A thousand love poems yoking to pages you will never read.
Though some have slipped from my reach,
Seeking refuge from the muse, responsible for their existence.
L is for lion.
And is what you are.

Throned in splendor, immortal Aphrodite!
Child of Zeus, Enchantress, I implore thee
Slay me not in this distress and anguish,
Lady of beauty.

Hither come as once before thou camest,
When from afar thou heard'st my voice lamenting,
Heard'st and camest, leaving thy glorious father's Palace golden,

Yoking thy chariot. Fair the doves that bore thee;
Swift to the darksome earth their course directing,
Waving their thick wings from the highest heaven
Down through the ether.

Quickly they came. Then thou, O blessed goddess,
All in smiling wreathed thy face immortal,
Bade me tell thee the cause of all my suffering,
Why now I called thee;

What for my maddened heart I most was longing.
"Whom," thou criest, "dost wish that sweet Persuasion
Now win over and lead to thy love, my Sappho?
Who is it wrongs thee?

"For, though now he flies, he soon shall follow,
Soon shall be giving gifts who now rejects them.
Even though now he love not, soon shall he love thee
Even though thou wouldst not."

Come then now, dear goddess, and release me
From my anguish. All my heart's desiring
Grant thou now. Now too again as aforetime,
Be thou my ally.

It's blinding
how many stars there are.
Not just millions,
but trillions of blazing specks
that are just floating,
burning in absolute nothing.  
And they do it for no reason,
there's no goal that unites them,
no yoking drive or resolution
other than the pure instinct to just do,
to just be.
And despite all this
purposelessness
they still burn with the hottest of fire,
unfathomable fire.
Kinda makes me jealous.
But somehow
people only wonder how.
In fact, they dedicate their short lives
just to answering that one tiny question
about these things we see at night.
But what I'm wondering is why.
Why so many?
Why trillions of these things just there burning?

You'd think we ought to have figured it out by now.

It was a wild alto-wielding sax man, screeching with halted notes and dissonant disregard for the folks and their fortune that awoke the birds, and the unyielding flock would mask the sky as two lovers kiss on a bench with flaking paint. The shores are prevailing, the yoking eggs would seep through cracks in the counter while children squeal and leave stains on the walls. Walking through forsaken habitats and dingy rats are bastardising the progression of time and in turn, they confuse a poet as he composes the castigated texts of his forlorn memories.
It was here that piano keys shook the core of the Earth with trembling recompense, and furthermore would eventually seek to unify the tribes of long suffering lands into the rambling herd that stampede through river basins, with alphabets falling from their back pockets. Ah black sky, with your inherent displeasure and disquiet, why are you crying on me tonight? The stars are as despairing as I.
I take your hand and lead you through green-light flickering corridors, as the rats are congregating and confusing us once more. Water drops overhead and we fall into chasms of disparity, holding onto piping that scolds our waning fingers, leaving us foreboding and dumb. Numb to the illicit sirens and the implications of urban living. And your body is sullen, as the Antelope are liberated, but with woe I could feel the icy chill that radiates from you and your once heated body.
Tire tracks, hurried, and the rats find no suspect, so with wringing hands I step into the sunlight and feel the blue sky ramifications and remember your name.
Gravel track buried, the flocks would return to nest in romantic trees, and I find myself alone as the sun rescinds its gaze, placing me in darkness once more.
And the alto-man continues to sing through tubular declaration, as the steadily raging war provides rhythm to the desolate streets and I feel disconnected.

any holiday can go on and commit suicide in some old ****
coconut
postcard, I reckon.
it’s alrite here.
it’s not burning and the sand is a lame type of concrete, but
it has a lot of life. there’s even coral here, I probably need you
to call me up and have you explain it to me
but it’s here
all the same;
there’s howling monkeys that can open yoking orange suns, that
don’t know what to do, we wont ignore them though;
they keep on skipping around
pulling
the tide up to our seats-like they like the raw smell we give off
its normal in the city but unknown here
we fight- nothing
the world dives into itself
and see’s that it still sings
the resort keeps on beating behind the eyes of the falling sunset
the calls of our skin are catnip to the flying things and moving things
we walk across the beach as it follows from 11 to 3 and 4am.
it dies and leaves the moon screaming
in sirens within the black distance of the shore
the vehicle that comes as we sleep
holds open the road with our eyes
and remains eternally as we wake.

