and maintenance man "Mister Clean"
once also known as "twinkle toes,"
back during hs high school heyday
whose invisible clutches

asphyxiate me and the missus
prompting us to search
senior low income apartment facilities,
spurring query regarding
wondering if any anonymous reader
might be able, eager, ready and willing
to hand over keys to main lodging
including carriage house,
or (in a manor of writing)
assign access rights to an excellent outlook.

Sense and sensibility concerning
the emotional fallout
brought about by sedentariness
(essentially affecting me to feel
glum, melancholy, and ruminative)
helped goad generic indigent solitary man
(practically self quarantined
his whole mucked up adult life)
hence not inconvenienced
when coronavirus COVID-19
wrought havoc and mayhem.

Just on the cusp of experiencing joie de vivre
the triumvirate of Crooks and Quade
figuratively swooped down
to announce re: inspection
of apartment unit B44
Tuesday June 29th, 11:00 am - 4:00 pm.

Thus series of unfortunate events
(linkedin with bull limey
Lemony Snicket bro)
got sidelined nsync with
contracting a minor bout
with deadly Amish Flu
symptoms found garden variety reasonable rhymer
bedridden feeling a little horse and buggy (ha),
incapacitated to craft signature poetry writing.

An honest to dog confession
regarding hiatus spewing forth
vociferous versatile vocabulary
mine words - worth their weight in gold
(told woofer I do not know), nevertheless
included perusing a gamut of reading material.

The passion to engross intellect
witnessed courtesy immersing
attention, concentration, excitation
gratification, intoxication;
knowledge prized more precious
than fine spun gold.

Likewise crafting (albeit painstakingly)
elusive notions that flit
to and fro hither and yon
(analogous to ping pong ball)
within parameters of
microscopically crenellated
gray matter
also constitutes fervent interest.

Axed dent of circumstances
(series of unfortunate events
courtesy Lemony Snicket)
adze hatchet marks
to sexagenarian mortal
and finds yours truly liberated,
whereby no obligatory constraints

obliges forcible adherence
synchronizing Circadian rhythm
linkedin within Capital One paradigm
minutely crafting, daisy chaining
involuntarily ceding cradle to grave
man made artificial construct
(dismissing one livingsocial away

alone in the wilderness off the gridlock)
co-opting every precious moment
comprising hour quotidian existence
to sustain swiftly styled
harried tailored lifestyle
affording bajillion **** sapiens
luxury to scold frantic scramble,

freedom to scurry frantically
twenty four seven madcap rat race
formerly existing (millenniums ago)
as "noble savage"
courtesy Jean Jacques Rousseau
ah...remember those glory days
now, grudgingly,

niggardly... unwittingly
compromising pleasant dreams
jarring deeply slumbering
body electric groggily awake
liberty, courtesy alarming wake up
to toil away making dem
big dearly beloved bucks

essentially entering holy grail
searching made more worthwhile
thankless fracas, fray, fraught
pitting one beasty boy against t'other
survival of fittest in overdrive
(Charles Darwin taken aback),
how origin of most ruthless species
went a courtin for dazzling,

jazzy, regal trappings
supposedly to ease
grueling laboring mind numbing
lumpenproletariat, when after
devoting, sacrificing, venerating...
prime mating years
take respite, and

hire oneself out
as independent contractor,
versus sedately pathetic mundane...
you bet your life faux gameshow
in relation to this
self ostracized wordsmith
scratching out literary endeavors.

I accompany my dark shadow...
(many hours before edge of night,
where twilight zone evokes night gallery),
and resumed walking a circuit
around perimeter of parking lot
today, a breezy temperate
twenty fifth of April two thousand
and twenty two, and perhaps
if regularly habituate myself
to said stroll physical endeavors
may one day find me to cantor or trot.

Yours truly realized modus operandi
to kombat (mortal) lethargy;
last year, he did stride rite
around resident parking lot area
(here at Highland Manor apartments)
then usually at approximately
19:00 hours each day
casually bumbling and ambling
one lap after another
counting one hundred and one,
one hundred and two,
one hundred and three...
coordinated with deep breathing
to distract self from repetitiveness.

