I Cannot Be Any Moar Pacific
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!
Copyright © Matthew Harris | Year Posted 2018
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