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I Cannot Be Any Moar Pacific!

A welcome reprieve
     against blistering hazy,
     hot and humid
     meteorological suffocating air

found me voluntarily
     hermetically sealing myself
     within a climate controlled
     one bedroom apartment

     this Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
     (actually originally Lake
     Woebegone) transplant
     getting acclimated to the

     summer weather in Zaire,
this country determined, sans
     while "blindfolded," directed,
     and guided while seated

     in my state of the art bedchair,
hence such chance decision,
     where yours truly,
     would spend the following year

gunslinging, fellow
     shipping, and engaging
     with bountiful mutineers
     while piloting corsair

outlandishly ludicrous, incredibly
     flimsy, and carelessly
     held together by wirehair
with an equally

     ratty motley crue
     forcing yours truly
     to "FAKE" being debonair,
this (Baritone Horn playing)

     privateer did veer
really did  mark hood
     lee did quickly
     twain tubby chief engineer

accomplishing (as
     resident poetic web stir)
     re: alias Muddy
     Waters ("Roger") unclear

breathing sigh of relief,
      I did not go over with
     my trademark mind boggling flair
to sow confusion

     within the mindscape
     of one or more readers
     will cause him/
     her to go thermonuclear

ready to choke, gas, or throttle me
     as he/she doth glare
intimidating such prediction analogously
     like Moby Dick reacting violently
     when Cap'n Ahab thrust a spear!

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