Singular door-mouse scuttles in hedgerows, euphoric and chasing nothing
The greying clouds overhead loom low in the evening haze,
and vast orange illuminations in the west are a cold blanket desiring human warmth
Myriad ebon patterns in a southerly direction, ridiculous in their grandeur
She wanted a classic romanticism, not the hand sanitizer before bed routine
He missed the way she lay across his throat, choking in the dead of night
The stoic pool in the back yard was lonely again, when the blackbirds took leave

What day is this, when the apples no longer grow and love lives in another house?

Disregarded and rusted, the deodorant can chimes discordantly along some gravel drive
and a plastic bag is caught on an updraft, emulating some movie or art piece, pretentious in its nature
and whole trees stand naked, swaying in phantom dancehalls to some unfathomable songstress
Only the lonely are walking tonight and he is there, with them... alone
She stands in doorways recounting past dreams and wishing for wishes to be real
The peach coloured blinds are closed and sirens are dead in this, the saddest of nights

What hands are these, that type such things, and why tonight do I see these images in frosty car windows and street lamps flickering?

Still the door-mouse scurries and finds but a single berry, the last thought of seasons past
- the sun is dead, and to that end the moon does wryly nod
Never listen to those voices on ethereal winds for they tell so many lies
and in autumnal twilight a beacon is present but only in distant hills, when the wind catches her breath

The nicotine daybreak comes later each day and the nights are a drag
Burning embers of the cigarette summertime fade each passing second
- conforming to some ambiguous cosmic clock, of which we ignore daily
A steady pulse of whistling nostalgia to guide him to sleep
Hoping to dream, always hoping to dream

There's a mantra carved into a tree behind the old music department at the local school
On it reads a message to every solitudinarian with looming sadness on his head
She found these words carved when the bark was damp and bare
Pursing her lips as she read them aloud, her words vanishing into the crisp evening air
Laying her head in seasoned leaves and forcing her hand to a dull night sky
She sang a song of past lovers, and softly in the breeze, she began to cry

You think I'll keep you
because you're so fine
but there's nothing finer
than just me and mine

On a moonlit night,
after a long time
the two wanderers finally met.
They shared an extraordinary
bond that held them close.
One with a crushed heart
and the other with a secret.
He wanted to share his
Story and she had a
confession to make.
A rain drop fell
on the ground and
so did a tear that
rolled down her cheek
when she heard his
story.
He had a ******* his
mind who had left
him with deep scars.
Her heart sunk
and all the butterflies
died.
She submerged in her
own pain.
He told her how much
he adored the girl
and how she had
taken over his heart.
The petrichor
lingered in her mind.
The stars skewed.
A dream that turned
cataclysmic affected
every single atom of
her body.
He held her hand tight
and asked her if
she would help him
get through the heinous
storm.
She nodded with a constrained
smile on her face.
He didn't realize how hurt
She was.
Unfortunately, he  was the only
the one who could be a bandaid
and heal her scars.
She remained quiet and swallowed
the words back in.
Her secret remained a
secret which she couldn't
shrive .
It remained enclosed
to the world.
Losing him as a friend was
something she couldn't
afford.
So she just let it die
and bother her inside.
She buried it deep inside
her heart and completely
concealed it where no one
could find it.
But neither of them were at fault.
Both of the wanderers craved
loved on that night.
Sitting so close, fingers interlinked,
they were stuck in an esthetical
mess of love and insanity.
The two paths had
finally met but a night had
never seemed so
Solitudinarian before.