There's kings for drinking,
There's cups for smoking,
The dance-floor's for yoking,
Throw the doors open;
The chemical dimensions
beckon, and we gather
to answer their call.
We'll never be broken.

Primordial chants
YAH VEH
YAH VEH
YAH VEH
meditating in the soul of the black onyx beads.

Frozen drops of bliss nestling in the sinews,
soaking me in its sublime stillness,
leading me to its philharmonic depth,
yoking me to its cosmic vibes.

I sublimate
to become the chants
that pulsate in the soul
of the black onyx beads...

the new boyfriend
now the gone boyfriend

such fun we did have
that first morning

what is your name?
I can't remember yours either

how much fun is that
after a crazy night

barking dog
wandering paws

such delight

hotels, bars, roads
in common

lives lived in parallel
at the same time

movies, songs
memories

laughter, yoking
such great fun

chasms of differences
matriarchy patriarchy

making someone into
what you like

i've been there too
how funny to have you

do that to me too

endless days
and nights

of talking
dancing

voraciously consuming
one another's forms

ah the adventure
ah the divine touch

seeing yourself in
the other

duality at its
very very best

duality at its
very very worst

you can't save another
nor fix them

the road
is a solitary one

the work is hard
and it plumbs the depth of your soul

of who you are

don't waste your time
in this life

recognize who
and what you are

we are ALL
the ONE

see yourself in
each and every creature

each and every being
every tree

every star
every celestial object

each and every drop of rain
and every body of water

laugh like a child
cry like a child

love like there is no tomorrow

nothing is ever lost
only changing form


om mani padme hung

primary idiopathic palmar/
palmoplantar hyperhidrosis
despite taking  Glycopyrrolate
2 MG Tablet three times daily.

Aforementioned physiological malady
the bane worse than death
unwanted and unwonted figurative
(metaphorical) beast of burden
linkedin with matrix constituting mine
corporeal essence genetically
gifted to yours truly,
invariably, objectionably, and unquestionably
afflicts, impacts, and upsets
emotional (mental) health
diagnosed with schizoid personality disorder
and aggravated, jump/kickstarted, triggered...,
when body electric
of mine experiences duress.

Tis no fun unable
to join in any reindeer games
(actually quite aggravating)
to experience chronic instances,
whereby profuse sweat drips
(think rivaling Angel Falls),
the loftiest falls on land
inducing extreme self
consciousness and embarrassment.

Socialization compromised,
jeopardized, and sabotaged
against natural proclivity to fraternize,
thus avoidance behavior
(i.e. social distancing) rigorously practiced
way before coronavirus (COVID-19)

mandated staying at least 6 feet
(about 2 arm's length) from other people.
I vaguely recollect even while in utero
sweaty hands cooled courtesy amniotic fluid
yet subsequently observing consternation
obstetrician displayed as

itty bitty teensy weensy fingers
dripped - think faucet turned on full force.
Mein kampf (predominantly
describes solitary existence)
severely exacerbated (still prominent)

ability to function undermined
courtesy deux part and parcel
significant aforestated physiological
and social congenital afflictions
somewhat ameliorated by
about half dozen prescription medications.

I keep hermetically sealed
within our single bedroom apartment
(we lucked out with unit B44
providing us scenic view)
climate controlled when weather
hazy, hot and humid
at sixty degrees Fahrenheit
(you do the math to figure
the Centigrade temperature),
nevertheless these stubby
five fingered appendages
ooze perspiration on par
with spigots gushing sweat.

Worse fate than death finds me
suffering one or more
dogged following plagues:
water turning to blood, frogs, lice,
flies, livestock pestilence, boils, hail,
locusts, darkness and killing
of firstborn children far less oppressive
versus being stricken with Hyperhidrosis.