Modicum of walking exercise
benefits this sexagenarian
in tandem yours truly began
burning ghee (my slang for calories)
while maintaining sitting position
placing each foot in strap
and pedalling lightweight machine
against adjusted tension.

Aside from strengthening leg muscles
choosing to while away time
by disciplining myself with former or latter,
both modes of physical fitness
also help keep anguish at bay
mental duress triggered
courtesy of property management
constituting: Zoftig, the warden
and maintenance man,
(a recent hire),
the first two whose invisible clutches

asphyxiate me and the missus
hounding us to keep
one bedroom apartment in shipshape order
and particularly to wipe away fruit fly feces
(cuz exterminator informed us
said itty bitty teeny weeny insect
breeds within their
yellowish gummy waste matter)
prompting us to Google search
senior low income apartment facilities,
spurring spurious query wondering
whether any anonymous reader
might be able, eager, ready and willing
to hand over keys to main lodging
including carriage house,
we would even settle for a dog house
or (in a manor of writing) Yukon
assign access rights to an excellent outlook.

Sense and sensibility concerning
the emotional fallout
brought about by sedentariness
(essentially affecting me to feel
glum, melancholy, and ruminative)
helped goad generic indigent solitary man
(practically self quarantined
his whole mucked up adult life)
hence not inconvenienced
when coronavirus COVID-19
wrought havoc and mayhem.

Just on the cusp of experiencing joie de vivre,
the triumvirate of Crooks and Quade
figuratively swoop down
to announce re: inspection
of apartment unit B44
whenever they deem appropriate.

Thus series of unfortunate events
(linkedin with bull limey
Lemony Snicket bro)
got sidelined nsync with
contracting a minor bout
with deadly Amish Flu
symptoms found garden variety
reasonable rhymer
bedridden feeling a little horse and buggy (ha),
incapacitated to craft signature poetry writing.

An honest to dog confession
regarding hiatus spewing forth
vociferous versatile vocabulary
mine words - worth their weight in gold
(told woofer I do not know), nevertheless
included perusing a gamut of reading material.

The passion to engross intellect
witnessed courtesy immersing
attention, concentration, excitation
gratification, intoxication;
knowledge prized more precious
than fine spun gold.

Likewise crafting (albeit painstakingly)
elusive notions that flit
to and fro hither and yon
(analogous to ping pong ball)
within parameters of
microscopically crenellated
sixty plus shades of gray matter
also constitutes fervent interest.

courtesy of management in general
and particularly Jackie Geiger
assistant property agent.

One benefit living social
at Highland Manor Apartments
until decrepit and bent...
constitutes qualifying for reimbursement
direct deposited into checking
as chump change event,
hence one generic grateful gent
feels self satisfied as Clark Kent.

After broken wing and prayer
granted courtesy The Flying Tigers
at long last located valuable information
issued December of each year
surprisingly enough exactly where
social security (2021) 1099 form
remained untouched, I swear,
yet earlier yesterday April 5th,  2022
at 1500 hours though very near,
and finally located necessary documentation
(think rental rebate) here
with unexpected discovery

birthed following poem aware
many if not all avid readers
will not care, nor give rat's a$$
regarding humdrum minor dilemma
involving one bonafide
**** sapiens merely
bruising himself – common Joe
garden variety generic biomass,
nonetheless, he fetes, lauds, tauts...
rental rebate tantamount
approximating financial reimbursement
without being unduly crass.

