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Poem
Who is/was Jamie Ashworth?

Written roundabout October 31st 2017,
yet nary a handy dandy blue's clue
Jimmy Neutron Spongebob SquarePants
exists about real or imagined 
gal in question, and presumed results 
regarding the gal in question
acquiring titular role of poetic subject 
most likely more than a few 
women can lay claim
to being said person re: 
goddess of me what dream in question,

but once curiosity took hold 
far between once idea
took hold in me noggin 
notion became frozen solid 
within sixty shades of gray matter
analogous to being 
lodged itself an Igloo
for no less than an eternity
linkedin with cryogenic freezing, 
which notion prevalent 

among the super rich
spending millions of dollars 
to procure heated smart toilet, 
and additionally, essentially, and ideally 
equipping bathroom with golden plated loo
whereby guests needing to relieve themselves
grunt out insync with effe fart 
to expel bowel movement 
the primal scream aah and ooh
synonymous to giving birth.

Untold females most likely 
share same name sake as poem title;
I knew not what to expect
after googling the following namesake
Matthew Scott Harris did a wake
kin me from temporary stupor, 
gasping for air as if affixed with a trach
and on a whim thy fingers 
flew to keyboard 
butta...please dune hot 

coon sitter me a rake
or a hoe shoveling 
unprintable fu*king expleteives, 
which would moost deafen net lee
and rightfully tell me 
“go jump in a lake”
(an imponderable superior whim)
but tis not for anything to gain 
this extemporaneous poem aye make
but more so, this 

ordinary garden variety bumpkin 
(or pumpkin I transform into 
upon eve of Halloween 
politically correct)
nay, tis no exterior, interior, 
nor ulterior motive this drake
doth quacking, while wading 
in the wide webbed whirled
and hoop fully ja refrain 
thinking me tubby some flake

yes, a touch of flattery insulated 
within thy body electric, 
which caw cajun skin color 
presents this being opaque
and the purest motive merely 
to convey how flattered
this mortal knowing 
an anonymous gal 
enjoys the material  
which despite what Trump 

or his henchmen/women 
might have said 
“aint what preceded deep fake”
boot real honest to dogness sentiment 
that virtually touches me 
to the quick and a whim to make
a rhyming poem found impetus 
set to express and converse
without any suspicion, paranoia, 
or mild headache.
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