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Deliberate pain staking attentiveness to perfection

(alternately titled: impossible mission goes awry probably mortal enemy cast spell binding jinx) Both mental versus physical tasks necessitate laser sharp attentiveness triggered within blinks similarly on par when people toast momentary instance utter silence before more'n one wine glass simultaneously clinks cheering hurray, especially if delicate circumstance incorporates telecommunications downlinks critical vital communique transmitted courtesy think outlier (christened Saint Matthew Scott Harris) with acute instincts held hostage between warp, and woof fifth of dimension far away beyond where outer limits exhibits kinks nsync with twilight zone dwell alienated ratfinks resembling authentic animated Doctor Seuss characters where one after another third eye blind winks. Lame excuse told cosmic speck (me) sending yours truly on wild goose chase an underhanded way to rub inept feeble poetaster punster out webbed wide world existence purportedly great eats boasted deep inside black hole sun pub must make posthaste to nearest galactic grubhub mission control haint made no flub boot deliberately thought ineffectual doling out futile drub cuz mister flibbertigibbet (me) ostracized from highly selective club. The aforementioned synopsis and ultimate banishment cheered with big bang decreed courtesy kangaroo court constituting beastie boy gang think star wars movie, where farcical charges trumped offering accused two choices, either to hang suspended (think piñata) and beat to (fictional) pulp torturers obviously ignoring pang of utter emasculation, but rather sang a song of sixpence* while downing flasks of vintage tang crafty entrepreneur William A. Mitchell in 1957 phallic drinking vessels resembling Chewbacca's oversize wang. --------------------------------------------------- *Lyrics Sing a Song of Sixpence BY MOTHER GOOSE Sing a song of sixpence, A pocket full of rye, Four and twenty blackbirds Baked in a pie. When the pie was opened The birds began to sing— Wasn't that a dainty dish To set before the king? The king was in the counting-house Counting out his money, The queen was in the parlor Eating bread and honey, The maid was in the garden Hanging out the clothes. Along came a blackbird And snipped off her nose.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020




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