Thus reasonable rhyme
yours truly doth aire
without stut... stut...
stuttering, yet no guarantee
wordsworth their weight
in gold will ring clear
more likely receive
frosty reception everywhere
across world wide web,
perhaps with unwelcome glare,

yet profuse apology
if man with wit - me,
(i.e. Whitman) didst unwittingly interfere
with unwanted distraction
courtesy bobbing square
pants donned sponge
soaking up precious time (yours)
foolish longfellow rushing in where
one capricorn long since wed
not nsync, but alone,

cuz angels fear to tread
"quod erat demonstrandum"
forgotten Latin accessed
at least once year
when yours truly crafts poetry
more familiarly recognized as Q.E.D.
(shares close pronunciation
with ska quid word)
ditch costs extra nay saying
horse sense according to Ned,
whoop sorry, I meant mister Ed.

Chalk up the above
tummy knocker round
motley fool whimsical caprice
forever one generic
(ewe among us) scapegoat
bullied, lambasted, ostracized...
simian still silently suffering
life threatening wounds
since no protective Jason,
nor the Golden Fleece

shielded me against
Tormentors of Torghast even after
becoming gratefully dead,
struck by lightning bolts well greased
they will still increase
only difference when nonexistence prevails,
versus while given lease
as run(t) of the mill mortal
doth finally welcoming peace
of body, mind and spirit.

Aforestated gallimaufry mishmash
hoopfully doth explain
tangentially, loosely and amazingly
one after another graceful linkedin refrain
now heeds intuitive trumpeted
clarion call moon faced
cybersurfer to wax and wane.

Roll up welcome Harris tweed
Scottish tartan mat after
lame attempt bing witty and wise
fame and fortune elude,
nevertheless logophile continuously tries
this April 6th, 2022  no surprise
quotidian series of Lemony Snicket induced
unfortunate circumstances did rise
every hour these myopic eyes
blinked cognitive depth youthfulness belies,
when dawning consciousness did arise.

One benefit living at
Highland Manor Apartments
until decrepit and bent...
constitutes qualifying for reimbursement
direct deposited into checking
as chump change event,
hence one generic grateful gent
feels self satisfied as Clark Kent.

After wing and prayer
granted courtesy The Flying Tigers
at long last located valuable information
issued December of each year
surprisingly enough exactly where

social security (2020) 1099 form
remained untouched, I swear
yet earlier yesterday March 8th, 2021
at 1200 hours though very near,
and finally located necessary documentation
(think rental rebate) here

with unexpected discovery
birthed following poem aware
many if not all avid readers
will not care, nor give rat's ***
regarding humdrum minor dilemma
involving one bonafide

**** sapiens merely
bruising himself - garden variety biomass,
nonetheless, he fetes, lauds, tauts...
rental rebate tantamount
approximating financial reimbursement
without being unduly crass.

Thus reasonable rhyme
yours truly doth aire
without stut... stut...
stuttering, yet no guarantee
wordsworth their weight

in gold will ring clear
more likely receive
frosty reception everywhere
across world wide web,
perhaps with unwelcome glare,

yet profuse apology
if man with wit - me,
(i.e. whitman) didst unwittingly interfere
with unwanted distraction
courtesy bobbing square
pants donned sponge

soaking up precious time (yours)
foolish longfellow rushing in where
one capricorn long since wed
not nsync, but alone, cuz angels fear to tread
"quod erat demonstrandum"

more familiarly recognized as Q.E.D.
(shares close pronunciation with quid)
ditch costs extra horse sense according to Ned,
whoop sorry, I meant mister Ed.

Chalk up the above
tummy whimsical caprice
forever one generic
(ewe among us) scapegoat
bullied, lambasted, ostracized...

simian still silently suffering
life threatening wounds
since no protective Jason,
nor the golden  fleece
shielded me against torments even after

becoming gratefully dead,
they will still increase
only difference when nonexistence prevails,
versus while given lease
as run(t) of the mill mortal
doth finally welcoming peace
of body, mind and spirit.

Aforestated gallimaufry mishmash
hoopfully doth explain
tangentially, loosely and amazingly
one after another graceful linkedin refrain
now heeds intuitive trumpeted
clarion call moon faced
cybersurfer to wax and wane.

