Chicanery Grabbed Lustfully Repeatedly Yup
Chicanery grabbed lustfully repeatedly - yup!
While merrily bobbing along
the boulevard of broken dreams,
which in truth measured
no more than a furlong
think envisioning myself top banana
analogous to bull headed Donkey Kong,
I felt on top of my game,
which constituted ping pong
but severely lacking
tragedy, suspense, romance, et cetera
subsequently fat/slim chance
to warrant ghost writer,
nevertheless unlikely to realize production
courtesy the 2023 SAG-AFTRA strike
despite existential nihilism
grist for the paperback writer mill
recounting my life and hard times
devoid of hero or heroine unsung.
Yours truly a figurative magnet,
where racketeers come out of wood work
swooping birds of prey
pouncing like the dickens
I don't know what hit me
before being bloodied
and knocked senseless
seeing stars though hour broad daylight.
(in more ways than one).
That execrable, despicable cretin...
unnamed miscreant unknown
(though only his pseudonym
iterated in many another previous poem),
no doubt laughed all the way to the bank
courtesy mine stolen funds drank
libation, while his loosed tongue
probably retold plucking cold cash
(as I play devil's advocate)
out the hands some poor sucker,
who genuinely believed fabrication
that Citizen Bank tellers
blatantly colluded against victim,
deluded him courtesy
purring voice of perpetrator
the former talk of the town,
an imbecile, whereat the latter
a practiced slyboots
pulling the wool over rapt prey
complicit in his own financial downfall
now seeking altruistic,
holistic and unrealistic benefactor(s),
I attest blatantly
showed myself laughing stock
to be ernest and frank
and brought down quite a few notches
regarding respectability bemoaning
relinquishing funds viz obvious prank.
The webbed wide world
could not give a rats ****
regarding major bone head fiasco
that found father fêted
in tragedy of his making a farce
even a kindergartner could easily parse
as rotten to the core
only has himself to thank,
where once abundant bucks now sparse
The severe punishing hell
found yours truly listing
with suicidal ideation
inner voices beckoned
though none could hear
deafening rebel yell
raging against the machinations
of cut throat venal
conniving smart aleck
requisitioning easy moolah
total eclipsed son,
whose papa scores of years ago
circa nineteen seventy six or thereabouts
(after he got laid off
from General Electric)
also experienced fiends,
who took Boyce Harris to the cleaners
and left him hanging out to dry.
Copyright ©
Matthew Harris
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