I once was something
that I am not now
too much shock
to the system
caused a retreating
away from the world
into myself

A solitudinarian
while my systems
shut down
preparing to reboot

a cocooning occurred
followed by
metamorphosis
then transformation
reordering of
damaged cells
damaged goods
a regeneration
following
the assasination
of my juvenescense
by his malefic mind

6 years
living in the jar
hermetically sealed
spinning silken threads
around myself
tears hardening the shell
impenetrable
invisible
making myself small quiet
wanting to be unwanted
looking to be unnoticed
retired from a life not yet begun
necessity for survival
dictated the state of play
all the while thinking feeling
questioning
then throwing away
all my mislaid assumptions
my mantra

* I want to be happy
a happy life
I will not let him have it
my life is mine
my joy is mine
my freedom is mine
he has taken enough
I am taking happiness back *

an unremarkable day
the day I woke up
revivified
able again to draw a full breath
without flinching
without waiting
for his reaction
I ran in the park barefoot
I swam in the ocean
laying on the beach after
toes in the warm sand
the sun drying me
free
a child again renewed

J.C. honey-tiger 16/08/2019. 4.44am.

To stay in good health
make sure you distance yourself
from everybody

                              Kelly McManus

I feel honored, and flattered to acquaint myself (a married youthful looking sexagenarian solitudinarian from southeastern Montgomery County, Pennsylvania), yet feel awkward at jump/kick starting a rapport.

Literate lettered latitudinarian looms larger than life

Presents the following slapdash
higglety-pigglety bupkis, whereby reader
experiences being mentally hogtied
perusing pseudo poetic perambulation
devoid of sense and sensibility
welcoming character assassination
concerning pride and prejudice
of yours truly (me),
who merely strung together
words sharing "arian"

as their last five letters
for no particular rhyme nor reason
quite aware that forced gobbledygook
underwrites storied reputation
of unnamed aspiring author
cramming nonsense linkedin
jibber-jabber hodgepodge fashion
deplorable basketed mumbo jumbo
giving pop slop a run for its' money.

Yours truly (me) considers himself
(courtesy obsessive compulsive fixation
with alphabetization even when dreaming
counting sheep jumping
over figurative fence by first name)
drawn toward being abecedarian,
albeit hankers being agrarian,
yet I consider myself suburban simian
(a garden variety **** sapiens)
no more significant than alcyonarian

expressing his antiauthoritarian,
intolerance toward antiegalitarian,
antihumanitarian, antilibertarian,
agog over antiquarian tomes replete
with antitotalitarian manifesto buzzfeeding
ma (zee papa's) sixty plus shades of gray,
cuz hive got news for you
courtesy me, a generic erudite apiarian,
non-aquarian, once mighty araucarian,
(when during Jurassic
and Cretaceous periods

our family achieved maximum diversity
distributed across almost entire
webbed wide world), nevertheless
one humble wordsmith
decries authoritarian, barbarian, Cesarean
segmentation of rooted centenarian elders
strongly resembling cnidarians,
who foster communitarian, contrarian
culinarian, disciplinarian,
disestablishmentarianism

decrees expatiating dogmatic,
emphatic, idealistic duly strict ethos
incorporating freedom of the press
documentarian, egalitarian
establishmentarian, filarian favoring fruitarian
disavowing jump/kickstaring futilitarian endeavors
administering grammarian, hereditarian,
questioning humanitarian
versus inegalitarian paradigms
celebrating progressive legislation

courtesy coterie as Democratic jubilarian
attributing insights to sustenance
comprising Diet of Worms
and laminarian, which boosts rock ribbed
lapidarian, libertarian, librarian lunarian,
who dons gay apparel and trumpets
majoritarian fly in the ointment milarian
espousing millenarian credo,
whereby absent free will necessitarian
forces at large effect staid

senior citizens, especially nonagenarian,
advocating nonauthoritarian, bookish nonlibrarian
nonsectarian, nontotalitarian, nonutilitarian,
beefy nonutilitarian, nonvegetarian,
and octogenarian brethren,
begat in part courtesy
ovarian haploid gamete,
which offspring could trend toward
ovolactovegetarian maybe collecting
parian ware adornments

pricey merchandise afforded
courtesy parliamentarian income
sessions conducted (without resistance),
whereby officials closely resemble
blood ******* planarian ceaselessly
patting each other
(and themselves) on the back
congratulating exulting, gushing
ala Old Faithful platitudinarian
attributing their foibles to postlapsarian

forebears awaiting salvation postmillenarian
bags already packed eagerly
awaiting deliverance into seventh heaven
as promised by divine
predestinarian time analogous
to virtuous age of innocence
re: prelapsarian or lost souls peopling congress
and house of representatives
purportedly official do bidding
for proletarian class of population

once upon bajillion years
in the past initial life forms
similar to radiolarian
propelled themselves thru primordial sea
after lapse of eons diverse riparian organisms
with nary a hint of vocations
such as rosarian, sanitarian, sectarian
seminarian dedicated worker
still going strong
as septuagenarian, or sexagenarian.