Roll up welcome Harris tweed Scottish mat after
lame attempt bing witty and wise
fame and fortune elude,
nevertheless logophile continuously tries
this March 9th, 2021 no surprise

quotidian series of Lemony Snicket induced
unfortunate circumstances did rise
every hour these myopic eyes
blinked cognitive depth youthfulness belies,
when dawning consciousness did arise.

Infinite pitch black void zoomed,
I vacillated then pitched headlong
(head and knobby knees, over heels)
where skeletons in shuttered closets roomed,
and antithesis of freedom loomed
large (think) cosmic size grand canyon groomed
courtesy the once mighty Mississippi,
now barely a babbling brook in places

espouses, and cloisters unbridled wedded bliss
till after honeymoon, than couple fumed
one accusing the other of infidelity
absolute zero witnessed crime of passion
lifeless bodies in shallow grave entombed
after violent retribution forensic experts
determine homicide after lovely bones exhumed
shotgun marriage from getgo doomed
structured sound of silence boomed.

Against the wishes of slumbering wife,
the following I nonetheless narrated,
to you how she temporarily held
yours truly check (mated),
thus eternal salvation sought
at healing waters of Lake Woebegone
repurposed conscious being
to experience sanguine mood linkedin
attending high school reunion
ridding hypocrisy, modesty,
and travesty initially I hibernated
away from madding crowd
once for all ascending
soul asylum gilded gated

stairway to heaven
consanguinity amidst deceased brethren
impossible mission to discern,
dawdling against inevitable fated
doom, thus I nevertheless equivocated
and bemoaned series of unfortunate events.

Daniel Handler an American writer and musician
best known for his children's series
A Series of Unfortunate Events
and All the Wrong Questions
Lemony Snicket honestly created
salvation blissfully, knowingly belated
and thankfully ameliorated.

At long last doomed existence
finally fancy free and footloose
Earthly afflictions divine creator
severe trials and tribulations let loose
promise body, mind and spirit triage
**** physical, mental, and
spiritual afflictions permanent vamoose
yoked Sisyphean and mephistophelean woe
summoning herculean strength
(mine) to vanquish
courtesy (halloo) gibbet welcome noose
necks stop outer limits analogous cooked goose.

Neither family nor scant friends twill mourn
severance outlook linkedin inextricably forlorn
accursed psychological agony since I got born
incessantly pilloried courtesy bullies hood scorn,
yours truly convenient scapegoat raked over hot coals
preferable versus insidious,
malicious, nefarious, opprobrious

querulous, ridiculous, salacious...
suffering post traumatic stress disorder wartorn
invisible battle scars branded me, yet well worn
shell shocked comfortably numbed skull
(just another brick in the wall)
jimmied heavily inebriated distilled, cracked corn
trumpet silenced (think) muted horn.

Anger at self wells up
regarding passive stance (mine)
convenient akin to jellyfish,
and/or crustaceans without spine
essentially a dorky nerdy wimpy kid
i.e. faulty genetic design
unsure if attributable to Capricorn zodiac sign
essentially allowed, enabled and provided
easy excellent access akin to scavengers to dine

bitter draughts synonymous quaffing quinine
bobble headed, I
meekly, grudgingly, admittedly opine
figuratively forced down gullet - nein
letup liberally heaped upon
courtesy 20/20 hindsight, a tangential pact
with Sue S. Side, promising starvation diet
package deal plus absent I, cant see
(now a tan - gent) unwittingly did cosign.

If we wait until we’re ready, we’ll be waiting for the rest of our lives.

