Paul Dice

A 21st century apostle strove to ease our appalling quandary
ameliorating the sensation sans being caught
between the devil and the dark blue sea,
This tethered to the oblate spheroid earthling
doth strive toward savoir-faire re:
As the fickle finger of fate flicks this mortal being
hither and yon inducing a que
zee ripcord backlash inducing thine
angst riddled psyche to create a non prithee
picture thy sense of doom and gloom,
Where deer antelope ply Wildwood furies
of Agamemnon playing Beach House olly
Olly oxen…. whence teamsters unleash
whip-sawed, and zigzagged nor’easter nee
and smite thy corporeal essence The Idler Wheel
Is Wiser than the Driver of arch ca me
d’s Screw and Whipping Cords Will Serve You
More than Ropes Will Ever Do – re: lee
bind the optimism of incipient internal
involuntary crushing any budding hope until…key
Purr of salvation in the guise of Paul Dice
unexpectedly intervened by a fluke of high lee
totally tubularly random events impossible
to linkedin, where plenti of helping hands – jais
ne sais quois – conjoined at just the optimal moments
to nudge – each twerk, though itsy
bitsy spidery like thread (the main impetus
squarely rests on the above named Millville – he
ving over the top tenacious effort exerted
on behalf of Good Samaritan with gumption, glee
suffusing with the milk of human kindness
doggedly sought to extricate self and spouse free
of charge, and whose markedly muscling actions
earn him more than words can spell a dee
mon strew bull epitomy of virtue relieving
the gordian knotted pang – this atheist Che
fully thanks, him (anoint said fellow Paul Dice)
as the Grand Poobah to be
more valuable than fine-spun gold –
and thus this spur of the moment tribute – Ayee!

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Matthew Scott Harris

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çhåråc†e® ske†çh øƒ m円hew sçø†† hå®®is! ™Born in Cincinnati that buckeye state January 13th 1959 – 57+ years to date A tangle of arms & legs testing lungs, which sounded great He kind of resembled a misshapen octopus with oval pate Glowering inxs of deep purple from blue mood being irate Thrust out the womb of Harriet Harris whom Boyce did date After courting this youngest Kuritsky kin whose ill-fate Whisked by grim reaper, which demise she did hate For her being imbued with vim and vinegar til illness ate Away her je nais sais quois personable maternal trait Evident during my boyhood reflected by her son of late As he too inches closer to his mortality and Hades gate Aware that each day ought to be cherished as the rate Of time courses down zip line where grim reaper does wait Attired in brand name hoodie swinging scythe across oblate Spheroid i.e. terrestrial firmament – though years some great Yet to be lived – trying to re cap cha childhood bliss b4 freight Train on a collision course toward self-destruction ala tete a tete With Anorexia Nervosa as thy then coveted deadly mate A brutal hellish spiral down in2 abysmal depths of despair did create Indelible psychological affects undermined existence I now equate writ horrendous emotional, physical n social gouge within pate Pledged troth ('bout 2+ decades ago), which spouse oft times berate For lack of expressed concern and attests schizoid psychic slate irrevocably seared and stunted natural development where I rate prepubescent, early adulthood mental illness did grate Against once boisterously playful innocent boy crushed potentate Only male heir from me deceased mother who tried to extirpate Mailer daemons who forged suicide pact and via voice did dictate Albeit without success, yet decry forsaken innate Experiences with female relationships off viz poisoned bait!
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