adieu from one:
solitudinarian sublibrarian totalitarian trinitarian
turbellarian uniformitarian unitarian utilitarian
valetudinarian pseudo vegetarian veterinarian
and vulgarian zoantharian.

Black flag(s) show up
on social media platforms
when potential homicidal maniac(s)
communicate(s) intent to strike
with ambush and ready
read - able, eager, and willing
to embark upon murderous rampage.

Prospective killer armed to the teeth
usually a young bucking male
between ages of eighteen and twenty five
wielding, targeting subjects then firing
high powered choice powered guns such as:
Bushmaster XM15-E2S rifle;
Glock 20SF handgun
.22LR Savage Mark II bolt-action rifle
or AR-15-style rifle,
a popular range of semiautomatic weapons.

After countless shooters on the loose
wreaking havoc vis a vis carnage
****** death and destruction
indelibly etched upon consciousness
regarding every surviving person,
who hears and especially
witnesses the terrible and horrible news
anesthetized, brutalized, traumatized, et cetera
for his/her remaining existence.

Violent deadly crime spree shoots upward;
gun owners indiscriminately brandish
loaded firearms toward innocent victims,
and concomitantly excite anguish
purported in accordance
with first amendment relish,
yet proliferation allowing
free ranging banshee dervish
sans weapons of mass destruction
(mainly innocent lives)

inures citizens to appear standoff fish
U.S., and self-important solitudinarian
becoming comfortably numb
at regular headlines detailing
some lone hooligan a bit mish
hug ha, an automatic killer
methodically unloading with a swish
multitudinous cartridges attempt
oddly to even the score, a wish
to take revenge viz a personal vendetta
amidst the madding crowds -
utter oy vey - tis Yiddish.

Such proliferation of
high-powered assault pistols
graph berserk arc with surging blip
bipedal hominid(s) deadly grip
handling barrel as dirk in case the clip
doth miss the mark,
where siege mentality induces
nationwide sprinting infamy to drip
metamorphosing into igneous
malignant state with curled (Elvis) lip
mailer daemon hell bent
on besieging bait (unaware nip

*** nap noopy snapchatting beings)
bursting with deadly quip
with a barrage of bullets
malicious intent to spray;
killing machines delivering rip
paying deathly howls
amidst pandemonium, thence funereal slip
epitaphs etched on tombstones proliferate
taking souls to Hades trip
loved ones next of kin tragic loss
analogously suffering courtesy
stinging invisible whip.

More often than not
such brutal and nasty team
(short lived) nefarious scheme
unleashing angry people to rage and scream
directed at humble lettered people
like those comprising ream
member ring my hometown -
once evoked with pastoral meme
of Lake Wobegon minding
their p's and q's, when in the extreme

and out of the blue like a nightmare
interrupting an idyllic dream
a sudden bitta bing bitta bang
rings terrorist catcall followed
by red tide and river of bloodying
bodied of hue men caskets
rendered veneer of dark wood
within lies mutilated corpse,
pistol whipped, where mortician
daub with creme.

Soundcloud(s) boom(s) across,
thus occurs yet another
staccato sinister sonic thunder
across the pearl jam gray slate
of some formerly anonymous
name sake, which underling of bossed
son or daughter blasting
bombardment blitzkrieg shells cross
invisible trajectories shatter
at uber twittering, shutterfly speed,

the democratic rubric - rendered as dross
disposable lives of society
with senseless slaughter,
whereat somber silence
echoes nostalgia for the Mill on the Floss
when life seemed so innocent
against the gun metal gloss
wails of agony at another human loss
elapsing years tombstone covered with moss.

