Yukon Call Me Panic

Vane glorious and absolutistic,
though I defiantly,
cavalierly, and blithely attest
Yukon bet your (laugh-in) sweet bippy
mine acidic breast

houses anarchic, anti-poetic ballistic,
barbaric, and bubonic
cannibalistic demons within thy
safely guarded Pandora chest
atomic cesium clock

timed to trigger avast
burst of anxiety, frenzy, and
(What me worry
Alfred E. Neuman) blast
ting mental quietude at most
inappropriate, inconvenient,

inopportune, out classed
adrenaline rush, nausea,
palpitating heart, vertigo
besieging, corrupting,
endeavoring fractured arrant

cleft daemonic gripping
hellishly psychic chant
rendering unto sieze hoar,
a choking vise grip extant
yule hiss sieze indomitable

banshee fully controlling grant
diabolic, dogmatic, and dynamic,
anguished corporeal ache
easily, egregiously, and emblematically,
exemplified historically

graphic fatalistic, and ecstatic coup,
(koo), when I caused furious frantic flight,
and/or fight betake
king angst causing just desserts
for Marie Antoinette,

who got her humble pie cake,
thence dispensing with formalities,
where a joshing drake
(named Gill O. Teen)

also known (solely known
to mine selfish source error ways)
alias i.e. as; the Lewis (loose)
lunatic, heady harvester,
and decapitation Deacon trumpeting,

trouncing, and triumphing tranquility
for fifty three Tuesdays,
thence sea king punishing psychotic
pre pound payment
basking in glory (re: gory us)

amidship crashing quays
music to mine ears hearing plaintive neighs
high pitched straining
vocal chord hamstrung keys
regaling oceanographic
lambent hagiographic essays
and keeping at bathos bays.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Matthew Scott Harris

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
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!
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of
avatar
wpDiscuz

I Know Me

I Know Me short poem

It was a freak accident of epithelium under anaesthesia. You place a window on to a hollow brain. The money makes the monkey out of you. A green light blocks the fish, your memory, to swim in black thoughts. The

The Lost Me

The Lost Me short poem

I was so much into you That I lost my friends, My family and most importantly Myself. My dear you, You hurt me so much That I lost you, And I lost myself too. I was depressed, tensed here You

The Orchestra And Me

The Orchestra And Me prose poem

I had a dream last night. It was very concise but interesting. Rather revelatory, but not prophetic in the usual way. There was a class with a facilitator encouraging input based on a lesson plan provided to the class. I,

Chase Me

Chase Me short poem

Voltage charges power lines’ high wires All honest men die liers Her electric current runs tight by pliers My fires burn, they breathe, ash, and smoke Held so tightly I couldn’t help it my hand broke Shattered into a million

Love Me Now

Love Me Now short poem

Hold me now, as I’m a child Keep me close. Be tender, mild Love me now. Now. And for forever Walk with me now, and as I grow Guide me through life’s ebb and flow Love me now. Now. And