                                       ~Lemony Snicket

Analogous to Möbius strip -
measured passage of existence
seems to defy any beginning or end
(unless Artificial Intelligence
supersedes developers smarts
of computer technology
evincing brain power
designing sophisticated machines
that enslave their creators)
incorporating figurative

uber plug n play
genetic material imperceptibly
becoming modified to offer
advantageous lyft to maneuver
weathering adverse circumstances
which series of unfortunate events
proffered entry point
for Lemony Snicket
an underappreciated character
only took precedence

with **** sapiens ascendent
bursting forth upon
the figurative pedestal
presiding over domain,
sans Earthly covenant
a bajillion ago,
where fits and starts
pitted proto humans
at no immediate advantage,
yet merely, thru

dint of accidental
happenstance ever so
imperceptibly amassed dominion
over every other species
cue **** erectus
an extinct species
of archaic human
from the Pleistocene,
with its earliest occurrence
about two million years ago,

specimens among the first
recognizable members
of the genus ****
as became evident
throughout the vast sweep of
anthropological
evolutionary incidental
plucky perturbations, provocations,
and/or pullulations arisen by
spontaneous circumstantial grant

ting quasi consciously
coalescing into nasty,
short and brutish bipedal hominids
deliberated focused intent,
where forethought
coopted indiscriminate
chance facilitating kent -
state manifested rubber
baby buggy bumpers
activated, aggrandized, and

allotted destiny meant
to lurch incrementally
i.e. hierarchical designation
present day primate
predecessors practiced negligible
fletched, notched, and
worsted nimbleness orchestrated
(equal parts gall and genetic
giftedness), whatsapp operant
adaptation toward

survival rippled quiescent lyft
minutely nudging overt salient
traits ineluctably
manifesting, outflanking,
and proffering
quintessential urgent
biological scrimmage quietly testing,
and wrestling, whence yen
(to secure rootedness
favoring survival of the fittest)

zeroing what didst warrant
winning formula
to adapt adroit edge
pitted by dictates of nature
grappling iron
grip, viz literal hedge
fund and kickstarting toehold
upon tenuous ledge
(oft times succumbing to danger)
falling into abyss

of anonymity pledge
kindled acquired innovative tool
such as a primitive sledge
hammer instinctively
resigning animal instinct
death be not proud not
before inculcating
survivalist tactical wedge.

My mother got born November
thirteenth, nineteen hundred thirty five
within poverty stricken household
of Canarsie, Brooklyn, the youngest
(most mollycoddled) of four siblings,

experienced grinding poverty, no
matter maternal grandfather (Moishe
Kuritsky), a tailor he lacked drive
to support his family two parents +
remainder offspring, he helped sire

lacked positive role models, none the
less gumption taught her to strive
at tender age livid with rage to escape
caricature living poor, thus sought
employment when/wherever sheik hood

if necessary fibbed to survive
plus rash of healthy nurturing, and
absolute zero constraints, perhaps five
or thereabout years old attested
much later, suspected her papa did jive

with unspeakable improper behavior
(nobody dare discuss taboo issues),
yet intuition awoke within immoral
conclusion Harriet Kuritsky did arrive,
and perhaps resorted to stretching

the truth (fibbing a "white lie") the only
recourse available plied sweet innocence
knowing little or nothing about birds
feathering their nest, nor little about
buzzfeeding activity in beehive

naivete flirtatious coyness advantage worked,
I bet young thang did connive
and probably never did contemplate,
deliberate, generate and wrongdoing,
where mother of necessity spurred

angelic demureness strategy to contrive
securing bare necessities, hence fast
forward, when unsolicited advice given
to this sole son, or either sibling, (an older
& younger sister) tactics upbringing did deprive

ma mum of positive role models, hence
only blueprint to acquire essential needs
serendipitous series of unfortunate events
before Lemony Snicket did derive
school of hard knocks, (I do believe
formerly called Abraham Lincoln High)

rather than impugn, judge, revile, et cetera
kernels/nuggets of wisdom memory did revive
within my mind for rhyme, nor reason
blunt honesty, not always best policy
despite ten commandments
to husbands with many a wive.

Life lesson learned meant blurred line
between mendacity and truth
courtesy upbringing mommy dearest
if repeatedly drummed into me noggin
brutal honesty will bring nothing but bupkis,
or if you prefer the Yiddish spelling bobkes.