Sain above identified unpleasant fallout
understandably, quintessentially, and inextricably
linkedin within every fiber
moost likely activated since conception - mine
body electric infiltrated nerve wracking
complex corporeal edifice
interestingly enough solely overbearing
while yours truly wide awake
bright tailed and bushy eyed,
yet sleep ofttimes brings

severely dislocating, disquieting
and discombobulating
subconscious nocturnal experiences,
which frightful, maniacal, and
phantasmagorical vivid dreams
undermines, oppresses, and impinges,
any joie de vivre
creating abominable hell on Earth
thus this dirt poor commoner
pronouncing his intent

to beg, borrow and/or steal
(sell my soul to the devil)
in a desperate effort to secure
and pay King's ransom
to rid myself once and for all
of parasite entrenched nemesis
bleeding dry, leeching, and yoking
writer christened Matthew Scott Harris,
whereby he doth regularly writhe in agony.

primary idiopathic palmar/
palmoplantar hyperhidrosis
despite taking  Glycopyrrolate
2 MG  Tablet three times daily.

Aforementioned physiological malady
unwanted and unwonted figurative
(metaphorical) beast of burden
linkedin with matrix constituting mine
corporeal essence genetically
gifted to yours truly,
invariably, objectionably, and unquestionably
afflicts, impacts, and upsets
emotional (mental) health
diagnosed with schizoid personality disorder.

Tis no fun unable
to join in any reindeer games
(actually quite aggravating)
to experience chronic instances,
whereby profuse sweat drips
(think rivaling Angel Falls),
the loftiest falls on land
inducing extreme self
consciousness and embarrassment.

Socialization compromised,
jeopardized, and sabotaged
against natural proclivity to fraternize,
thus avoidance behavior
(i.e. social distancing) rigorously practiced
way before coronavirus (COVID-19)

mandated staying at least 6 feet
(about 2 arms' length) from other people.
I vaguely recollect even while in utero
sweaty hands cooled courtesy amniotic fluid
yet subsequently observing consternation
obstetrician displayed as

itty bitty teensy weensy fingers
dripped - think faucet turned on full force.
Mein kampf (predominantly
describes solitary existence)
severely exacerbated (still prominent)

ability to function undermined
courtesy deux part and parcel
significant aforestated physiological
and social congenital afflictions
somewhat ameliorated by
about half dozen prescription medications.

I keep hermetically sealed
within our single bedroom apartment
(we lucked out with unit B44
providing us scenic view)
climate controlled when weather
hazy, hot and humid
at sixty degrees Fahrenheit
(you do the math to figure
the Centigrade temperature),
nevertheless these stubby
five fingered appendages
ooze perspiration on par
with spigots gushing sweat.

Worse fate than death finds me
suffering one or more
dogged following plagues:
water turning to blood, frogs, lice,
flies, livestock pestilence, boils, hail,
locusts, darkness and killing
of firstborn children far less oppressive
versus being stricken with Hyperhidrosis.

Sain above identified unpleasant fallout
understandably, quintessentially, and inextricably
linkedin within every fiber
moost likely activated since conception - mine
body electric infiltrated nerve wracking
complex corporeal edifice
interestingly enough solely overbearing
while yours truly wide awake
bright tailed and bushy eyed,
yet sleep ofttimes brings

severely dislocating, disquieting
and discombobulating
subconscious nocturnal experiences,
which frightful, maniacal, and
phantasmagorical vivid dreams
undermines, oppresses, and impinges,
any joie de vivre
creating abominable hell on Earth
thus this dirt poor commoner
pronouncing his intent

to beg, borrow and/or steal
(sell my soul to the devil)
in a desperate effort to secure
and pay King's ransom
to rid myself once and for all
of parasite entrenched nemesis
bleeding dry, leeching, and yoking
writer christened Matthew Scott Harris,
whereby he doth regularly writhe in agony.

drawn courtesy lots of byte size chalk.

When e'er I summon fat chance
to empower me self with courage
and steal a passing glance
in the mirror then instantaneously
hairline fractures appear
than 'afore long
snap, crackle, pop
becomes crystal clear,
whence aluminium glass mirror
(made of a float glass
incorporating additional processes)

leaves highly reflective
fractured surface patina 'ere
one narcissistic blackened barbed ken
whiles away countless hours
unseeingly preening, primping, and pruning
e'en the slightest glare
ring blemish finds cause
for cosmetic surgery
(namely liposuction)
evincing ghostly interlinear
crows feet and dark

circular "bags" that distinctly leer,
which medical term for skin folds
and ballotable skin edema
described as “festoon,”
or “malar mound,”
an eye sore overclear
demanding grotesque immediate
dermatological action
(if necessary) taking
extra adipose tissue from rear

end supposed extra junk in the trunk,
where moon a fish scent derrière,
would not be unduly sore,
perhaps requiring
(whatever would suture self)
plus donning extra padded underwear,
which subjugation voluntarily
"going under the knife,"
would stave off depredations aging
(such as puffy eyes)
at least for another year.