This epidemic re:
murderous love affair perfervid
with gruesome morbid
fixation allowing, enabling
and providing terrifying
trappings, whence went Pandora out the lid
anger loosed maniacally gun down
(in S-L-O-W mo) recorded by hid
den madding crowd, each person
locked in crosshair grid
source (perhaps pathetic plan
premeditated) employing did
da ding from flying bullets,
a coterie upping the ante vis a vis bid
ding fare thee well from odious
loading incendiary fiery clips.

Trigger happy homicidal maniacs slake thirst
finding me being verbally bullied
seem oh so yesterday
to take aim in billeted soiree
with deadly precision, and spray
with pump posse city,
a congregated engaged groupon
of people), with egregious pay

shunt and methodically
mowing down, a slew - nay
re: doth unsuspecting
victim aware - delivering melee
layered mayhem to this anonymous
American citizen as well
family and survivors, who lay
down their sorrows,
which bring revulsion and gray
obsolescence of faith in mankind to fray.

Death be not proud,
nor ought airtime allocated to these
heinous cavalier avengers
foe tee eight-hour special (proffers
twitchy finger itching to squeeze
especial easy access
to sophisticated high caliber compact
offspring doth please
manifesting those prize pride

killing machine owners never freeze
rapaciously with so much ease
lethal gimcrackery cutlasses
even a lil whippersnapper kite runner
unleashing whipping cords
will serve you more
lacerating more so than ropes will ever do
necessitate strong control
to stem violence as disease.

Resplendent and divine
One day of the month
Absent and Darkness
A fortnight later
Complete to Empty
Transition monthly
Comes with darkness
Shines with the stars
Accessible to mankind
Yet seems so far
Brings with it
Beauty and glory
Known for the dark sides of many stories
Brings with it an eerie silence
Its reflection on the water fable
Zen buddist favorite example
Beauty it is
Reflecting the Sun
Duty on borrowed glory
A character in many a story
A companion for loneliness
Meditative in its travel
Watch it and it unravels
Reflecting your heart
Cleansing your soul
Solitudinarian s best friend
Greeted by empty streets and
People under the sheets
Provides the best ambience
Mother nature's instructions
Romance and Dinner
Under the moonlight
A magic sight it provides
The light it provides in Darkness
Is the sanity and hope it provides mankind
Moon leads the way for the heart
As the Sun does to thoughts
Plays supporting role
To the prevalent tenesplendorbrosity
Never prides on its
Leaves it to its audience to be the racounter

Childhood campy chimera curtain call
subsequently hinting (based on accuweather)
the approach of blizzard squall
so burrow under quilted cover y'all
until warm temperatures arrive when springtime
ushers social media platforms
buzzfeeding earthlinked instant karma
jump/kickstarting linkedin outlook
twittering romance in the air that's zall
mother nature holds in store
after Old Man Winter
(lame as a duck this year)
attempts to make one last hooha.

Arctic bitter dead of winter cold
ice sole ace shun finds solitudinarian
to ******* (not prematurely)
shiver me timbers
cursing fate (and diagnosis of
schizoid personality disorder) for being alone
while polar vortex deep sub zero temperatures
freezes each lovely bone
excellent existential prized memory
swimmingly recalls boyhood

listening to drone
of various and sundry
en deer ring fauna
extant amidst greensward,
where imagination hath flown
to imaginary Eden lyft ting
uber a maize zing ears
cocked while doodling towards
Mother Nature's petsmart crafted chorus
flushing out soundcloud

queen of happy campers
with bees zee winged
wonders as they hone
suite tracks unstinting
well crafted aural presentations
intended to entice
a mate opposite jejune
targeting their search
nsync with one or another
favorable counterpart, this buzzing

destiny could favor a loon
or some other apropos biological entity
(or perchance if desperate
to mate) **** sitter
another species including the manifestation
of microbes on the moon
whereat boys and girls bounding,
exclaiming, and yelping
joie de vivre asper when counselors
blow whistle call at high noon
hour of day iz lunch, thence resuming

their made up fun and par lore games
such as knight in shining armor
dashing off to save
damsel in distress signaling
heroism asserts itself really soon
sans SOS and favorite ringtone
(emulating Fisher Price) tune
of potential prince
where young love doth Flickr
oblivious to a similar situation, aye lichen
to avast Marcy's playground.

