Tick...Tock...Tick...Tock...

(Aye apologize for straying way
outside thee usual canon -
a poetic souffle,
boot desperation
finds me cent less,
Thus i pray
for divine intercession, this may

day call sent out, far
chump change moo nay
(near zero dollars
in checking account)
this near crack 'o dawn
to rescue me - okay?
----------------------------------
aye yie yie,
aye ham awake
at two o'cock
in the morning

ye yie yie,
aye ham awake
at three o'cock
in the morning

ye yie yie,
aye ham awake
at four o'cock
in the morning

keenly aware of major
appliances conversing ad-hoc
no doubt conspiring to sock
this dirt poor dada

directly in ma keister,
where i take flight
amidst a flock
of seagulls honking

at my unintentional
"FAKE" chutzpah to block
their instinctual migratory path
from swift tailored kick

in the buttock
as iterated above
from energy guzzling
electricity trapping shock

king lee vengeful
Peco powered accouterments,
whence this air
born papa chock

full of anxiety, asper
no where to
turn and jock
key for getting,

perhaps stealing myself
as a stowaway aboard
an unattended ship at dock
or as a las resort resort

to a life of crime
with deliberate intent,
where "the fuzz"
take me to lock

up, no way most certainly
not a place
to sing sing about,
and most likely end up

a scape goat kid
ding lee bullied a knock
on me noggin will
find me seeing mock

believe stars, which warrants
emergency medical
treatment by "Spock"
of star trek fame, whose

Vulcan antidotes wok
like a charm and find me
well on the Scottish peck
road less traveled,

which sends me Bach
to the future,
where i encounter
my pluperfect self

(barely recognizable
richly adorned other self),
with many a golden lock
compared to mine limp hair
resembling plastered schlock.