Until the end date regarding
mine cessation, damnation,
glorification -ha time on Earth
(hammered into crucifix
courtesy nine inch – rusty - nails)
my changed body morphology
particularly around equatorial girth
unwanted layers of flab allow, enable,
and provide me to burn wicked fat
these cold winter days and nights
serving yours truly as built in hearth.

Incremental corporeal essence, here
to forge i.e. figurative spear
tire of mine, doth elicit despair
daily appall, thus I air
part tickle laurel lei objection
able bane, cuz this tear
rubble flabbiness a glare
ring anatomical feature, I swear

shape shifted into a dare
ring ridge hubble unsightly
bulge ballooning mere
lee (just south of Montana) so clear
lee obscuring belly button – an innie , where
former washboard abdomen veer
hilly subsumed by displeasing scare
really hated love handles glare

ring paunches noticeable, especially
when abdomen bare
adduce, deed hoos, and
reed hoos sing the culprit bing
one or more beneficial
pharmacological prescription medications
eliminating debilitating crippling panic attacks,
albeit re: fashioning
now alien metabolism, but

necessary medications giving
immeasurable *** bull heaving
relief to this generally
autobiographical, comical, ecological,
grammatical, illogical, kinematical,
methodical, (parenthetical), rhetorical,
theoretical, vertical and  
xylographical off the old block  
exhibiting joyus rapture, where
psychological state contra dancing,
jitterbugging (a slight bit of hyperbole,
where I tango with) kickstarting

long overdue ability
to experience living
social shorn of paralyzing anxiety,
yes every now and again
isolated heated flare ups making
stellar cameo appearance, asper
rendering literal "NON
FAKE" pennilessness,

and non seek quit tore ring
excessive (no pun hush meant intended -
heavy handed) perspiration,
but generally "speaking" quieting
reductio ad absurdum unbearable
woebegone raging against the machine
adrenaline hellishly riotous smiting
body electric non verbally remonstrating

condemning indescribable torturing
poisoning relentlessly (like
stinging scorpions) upending
many prime decades vice wrenching
yoking ambivalence kamikaze
nose diving worthlessness toward
total mortal re: suicidal bombing mission.

I LOOK AROUND AND THERE'S AN EN DASH FOLLOWING ME

First time I've been
translated into Spanish.

First time I've seen myself
set out like - this:

Dónall Dempsey
— even put the fada on my Ó —

(1956 – )

Open brackets(then date then dash
then empty space)close brackets.

"Ahem...eh...if you can
excuse me...eh that would be me

you'er very own personal
en dash!"

It looked very pleased
with itself.

"You know for yoking dates together
and so...."
it said all too knowingly.

"Yes yes I know but why
are you talking to me now!"

I said annoyed and frightened

"If you could inform me when
you are going to go so...

I could complete my function
so to speak!"

I snapped the book shut.
Had a cup of tea.

My demise now
written upon the air.

      "But at my back I always hear
Time's winged en dash hurrying near;

And yonder all before me lie
Deserts of vast eternity"

Knowing there will come a day
when that en dash will

stick its knife in
for that "Et tu, Brute!" moment.

Time and again
jovial imp does succeed
at collecting aggregate of infinite moments
nabbing, snagging and yoking yours truly,
a fortitudinous erstwhile
citizen banker travels at warp speed
impossible mission to thwart tempus fugit
analogous to ambuscade by time thief
little rascal who steals
most precious commodity

right before mine myopic eyes
abstract artificial construct
hastens cradle to grave lifespan
hoping chance fellow
space traveler will read
these words, though quite futile
one skeptic could believe
he would experience salvation
prayerfully clasping hands
he doth gently plead

for nought, cuz greed
for immortality a wish
that does exede
by lightyears the outward bounds
for **** sapien breed
****** to die at birth
destroyed by space debris
aliens purportedly buzzfeed
feeling akin to crash test dummy
at mercy where asteroid
can annihilate me I accede.