Such panoply a prediction
forecast by Doctor Punxsutawney Phil
a blue oyster cult meme burr
thus, in layperson terms
six more weeks of winter for 2023 -
so stay warm to stave off feeling offal
bodes ill for species who clamor for warmth -
supposed tell tale shadow

spelt "N+I+L+L"
and remain in hibernation
if opportunities allow,
and be thankful for not bing forced to mill
around seeking warmth
(case in point a street person),
but ye and the big or 'lil
body of warm flesh adjacent to thee

(this day and age -
unlike stereotypical storybook account
about Jack of all trades and Jill
exhibiting traditional garb
many kin did instill  
gender preference a moot factor),
or take stock, stock and barrel,
how other creatures great and small

burrow underground under a hill
(shaped like an upside down pineapple)
or reef amphibians, mammals, reptiles...
instinct can remain
20,000 Leagues Under The Sea
a fictitious place evoked by Jules Verne,...
hmm...maybe he might breathe
courtesy of an atavistic gill,
who would downplay brouhaha
to avoid any cavil;
nevertheless any objectionable content
forward complaint to yours truly
stating point of view
before the end of April.

rather yours truly doth thrive
on keeping the ethos, mythos,
and pathos of Pigpen alive
subjected to eternal
abomination, brutalization,
condemnation, damnation,
emasculation, humiliation, ostracization,
who one day envisions himself
as a decrepit solitudinarian
an aging long haired baby boomer,

(I seriously contemplate donating
about a dozen inches of straggly hair
to locks of love, hoping
a stylist makes house calls -
since anticipatory anxiety
wracks these lovely bones
at the prospect
of setting foot inside a salon)
wherefore he might finally
cease to be a subject of derision,

but please do not chide,
a sexagenarian whose bruised ego
experienced more'n lifetime
worth of rejection,
whose first three plus decades
(approximately half my existence)
of mein kampf livingsocial I gingerly elide
where persona non grata of Charlie Brown
(essentially portrayed as a loser)
on his keister he did glide

cuz unkind behavior
demonstrated by Lucy Van Pelt
without fail always pulls away the football
disclosing her character,
who harbors spitefulness inside
earning her another point
of maliciousness notated
on the figurative blackboard,
when I chalked up and kreide.

The Peanuts gallery
populated pleasure reading
during mine boyhood
as well as the Little Engine that Could,
whose disposition evinced a solitary lad
never delinquent except one attempt
to get caught shoplifting a yoyo at Ames
Department store in Lansdale,
but other than that amazingly as all good
boys do fine.

Matter of fact quite few other comic strips
ranked as my favorite back when I read
the Philadelphia Inquirer Sunday edition
approximately two thirds
of threescore and three years ago
(approximately half life
of Matthew Scott Harris)
I cannot forget other comic strip titled
Andy Capp, Beetle Bailey,
Berkeley Breathed, Blondie,

Brenda Starr Reporter,
Calvin and Hobbes
Dennis the Menace, Dilbert,
The Far Side, For Better or For Worse,
Frank and Earnest,
Fred Basset, Garfield,
Hägar the Horrible,
Mutt and Jeff, Nancy, Pogo,
Shoe, The Family Circus, Tumbleweeds,
The Lockhorns,
The Wizard of Id, and Ziggy.

So many choices availed themselves
regarding how to while away
my leisure hours during
those fleeting twenties,
thirties, and forties of mine,
but yours truly (me)
frequently, easily, and decidedly
found contentment then and now
among the rank and file
of other not ready
for prime time players
soaking up newsworthy morsels
and if not reading aforementioned material
than appeasing the insatiable bookworm
holed up within corporeal complex edifice
housing these lovely bones  
cerebrally feasting on a favorite genre
possibly fulfilling hunger
for historical fiction
or miscellaneous nonfiction.

