Non Labor (Relations) Day Poem ©

Aye dream of Genie (as a Lad din)
Schwenksville, Pennsylvania -
keystone state abbreviated as Pea Yay,
this stupid non huge poem
really...a boot nuttin
butta an overrated allay
zee good for nothing, bay

sic doofus slob, bray
zing as a ("FAKE") pence heave
trumpeting (Don Key Oat Tee),
chutzpah twittering Prez, -

whom stoop “To Kill a Mockingbird”
activate hocus pocus “Go Set NRA
as a Watchman,” yepper, hip pip hooray,
whose coon sitters un mensch hen

nib bill, one important,
non binding willy nilly play
book title, sans how to acquire,
tousled windswept coiffed soufflé

rooted under sworn confidential heady
testimony (top secret only known
between POTUS, FLOTUS,
and hairstylist Tiffany Kaljic)

helped grow "The Art Of The De..." lay
sham (poo poo) headline kept under ray
dar only "How To Get Ri." Dove lousy
tonsuring service, and how easy
to get Head & Shoulders above fray
dee cats - me owing over petty files

versus joining gray
vee train via tracking
"FAKE" pussy footing
faux Trump wannabes, hence ICE hay

Immediately railroad competition
viz, against ISIS speck did
Amazon tubby a root cause
thus resorting to

"Midas Touch: Why...Ent...er
risk to get scalped, when,
(though periwig poor
hirsute substitute), I belay

burr the point far y'all
(get a Fred – Roger over) to hoist
by one's own petard oye vey,
while channeling das directv gray

gore re: haired (50 shades), and
direct descendent from Kublai
Khan, a moost deplorable display
yellowish, venomous, serpent,

which poisonous scorpion size prey
with deadly fangs straight
(tinned by orthodontists),
a perfect set pearl whites in an array

as daggers hissed ("FAKE")
snaky intergenerational viper, and
true tomb ice elf flave
heard like a pampered baby

(nick named Keebler Khan)
unthinkable alternative
(forever shunned near and faraway)
if this poetaster doth betray

his (my) devote followers, no matter
admirably, dutifully, and gracefully
fulfilling role as sommelier
replenishing wine goblets

with vintage chardonnay,
nonetheless reprimanding recalcitrants,
who opt to breakaway
slamming, shaming, and scathing

rants against brand name
Matthew Scott Harris
finds himself a castaway,
thus unsure, how to write without delay

An insipid poem to pay
(overtime) homage about Labor Day
prepping mental gears
glommed together like clay

while cruising at mock speed
faster then (Tom Hawk)
along the (Al Gore) rhythm information
super highway expressway
axe chilly (sh...dont tell a soul
lest I club burr you -
ha juiced tees zing),

yours truly intends
to play umpteen (close
to a bajillion) rounds of golf
on the Harris fairway
Lest a Tony (nay)
boar hood tiger jumps
out of the woods painfully sinking

sharp teeth into mine flesh for play
jour quickly making mince
meat then fillet
mignon before (prestidigitation
i.e.presto) magically
regurgitating my self fully intact
as repurposed slimy trumpeting popinjay.