Seconds, minutes, hours
days, weeks, months
and years speed away
free falling thru space/time continuum
superfluous to request belay,
nevertheless yours asks
for custom made sturdy rope
quite an accomplishment
given such short notice,
which said contrivance

would necessitate being wrapped
(while remaining rapt)
ensconced within outsize
full body jacket beltway
resembling human cocoon
after I pulled up the slack
essentially gifted to dark shadows
twenty four seven -
resembling edge of night
all the while

loosely tethered courtesy gravity
though feeling comfortably numb
zipping by the dark side of the moon
dreaming about Old rotten Gotham
sliding thru behavioral sink,
this while yahoo (me)
courtesy tenuous connection
suddenly severed Earthlink
simultaneously mouthing "Aw, Snap!"

No longer linkedin
with webbed wide world
bitta bing bitta bang
voodoo spell suddenly cast upon
uber hotmail, whereby
his poetic side tumblr unlocked
subsequently he resembles
an infinitesimal across
celestial sea ethereal
poetrysoup amidst creation,
a mere cosmic speck afloat
canvas studded heavens
starry night gallery.

I LOOK AROUND AND THERE'S AN EN DASH FOLLOWING ME

First time I've been
translated into Spanish.

First time I've seen myself
set out like - this:

Dónall Dempsey
— even put the fada on my Ó —

(1956 – )

Open brackets(then date then dash
then empty space)close brackets.

"Ahem...eh...if you can
excuse me...eh that would be me

you'er very own personal
en dash!"

It looked very pleased
with itself.

"You know for yoking dates together
and so...."
it said all too knowingly.

"Yes yes I know but why
are you talking to me now!"

I said annoyed and frightened

"If you could inform me when
you are going to go so...

I could complete my function
so to speak!"

I snapped the book shut.
Had a cup of tea.

My demise now
written upon the air.

      "But at my back I always hear
Time's winged en dash hurrying near;

And yonder all before me lie
Deserts of vast eternity"

Knowing there will come a day
when that en dash will

stick its knife in
for that "Et tu, Brute!" moment.

and still I feel infuriated at myself
concerning squandered funds
passively, senselessly, and willingly
surrendered nest egg
to computer hackers
(imposters, jackknifing, and liquidating)
coercing me to forfeit funds,
whereby yours truly (me) blindsided
thru convincing telephonic dialogue
witnessing unquestioned trust

I unquestioningly, unerringly, and unblinkingly
carried out instructions
essentially cadging, depleting, and exhausting,
checking and savings accounts (mine)
courtesy convincing scheme
yoking naïveté (mine)
with FAKE conspiratorial claims
Citizens Bank tellers
linkedin as thieving magpies
(twittering bird brain analogy

hatched courtesy yours truly – me)
once ridiculous ruse beak came obvious,
I never ceased
maligning self as half cracked egghead
repeatedly replaying telephonic scenario
only this time
with home grown perspicacity triumphant
and fraudsters, marauders, and usurpers
harangued, interrogated, and jailed
critiqued, maligned, and whipped
courtesy just law of the land.

Clear as day,
I still recall the bloke
who chose one alias
(probably quite a few
in his bag of tricks)
videlicet Harvey Specter,
he coaxed at least one poor sucker
(the writer of these words)
to fork over his life savings
without yours truly batting an eye,

whose gullibility now legion
among the posse of scoundrels
sharing the ease with which
money plucked out figurative fingers
(like taking candy from a child)
diminishing paucity of integrity,
increasing perspicacity of acuity,
where wool will never
be pulled over my eyes
(ewe can bet my bottom dollar)

against being fleeced,
and now a heightened awareness
a wretched costly life lesson
inflicting a painful financial contusion
additionally severely wrecking, pummeling,
and bruising psyche suddenly woke
keenly alert to the bad to the bone
doggone wicked wily weasel ways
of unrepentant rapscallions.

READING MY COMIC



"Do you know the plural
of S Y Z Y G Y ?"



"Noooo...but...I guess
S Y Z Y G I E S?"


"Yes...that fits..3 across!"


"Is it...even a word?"



"Oh yes it was recognised
as English in 1847


( astronomically that is ).



You know...a sort of
yoking together such as


occurs in an eclipse!"


"Rightttttttt!!!!!!!!!"



"Or it symbolises the
( in psychology )



the communication of
the conscious & unconscious mind!"