Sentient beings distraught
psyche rent asunder
courtesy false accusations
heated words exchanged like gunfire
pox upon the house of Deborah Hunter,
a vicious vindictive
girlish looking septuagenarian woman
buzzfeeding unfounded conspiracy
that the missus steals packages
ever since we moved here
at Highland Manor Apartments

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

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

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

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

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

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

Writer of these words,
a former Lower Providence inhabitant,
who dwelled within darkest depths
of Dante Alighieri's inferno
for most of his outlandish, impish,
and devilish growing up years
witnessed microscopic scrimmage,
where spermatozoan with most forcefulness
muscled itself handedly,
magnificently, and splendidly
envision unicellular olympic competition,

yours truly swimmingly
begot during the heat
of parents being passionately fruitful
courtesy diploid erogenous frisson
between my then searingly
robust virile father and fecund mother
~ late March/early April 1958
ushered seminal moment
post ova fertilization realization
courtesy male gamete

penetrating zona pellucida
a glycoprotein layer surrounding the oocyte
triggering cell bait multiplication
subsequently yielding male
gendered offspring and sole son
hashtagged as uber twittering, snapchatting,
shutterflying super duper
cute little boy with short strawberry blond hair,
whose solitudinarian nature
became quite evident when he displayed
acute social withdrawal

upon off fish shill commencement
getting schooled as a grouper
by mister Hooper,
who made his debut
appearance on Sesame Street
November 10, 1969
as storied and staple long time resident
on above named television show
until March 18, 1983,
beloved by adults and children alike

within make believe community
(a conglomerate of real and imaginary locales)
peopled with proprietary named characters
for any of a number of humorously grotesque
glove or rod puppets and marionettes,
chiefly representing animals,
first popularized, idolized,
dramatized, capitalized, and actualized
by the children's television programme
Sesame Street (1969-) and more recently
in The Muppet Show (1976-80).

Also: a toy made to resemble one of these
ingenious brainchild of Jim Maury Henson
an American puppeteer, animator, actor,
and filmmaker who achieved worldwide
notability as the creator of the Muppets
which series originated as two pilot episodes
produced by Henson for ABC in 1974 and 1975.

Henson's shocking, sudden death occurred on May 16, 1990 of ***** failure resulting from streptococcal toxic shock syndrome. An emotional memorial service was held five days later at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York City.

My humble apology
for inducing thee
to manure yourself
thru figurative following ****,
best flushed down the toilet
of the behavioral sink
why yours truly wretchedly reaches out
cuz I never experienced popularity
as witnessed like craze of yoyo hula hoop
impossible mission to categorize
one feeble hominid specimen as belonging
to **** sapiens group,

nor doth mine spiel attempt to dupe
luck hate, or sell thee anything
except the pleasure
of befriending, daring ye to risk
fondling me buttucks -
their shiny happy cheeks,
cuz that came fresh out of a shower
whatever twerks for flirting
maybe even an affectionate boop
thankfully me schnoz
just cute as a button
and said nosu not outsize nor adroop.

Yours truly solitudinarian by default;
Nevertheless, I recognize the necessity
to evince good humored nature.

I evince amazingly graceful social politesse,
whether non verbal acknowledgement
courtesy a genuine smile
or querying passerby
with cheery non-threatening risky
"how art thou?"

Hence a poem embedded
within aforementioned poem
Acta non verba... speaks volumes.