Infinite pitch black void zoomed,
I vacillated then pitched headlong
(head and knobby knees, over heels)
where skeletons in shuttered closets roomed,
and antithesis of freedom loomed
large (think) cosmic size grand canyon groomed
courtesy the once mighty Mississippi,
now barely a babbling brook in places

espouses, and cloisters unbridled wedded bliss
till after honeymoon, than couple fumed
one accusing the other of infidelity
absolute zero witnessed crime of passion
lifeless bodies in shallow grave entombed
after violent retribution forensic experts
determine homicide after lovely bones exhumed
shotgun marriage from getgo doomed
structured sound of silence boomed.

Against the wishes of slumbering wife,
the following I nonetheless narrated,
to you how she temporarily held
yours truly check (mated),
thus eternal salvation sought
at healing waters of Lake Woebegone
repurposed conscious being
to experience sanguine mood linkedin
attending high school reunion
ridding hypocrisy, modesty,
and travesty initially I hibernated
away from madding crowd
once for all ascending
soul asylum gilded gated

stairway to heaven
consanguinity amidst deceased brethren
impossible mission to discern,
dawdling against inevitable fated
doom, thus I nevertheless equivocated
and bemoaned series of unfortunate events.

Daniel Handler an American writer and musician
best known for his children's series
A Series of Unfortunate Events
and All the Wrong Questions
Lemony Snicket honestly created
salvation blissfully, knowingly belated
and thankfully ameliorated.

At long last doomed existence
finally fancy free and footloose
Earthly afflictions divine creator
severe trials and tribulations let loose
promise body, mind and spirit triage
**** physical, mental, and
spiritual afflictions permanent vamoose
yoked Sisyphean and mephistophelean woe
summoning herculean strength
(mine) to vanquish
courtesy (halloo) gibbet welcome noose
necks stop outer limits analogous cooked goose.

Neither family nor scant friends twill mourn
severance outlook linkedin inextricably forlorn
accursed psychological agony since I got born
incessantly pilloried courtesy bullies hood scorn,
yours truly convenient scapegoat raked over hot coals
preferable versus insidious,
malicious, nefarious, opprobrious

querulous, ridiculous, salacious...
suffering post traumatic stress disorder wartorn
invisible battle scars branded me, yet well worn
shell shocked comfortably numbed skull
(just another brick in the wall)
jimmied heavily inebriated distilled, cracked corn
trumpet silenced (think) muted horn.

Anger at self wells up
regarding passive stance (mine)
convenient akin to jellyfish,
and/or crustaceans without spine
essentially a dorky nerdy wimpy kid
i.e. faulty genetic design
unsure if attributable to Capricorn zodiac sign
essentially allowed, enabled and provided
easy excellent access akin to scavengers to dine

bitter draughts synonymous quaffing quinine
bobble headed, I
meekly, grudgingly, admittedly opine
figuratively forced down gullet - nein
letup liberally heaped upon
courtesy 20/20 hindsight, a tangential pact
with Sue S. Side, promising starvation diet
package deal plus absent I, cant see
(now a tan - gent) unwittingly did cosign.

Synonymous with light hypnotic mode
inhaling and exhaling diffusing anger
lest mine noggin would explode
rhythmic breaths flowed
sustained me red nose (think Rudolph) glowed.

Holistic approach to derive peace of mind
necessitating absolute zero noise
(the slightest distraction
offsets delicate transcendent state)
nevertheless effortless breathing
(whereby mantra incorporated)
buoys body, mind and spirit triage.

Trail of tears left in my wake
tortured psyche I cannot take
woebegone roiling anguish doth quake
one christened Matthew Scott Harris
quite popular namesake
yours truly
zapped, wretched and tattered
gruesome caricature keepsake.

Me beast of burden exhausted,
thus I take tired *** abed
cuz cheeses crust,
this brother spiritually bred
though NON GMO gluten free
das capital one human got cred
linkedin and locked with dread.

