Over-looking subtle handy dandy blues clues...

Matthew Scott (a whip with words) before
he doth expire will soon exit stage door
left opened on the fourth day
of the fourth month two thousand and four
and entered to behold hard-core
implements to destroy elements of style
unique to Strunk and White,
and feel aghast at the deterioration
of English language regarding being vulgarized
and thus would sooner not be part
of this webbed wide world.
Though no artist, I sit here and draw
fastidiously one after another figurative blank
while old rusty cogs that internally hem and haw
signifying wheels of me noggin that noisily clank
despite being ear splitting analogous to iron-claw
oblivious skeleton crew
slurping bootlegged death's-head
brand poisonous dregs ghouls drank
kegs of bathtub gin loose the tongue,
and jump/kick started
ordinarily introverted newcomer
to be consigned as a jabberjaw
an inbred freakish as hell
looking mountebank eubank
worse case figment of imagination
where voodoo rendered courtesy
a Vodouisant or Vodouyizan
in French and Haitian Creole,
which translates to a devotee
or follower of the religion,
who cast a spell,
where a black cat sent siccing after me,
which nearly blinded yours truly,
when their sharp dagger like claws
across my face did kraw
innocently sitting here
trying to be earnest and frank
intimating the behavior of felines
but when trying to make a getaway
subsequently a worse fate than death
found little feet of mine
punctured courtesy rusty
nine inch nails giving me lockjaw,
whereupon I went into a quiet riot
hallucinating simulacrum videlicet
Danse macabre, or the "dance of death,"
a medieval allegorical concept
and artistic theme illustrates
inevitability of death for all people,
regardless of their social status,
which universal theme
featured a procession of living
and dead figures,
led by a death figure (like a skeleton),
symbolizing how death unites
everyone in a shared fate,
which concept gained prominence
after the Black Death, served
as powerful reminder of mortality
and continues to inspire art and music today.

Mortality means no one gets out of life alive
even if being a law abiding citizen banker
and cruising along the information highway
traveling like one of the Wilburys at sixty five
desperately avoiding a con artist -
donned as the grim reaper
able, eager, ready and willing
to slash me throat stem to stern
with a lent scythe
most likely because political affiliation of mine
linkedin to the hashtag
used by an informal online community
supporting Kamala Harris,
the 49th vice president
of the United States
and 2024 Democratic presidential nominee.

When pleasantly surprised, sans (well manicured your talon claws) messaging me inquisitive to dare to step up the pitch to acquaintanceship stage (with no extra charge) spurs this logophile to honor such infrequent query.
Awareness prevails to dilute gravitation to ad lib with malt tea syllable words, which imaginary ambiance hope fully elicits a hypnotic trance, whereby typed incantations can subtly affect mindset of the reader. Such "FAKE" control merely my swiftly tailored, harried style to diverge from conformity. Lamb bent with creative people, I sheepishly admit to ewe tubby procreative.

Perhaps, that conclusion already deduced. Many expunging of pained emotions (as alluded to in many rhyme without reason from...yours truly) includes major influences linkedin with family of origin and/or deux daughters well nigh in hot pursuit of their own destiny. Prior to parenthood...the capacity to experience, and express love outside my ken.

Psychological seismic activity (felt by nobody but me) rent psyche asunder. Even prior to the lamentable longing to be no more (passive suicide foursquare between late child, viz morphing into an prepubescent) fear (possibly objection, revulsion, aversion...) activated bright idea to starve myself, whence this pensive person became his own Guinea Pig to study effects of Anorexia Nervosa.

No will to bridge veritable emotional rift between myself nor parents, particularly when becoming alive wire of hyper-charged anxiety, frenzy, krazy, prickly unease overtook that profoundly introverted puny boy, who never utter a "pip" or "squeak," this despite emotions festering inside me. Rarely did this second of three progeny (and sole son of Boyce, and the late Harriet Harris - approximately baker's dozen years plus six orbitz since her demise from...Ovarian Cancer) disclose any bothersome issue with either parent, nor purge agonizing feelings to either sister, whose concern for their only brother affected them then known tummy x reverse orbits around the sun.

Rather that babble, gurgle, prattle...until the end of time (hyperbole to add heft as a modus opera raggedy Andy to sustain interest (unless ye ceased reading after the initial sentence, which high crime and misdemeanor will warrant...ah...um...yea a mandate to write me back - ha).