The above ad hoc Latin catchphrase,
which means 'Deeds not Words'
(concatenated with two English words),
I regale chance reader
immediately sets saddles ablaze
title of poem with timeless adage,
aptly suits this solitary
older male, whose daze
spent on planet Earth

aimless, colorless, goalless,
and objectless curriculum vitae
configures a zigzag maze
significant blocks of time
poorly aye now appraise
and rue so little forethought
wrought starry eyed glaze
amiss to any Amish,
colonial, horse drawn observer

passing by in their chaise
puzzled, asper my
doggone catatonic gaze
indicative as if me mind
lost in a foggy haze
yours truly attests,
concurs, he now flays
chastises, fulminates, lays
hard and heavy lament,

albeit cloistered frivolous,
lackadaisical, unproductive... ways
apathetic, estranged, indifferent...
ambivalent state comatose phase
toward life, when at young age
lacked joie de vivre evincing braise
zen lee oblivious zombie behavior
upon quick observation displayed craze
zee demeanor synonymous

with institutionalized craze
zee wardens of the state,
and at present realize futility to raise
hullabaloo, when 20/20 hindsight
shines figurative light on
how appeared to laze
about lost in space,
within outer limits
of my own twilight zone ways.

No matter Tuesday, November 5, 2024
still one hundred and eight days away,
(thank you Julian Date Calendar -
FOR LEAP YEARS ONLY),
I believe a foregone conclusion
that Donald Trump will win
based on the pathetic debate performance
between Joseph Robinette Biden Junior,
and Donald John Trump
in tandem with the stellar performance
of the latter at the Republican National Convention,
which appeared to surpass great expectations,
a gut reaction, cuz I could not stomach watching
the main star and near future dictator.

I may view some or all of
The Democratic Convention
scheduled to be held August 19 to 22, 2024,
at the United Center in Chicago, Illinois,
and by tradition, because the Democratic Party
currently holds the White House,
said convention will be conducted
after the 2024 Republican National Convention,
which was held from July 15 to 18, 2024.
Nevertheless, yours truly
will not betray his political party loyalty
to cast his vote for the former named candidate
and simultaneously brace himself emotionally
drafting gofundme site with catchy slogan
and image showing tin cup hand
for sudden homelessness
of myself and the missus,
the result of social security disability,
AETNA ADVANTRA MEDICARE,
and Medicaid being axed, gutted, slashed, et cetera
as well as many other socially progressive programs
unless this gassy, generic, gifted, and goofy guy
experiences an unexpected windfall.

Actually... another alternative exists
videre licet despite the admission,
I don't really feel ready to die,
and the spouse would **** me
if she finds out one bumbling,
doodling, fiddling, hemming
and hawing, jump/kick starting wordsmith
would dare leave, whereby
she would lack
her figurative rock of Gibraltar.

The idea to emigrate to Canada,
or just drive until reaching north
of the border dividing line much
more appealing, but no family or
friends linkedin to my network,
nor, cuz this solitudinarian can
call on nobody except an elder
sister living in Woodbury, New
Jersey, or a younger sibling (a
veritable globe trotter), she and
her husband call Bend, Oregon
their mostly permanent residence.

Yeah, I attest to be all talk and no action
envisioning myself made of stouter stuff
with the help of powder milk biscuits,
which gave me the courage
to acquire superhuman powers
which allows, enables, and provide
a guise to bedazzle readers
with my brilliance.

No other particular marketable skill can I avail
long story short mental health issues sabotaged
healthy development of body, mind, and spirit
evinced with difficulty similarly as challenging
as blind double amputee person learning Braille
when segueing from childhood's end to adolescence
experiencing puberty found me
fraught with emotional travail
vivid remembrance of things past

taking piano lessons
at the house Missus Eva Youngblood,
where her daughter Barbara taught
courtesy John Thompson's
Modern Course for the Piano -
numerous lesson books
helped yours truly learn
how to tickle the ivory keys
at some point, I succumbed
to severe grievous state
collapsed in a heap
on the floor and softly wailed
lamentably plaintively sobbing
pausing between weeping
to ******* “I cannot live any more,”
or some such sentiment.

Ted Goldberg, a psychiatrist
at Collegeville Counseling
did his level best to draw out
responses from a little boy
who remained mute,
and said degreed professional resorted
to play one or more popular board games
which choice of activity
elicited non verbal reaction,
and needless to say this approach
slowly but surely gradually
found with the aid of melirill -
(thioridazine HCl) an anti-psychotic medication
in the phenothiazine class
used to treat psychotic disorders
such as schizophrenia and elavil -
medication used to treat depression.
Amitriptyline belongs to a class
of drugs known as tricyclic antidepressants.

