My Contingency Measure In Case Of…armageddon

My Contingency Measure in case of…Armageddon

Aisle putt ta ma head but tween these skinny legs
and kiss thine braying ass good-bye
asper ma person, thine gluteus maximus
a boot the size of a hand held palm pilot cell phone,
hence nada worth ache cry
though ah share a preference not hood die
yet if push (shin the atomic bombardier button) combs tush hove Eli
zha would be nowhere in sight,
thence salvation might be sought from a common
(sad dulled) horse fly
to bring deliverance (due ling ban joe plucked solo) to this guy
who reckons, there will no time to converse
‘cept as mentioned earlier me high
knee will be the sole recipient I

will spout hot air
and confuse the burst of flatulence from ma bare
swaying bell bottom as an echo – loud and clear
that used to be mode of en dear
mint ‘tween muss elf and spouse – wherever she may be ‘ere
a presumption, she met her demise amidst radiation with fear
and loathing uncertain who to vent her angry glare
understandable to pay price for the folly of heir
don trump – perchance he too got vaporized as faux icier
flakes flittering among the global debacle – where jeer

ring grim reaper will be feted as like
at a fancyfeast with choicest bit
of human remains of the doomsday,
and immune to perilous nuclear fit
loosed upon the terra firmae,
where most every metropolitan center ground zero
but with heavy-duty weapons of mass destruction,
one need not make a direct hit
cuz the deadly fallout will make the entire globe
tuff Hester and become liquefied bubbling as one large snake pit
thus no more poetry competitions – DAMN –
yet writing aye will not quit
but scratch out whatever thoughts seem worthwhile
hoe ping will discover bunched inside a iron made in USA trivet
and held tightly sealed via many makeshift rivet.

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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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