Aye Am The Questioning Sort

The more I learn, the more
I realize how little I know…
which insightful, gutsy,
entrancing, catchy apothegm

attributed to Socrates by way of Plato
subsequently self ranking myself
amidst Phylum Chordata with the Dodo bird
Class Aves (namely

said extinct flightless winged creature
with a mass of 29 – 51 pounds Oh!)
once endemic to the island of Mauritius,
east of Madagascar in the Indian Ocean,

none would be espied,
no matter how thorough
going across aquatic spreadsheet,
one might row
eventually coordinating
dropping vertical column in toto
arriving back to original
mentally ponderous premise

gamboling feint enroute to see
Old Man Wizard Of Oz
meets Crow Medicine Show
pitching thy quasi recursive query – bro

ching concurrence with another maxim to boot
“ignorance iz bliss”, which lack o’learn’n
doss appeal to this old coot,
yet such pithy accordance came
to this smart ass to late,
a mister wordsmith
with a palm pilot maximum glute
clamors (at risk of life and limb) to hoot

and holler when new kernel
of knowledge gleaned finds me mute
as if raw bit of savored information akin
to unearthing a rare gem,

or rare species of newt
temporarily allaying fervent quest to root
thru hefty tomes of great literature,
and tracts that suit
many other subjects,
less to be arrogant and toot

my own horn, but more so…
to satisfy an increasingly
insatiable hunger grow
wing nsync with unquenchable

thirsty ambition less for dough
(cuz bing po’
with treasure trove of voluminous
expansive bookish notions doth shaw

surpass becoming suddenly wealthy tin pot hustlers
with un hewn fifty nine shades of gray straw
this haint no cowardly lion seeking Androcles
to extract thorn from hum my faux paws.

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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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