Retrospective of mein kampf on display
no time for sergeants, nor hip hip hooray
mine burdened psyche clamors, hankers, pines...
willingly bequeaths fractured father
to posterity, I just wanna lay
overburdened spirit desperately plunges
into terrestrial realm reaching passageway
where pained existence bids adieu
flourishing grateful dead today.

Book of Wisdom in the Bible,
chapter 2, verse 8
advises gather ye rosebuds while ye may
impossible mission to squelch
testosterone laden hormonal secretion
nsync with biological call of the wild
helped beget deux offspring.

Series of unfortunate events
(only known to Lemony Snicket)
finds eldest grown daughter bereft of beau
who abandoned her
he went back home
to Puerto Rico.

Emotional pain wracking said progeny
(wind knocked out her sails)
vicariously experienced courtesy
saddened sensitive simian
soporific sullen papa, he whose
biological flesh, bone and blood
unforgivably, unfittingly, unfairly subjected
to unnecessary undeserved punishing lament.

Me and the missus wrought smart "star student,"
who matriculated and graduated storied
ivy league college
University of Pennsylvania alumni
suddenly strewn helter skelter
cuz ex boyfriend earned handsome income
to pay pricy apartment
housed within Oakland, California.

Dada poor bucks here
unable to allay financial hardship
saddling lovely young lady
birthed approximately twenty four years ago
both of us parents indigent
nonetheless livingsocial hand to mouth
along ritzy, snooty and tony MainLine
Lower Merion top notch school district.

Bellicose tirades spill forth
out the figurative mouth of our bubala,
she livid ranting with rage
shouldering an onerous task,
whose dark shadows cast grotesqueries
creep along the edge of night
within outer limits of twilight zone.

At Norm's Save Station
551 Gravel Pike, Collegeville, Pennsylvania,
yours truly suddenly realized
fifty eight years earlier
(a preschooler living at Lantern Lane)
John Fitzgerald Kennedy assassinated
November 22, 1963,
12:30 post meridiem
Central Standard Time
as he rode motorcade,

through Dealey Plaza
in downtown Dallas, Texas.
The myth of Camelot
(a place and time
of idyllic happiness)
actually assigned
Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy (1929–1994)
shattered instantaneously
by Lee Harvey Oswald.

While thoughts caught up
with aforementioned tragedy,
Norm a congenial older man,
and proprietor of mechanic
gently interrupted somber reflection
informing me, an exhaust leak
(costing north of four hundred dollars -
that said dollar figure
merely covers price of part)
warranted immediate attention.

Though no connection
between series of unfortunate events
occurring not quite three score years ago
and earlier today
(even Lemony Snicket
would find himself baffled)
finagling two disparate phenomena,

whereby one hotmail
sought to jumpstart and kickstart
his quest for reelection in November 1964,
and one generic kook (me)
linkedin to Machiavellian repercussions
affected then young
shell shocked parents of mine

indeed helpless to explain senseless
killing, whence second youngest president
wantonly, violently, and tragically slain
leader of the free webbed world
even now defies believing
peace on earth and goodwill toward
all men/women can be realized

meanwhile most recent incarnation
of King Arthur experiences brisk business
evidenced courtesy since trigger
pulled by assailant
gunned down by Jack Ruby
(ironically sentenced to death),
which linkedin loosed bullets
birthed conspiracy theories galore.

Relentless desecration
of life, liberty and pursuit of happiness
barely restrained by laws
dime a dozen murderous sprees
now rarely witness capital punishment
and offtimes find villain acquitted
even garnering accolades
after exhibiting crocodile tears
(think case in point:
Kyle Rittenhouse travesty of trial),
who killed two people
identified as 36-year-old

Joseph Rosenbaum, of Kenosha,
and 26-year-old Anthony Huber,
of Silver Lake, Wisconsin
Armed with with an AR-15-style rifle
purportedly and most likely intended
to empty unspecified number of rounds
lest why would a supposed
young law abiding citizen,
(and a minor at live crime time)
equip himself with full cartridge
if not to mow down innocent people?