Both prescription medications eventually
bore figurative fruit,
and coaxed my tongue to wag.

Anorexia nervosa got nipped in the bud
before I literally starved to death,
totally undermining mental, physical,
and spiritual well being
presenting impossible mission
for this then seventh grade student
assigned to section 7B1
(if memory serves me correctly)
to assimilate lecture material,
thus scoring the lowest marks
with flying colors
(such as black, blue, and red),
and getting promoted

by the skin of my teeth,
with mine ancient history
adding up to being
a deplorable basket case
thru the remaining years I attended
Methacton Junior/Senior High School
actually at some arbitrary petticoat juncture
I gave up exerting one iota of intelligence
and adopted apathy, and honestly failed
at receiving an education,
cuz yours truly occupied a desk,
but never uttered a peep,
thus succeeded (as inscribed
on my curriculum vitae)
Matthew Scott Harris
did an exemplary job
taking up space and time.

exuding suave debonair air
plus head and shoulders taller
(than the empire state building -
hey what's a little hyperbole, eh?)
since September eleventh
two thousand and twenty four,
which date marked a major change
(yes folks - more important
than getting married)

during threescore and two years
incorporating mein kampf
voluntarily (and without bribery,
but with liberty and justice for all)
to maintain a scheduled appointment
at Salon Nova,
an upscale hair cutting/styling boutique
located at 377 W Ridge Pike A,
Limerick, Pennsylvania 19468.

This recently unkempt
aging married sexagenarian
and solitudinarian sultan of swing
long haired pencil neck geek
self adopted behavior modification
particularly regarding maintaining
personal hygiene of mine
woke as if from somnambulant state
and kept promise to himself.

About twelve inches of brown tresses
got cut off courtesy in a small number
of fell swoops videre licet,
whereby the beautician
amazingly gracefully brandished scissors and brush
immediately creating lightness of being
which locks of brunette strands
tinged with gray
got donated to a charity
that repurposes hair

into wigs for various
and sundry purposes,
thus empowered
to contribute a part of myself
that will grow back -
(yet... I WILL NOT GO BACK
thank you Kamala Harris for birthing phrase
TO PRESENTING SLOVENLY APPEARANCE)
in gentle waves
cascading down to my knees
as happened umpteen times

during mein kampf,
the first instance
of revolutionary physical transformation
occurred when yours truly
a mere stripling of a pubescent teen
receiving psychiatric treatment
from Ted Goldberg,
(who prescribed both mellaril and elavil),
and he patiently nursed psyche of mine
severely afflicted with anorexia nervosa

in tandem with
obsessive compulsive disorder
tied with exaggerated fixation with hair,
which characteristic donning my noggin
became the most important reason for living,
I would sooner have died than get a haircut,
(spoiler alert, I did not die nor **** myself),
yet interestingly enough
he accompanied me
to a local barber in Collegeville,

who did the deed done dirt cheap,
yet I invariably returned to being
a long haired pencil neck geek
plodding along the boulevard of broken dreams,
where according to Fiona Apple
The Idler Wheel Is Wiser
Than the Driver of the *****
and Whipping Cords Will Serve You
More Than Ropes Will Ever Do.

All kidding aside,
said voluntary makeover undertaken
cause unnecessary emotional energy
and quite a chunk of time
invested lavishly shampooing hirsute pate,
and subsequently applying blow dryer
to fluff up ample mane,
that gnarly retched ma tailbone - ha!

Another significant reason
spurring long overdue decision
to present a handsome chap,
albeit modesty prevents excessive
self adulation, ******* (not premature),
ego inflation, amplitude
and attitude modulation of same
to disallow being snickered at
as if I happen to be from Mars.

Sorry keeping a figurative straight face
impossible mission for this word punster,
jokester, and grandmaster without a super plan.

Yours truly (me) made long overdue transition
from schlep to mensch