"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!"



"Or...you know ....the pairing of chromosomes
in meiosis?"


"Uh uh?"



She kissed me. . .
finished her Cryptic Crossword


in the time it took to land.



I went back to reading
my comic.

When the entire mug awash
with floating leavings
by golly by gosh,
sipping said herbal brew
analogous challenge
to eat spaghetti squash
with one chopstick.

Earlier yesterday February twenty fourth
two thousand twenty four
found yours truly (me)
blithely consuming delicious
La COLOMBE DOUBLE LATTE
cold iced latte, complete
with a frothy layer
of milk and a touch of sugar.

Lower gastrointestinal war civil
immediately declared
because yours truly beleaguered
by lactose intolerance.

Courtesy veritable sweet tooth
(er...rather dentures)
craved absolute zero sum game yoking,
wickedly villainous, x'acting tummy
upsetting Pavlovian salivating, romancing,
quid pro quo woe pea pie us, orthodox,
conventional, nun habit forming (Lie),
mouth watering, lip locked, kickstarting,
Je Suis ill lust trios, hymn bracing,
gobstopping, feasting immediate laxative
inducing, decadent chocolate baneful

cake courtesy of adoring bubela, (the
same over stuffed ego freezer oft
mentioned counterpart, who unwittingly
prepared spot of tea), charming,
hugely overpowering tenderly loving
zee missus diabolically exuding
"FAKE" gracious humane insinuating
jabbering, knowingly ill loo man hating,
needful offal pestiferous quasi rip
snorting, **** under fire, violent

whooshing, expelling xyz lower
abdominal contractions, indubitably
kindling, jumpstarting instagramming
howling, fostering execrable, debilitating,
besieging posterior, automatically
clutching derriere, experiencing ferocious
gluteus maximus intractable jabbing, knifing,
lacerating, mutilating nameless oaf (me),
painfully quaking das simian, torturously
undergoing vicious wretched excessive
yawping worse fate than death!

Otherwise *** hide from irritable bowel
syndrome approximately
twenty four hours ago
from Saturday February twenty fifth
two thousand twenty four
me quite yawningly wonderful, uneventful,
sedate, quiet, ordinary, mundane, languid,
joyously humdrum, fabulously for
two whit tuss lee drab
characterized local buttuck blaster
also hashtagged endearment
as bubble ****.

Now shall I cut thee a slice of outrageously
luscious, keister jump/kick starting heavenly
gourmet deluxe cheese cake?

I LOOK AROUND AND THERE'S AN EN DASH FOLLOWING ME

first time
I've been
translated into Spanish

first time
I've seen myself
set out like - this:

Dónall Dempsey
— even put the fada
on my Ó —

(1956 – )
open brackets(then date then dash
then empty space)close brackets

"Ahem...eh...if you can
excuse me...eh that would be me
you'er very own personal en dash!"

it looked
very pleased
with itself

"You know for yoking dates
together and so...."
it said all too knowingly

"Yes yes I know but why
are you talking to me now!"
I said annoyed and frightened

"If you could inform me when
you are going to go so...
I could complete my function!"

I  snapped
the book shut
had a cup of tea

my demise now
written
upon the air

"But at my back
I always hear
Time's winged en dash

hurrying near
and yonder all before me lie
Deserts of vast eternity"

knowing there
will come a day
when that en dash will

stick its knife in
for that
"Et tu, Brute!" moment

Surreal street
My neighbor's house still is green, gates open
Hangs from the clothes line, the halcyon image
Stuck inside these cold walls, a celadon boiling pan
In red and azure, granite and brick lay strewn
Like an unseen wind, that bellows in my neighborhood
Blue is the warmest summer, sun looks like day
When the skies turn to nubile solipsism, night changes
Polaroid of my childhood reminds me of the lost time, stars were fantastic
This was where I grew tanner and older, now we have grown
We just have love in common, there goes the police
Yoking together law and power, a colored footprint
Turning the graves more and more, concrete trees
Exiling the tenants, food for free
Keeping the truth alive though, but hope has died
The missing girl has now come back, with a Siamese cat short
She is on a holiday, in the UK
She reads much of the night, and goes away
Lest the memories feed on her lung, tail and heart
Tales from a storefront, is her only recluse
Her friend is now a balloon