All kidding aside, an avowed discovery getting to thee (even if strictly limited to the milieu of My Poetic Side), would be most agreeable, yet all to convenient for said safe overture tubby thwarted aside by simply cease correspondence. Opinions get made at greased lightning speed more so then offline. The display mode constituting resignation and attendant withdrawal from the madding crowd did not serve me in good stead.

Nonverbal body language spoke volumes screaming "LEAVE ME THE F*CK ALONE!" Some of that entrenched behavior present to this day, yet an assertiveness plied with awareness to risk maximizing a positive prospect for...friendship concludes with offering a screen name of mine (no idea why I created six) aware that such invitation be declined. NO obligation (even with zero APR at least until MAY) demands choosing to reply via email, or feel guilt free if a sudden diminution sparked whatever motivated you to communicate.

Neither fear nor hesitation prompts me to bare and bellow my soul about eventual demise (the wife would prematurely ejaculate not soon enough) without hesitation. The (digital/electronic) exposure of self much more readily amenable, either posting a newly minted poem (on occasion short fiction), or answering a query with no great expectation. When pleasantly surprised, sans (well manicured your talon claws) messaging me inquisitive to dare to step up the pitch to acquaintanceship stage (with no extra charge) spurs this logophile to honor such infrequent query.

Awareness prevails to dilute gravitation to ad lib with malt tea syllable words, which imaginary ambiance hope fully elicits a hypnotic trance, whereby typed incantations can subtly affect mindset of the reader. Such "FAKE" control merely my swiftly tailored, harried style to diverge from conformity Lamb bent with creative people, I sheepishly admit to ewe tubby procreative.

Perhaps, that conclusion already deduced. Many expunging of pained emotions (as alluded to in many rhyme without reason from...yours truly) includes major influences linkedin with family of origin and/or deux daughters well nigh in hot pursuit of their own destiny. Prior to parenthood...the capacity to experience, and express love outside my ken.

Psychological seismic activity (felt by nobody but me) rent psyche asunder. Even prior to the lamentable longing to be no more (passive suicide foursquare between late child, viz morphing into an prepubescent) fear (possibly objection, revulsion, aversion...) activated bright idea to starve myself, whence this pensive person became his own Guinea Pig to study effects of Anorexia Nervosa.

No will to bridge veritable emotional rift between myself nor parents, particularly when becoming alive wire of hyper-charged anxiety, frenzy, krazy, prickly unease overtook that profoundly introverted puny boy, who never utter a "pip" or "squeak," this despite emotions festering inside me. Rarely did this second of three progeny (and sole son of Boyce, and the late Harriet Harris - approximately baker's dozen years plus six orbitz since her demise from...Ovarian Cancer) disclose any bothersome issue with either parent, nor purge agonizing feelings to either sister, whose concern for their only brother affected them then known tummy x reverse orbits around the sun.

Rather that babble, gurgle, prattle...until the end of time (hyperbole to add heft as a modus opera raggedy Andy to sustain interest (unless ye ceased reading after the initial sentence, which high crime and misdemeanor will warrant...ah...um...yea a mandate to write me back - ha).

All kidding aside, an avowed discovery getting to thee (even if strictly limited to the milieu of My Poetic Side), would be most agreeable, yet all to convenient for said safe overture tubby thwarted aside by simply cease correspondence. Opinions get made at greased lightning speed more so then offline. The display mode constituting resignation and attendant withdrawal from the madding crowd did not serve me in good stead.

Nonverbal body language spoke volumes screaming "LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!" Some of that entrenched behavior present to this day, yet an assertiveness plied with awareness to risk maximizing a positive prospect for...friendship concludes with offering a screen name of mine (no idea why I created six) aware that such invitation be declined. NO obligation (even with zero APR at least until MAY) demands choosing to reply via email, facebook messenger, or other modalities and please feel guilt free if a sudden diminution sparked whatever motivated you to communicate.
Linkedin with non-verbal communication
vis-à-vis exhibited
courtesy body language,
which I readily admit
such obliviousness
characterized yours truly
as he experienced
the throes of adolescence,
and only in retrospect
(cause hindsight always 20/20)
did this contemplative,
furtive, and intuitive baby boomer
violently shook his long bedraggled
gray haired head
and full ragged beard
despite being severely hunchbacked
in dismay identifying potential
foregone opportunities
that eventually didst annoyingly
buzz-feeding, and jump/kick starting
the fragments of higher consciousness
as one maturing emotionally
to become an ancient
wizened older Caucasian male.