Poem -

A bookish bound man obsessed for knowledge crafts long poem

A bookish bound man obsessed for knowledge crafts long poem

1.
This hunger artist cannot read
volumes of printed material fast enough
to satiate an immense appetite
and unquenchable thirst
to acquire learning from
the millenniums gushing fount of
cumulative chance revelations,
(or deliberate intent to validate
a premise vis a vis via
private investigative research),
thus unwittingly setting alight
an intense inquisitiveness sans
this curious George primate
experiencing the equivalent
of mental non fallacious
figurative enthusiasm analogous to:
patriotism, phototropism, priapism...),
whose every waking hour,
(when not tending toward
the basic needs for survival
as a seeming foreigner -
journey ying in this helter skelter,
madcap, slaphappy, whirled wide web)
expended to enrich the yawping
immeasurable volume mine fist size
housed cerebellum buzzfeeds
shrouded within skull and cross bones,
a vast scope of innumerable chunks
of fascinating, fortifying, and fulfilling
various subject matters,
that when pursued
to an approximate logical conclusion
yields abundant esoteric information.

These sundry shiny, salutary
nuggets of wisdom send a surge
within this once
a pawn a time white knight
(holed up in his rook re:)
of orgasmic sensations
coursing throughout each
neuron and axon of this gourmand
famished for (imagine if you will)
overflowing platters full of
juicy, fruity, and bounty tea full volumes
of incredible edible raw bits
2.
(toothsome incredible mental edibles
satiating faux lower
and upper indentured craving
most satisfactorily) with byte size tidbits
of savory, tasty, ultimately vaunted
mouthwatering hors d'oeuvres teasing me
to such fancy feast ohm my dog
amp pulley serving one godaddy
gloriously heightening inexplicable
joie de vivre keen longing making
tongue lick lips in anticipation
to partake from SmörgÄsbord
of expansive culinary cuisines.

Though nada lick of evidence concluded
that hair color plays a role,
(especially plait tin ham),
I chose an arbitrary hue
(without arbitration, deliberation,
or genuflection) hair raising experiment
to be illegally blonde - courtesy
of hydrogen peroxide
as a last ditch effort to increase
the rate my noggin can absorb
page after page of sought after
printed information, less
to impress anybody, but more so
to satisfy an incessantly voracious
yen to understand, which
(as a minor side effect) possibly
increases the weight of thine
sixty plus shades of gray cerebral matter.

Thee correlation asper whether
a lighter tinted non natural tone
of genetically decreed follicles
(sprouting within Ziegfeld Follies
like tender brownian growth -
thread wide spindles in the case of myself),
I certainly experienced, invited,
and measured quantifiable uptick
in incidents involving being queried
as a smart schnorrer in a city
where the streets have no names)
adorning straggly strands
striving superiorly regaling
this Tess T uber ville wondrous tourist
with crackling, popping, and snapping
3.
electrical charges, which (as a side note)
allowed, enabled and provided
a pronounced ability, whereby
contents of pages got vacuumed
within a blink of an eye to imbibe
(without any adverse reaction
of heady inebriation not jeopardizing
body, mind or spirit of Brexit ting
away courtesy Yankee doo dill ling
confounding basic auburn zillions
of tough proteins called keratin.

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