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Poem

wing my loss) if grim reaper 
     came for das scribe as skew
ward poem attempted to infer, now 
circling back to your queue
ped ditty linkedin with aforementioned 
     poppycock poo poo
merely a hypothetical premise aye drew
     if my unexpected demise took place
 
     husbanding half a motley crue
(ideally such unexpected tragedy
     ideally tubby quick and painless) 
     without war ning, via internal bombardier 
     in tandem with luft waffe.
Sorry for rather somber tone - 
     but this psychological state
      of yo dough less bro

     affected by his reading, 
     autobiography coup (now, no idea titled tract) 
d’état of Abraham Lincoln - 
     the author drew
my rapt attention (american history 
     strong interest) – whereby
     past, present n near fee var few
chore wrenched with both 

     prized progeny persevering 
     (as they should) a path to hew
of their own making, 
     which steps toward emancipation
     (worthy proclamation) for gentile or Jew,
these kindred (chromosomal byproducts        
     from countless chanced 
     genetic dice throws)
 
     perhaps n uncle or aunt a bit loo
knee, perchance dna housed new
bile queen of the nile, 
     where (August) Caesar 
     didst hotly pursue
anyway....yes, lives of 
     deux darling daughters
     un wii ting lee triggered flashback,

     when self worth equaled zero  
     tricked, replayed, and generated 
     mine horror silent film 
     to rewind at nadir total fall out,
     when anorexia nervosa did stew

underscore ring (four decades plus…) true
     value of this moment colliding
     with elapsing squandered 
     youth in rear view
mirror, unseen only 
     by ma doppelganger, 
     I now close with whew!

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