I relished being hungry for leftover Thanksgiving pop slop gloppy grub
I relished being hungry for leftover Thanksgiving pop slop gloppy grub
(a poetic partial fiction
blended, diced, fricaseed,
marinated, mixed, pureed, sautéed,
stewed... with fact)
Hmm... on second thought
lemme join anorexic club
until rib cage protrudes taut and visible
doubling as drum to drub
synchronized within heart of darkness,
especially when electrocardiogram exhibits
absolute zero vital sign,
cardiac arrest translates
as cessation to lub dub,
hence yours truly
declared dead as doornail,
coroner report deems arrhythmia
directly linkedin
to deliberate Machiavellian flub
courtesy the missus attempt to poison me
actually aborted cuz nanobots
loosed upon body gripped with rigor mortis,
a minor inconvenient truth
with earthling in the balance
cuz odorless and tasteless deadly toxins
rendered me convalescing
from bout with death, an oxymoronic
former slenderman gourmand.
Temporarily deceased
until said microscopic robots
avidly analogous to frenzied
figuratively hogtied pigs
buzzfeeding at a trough
creating porcine hubbub
invisible nanoids (0.1-10 micrometres)
accomplished programmed task,
whereby fatal microbes they did scrub
away leaving me fit as a fiddle.
No matter she thoroughly, painstakingly
and lovingly didst strew
haphazardly she threw
leftovers together,
this blustery march like
November twenty fourth figuratively view
wing the remaining thirty plus days
of two thousand twenty three
thoroughly cooked in microwave until...
poor excuse for my meal appeared
with consistency of shoe leather.
Think the missus not afraid
of Virginia Woolf keen to experiment
treating me like the Gingerbread Hag would:
questionable resultant glop pantomimed
for my guessing pleasure,
never figure out in bajillion years
as amateurish Marcel Marceau charade
performance courtesy the spouse,
an entrée she gave - yours truly
immediately sought to evade
me subsequently evincing
horrific puckered mealy mouth
as though I swallowed hand grenade
figurative exploding oral cavity
feeble futile gesticulation inveighed.
Thus, methinks himself wise
to don cooking apron
please do not ask why
trumpeting self as master chef boyardee
so move over wife and allow husband to try
his hand (using skill - let) me prepare Thai
and/or other Asian cuisine dish,
cuz when free to potschke
(To fuss or "mess around"
inefficiently and inexpertly), I haint shy
to blend (indiscriminately) ingredients
ofttimes yours truly barley able to ply
boiling water since significant other
does not give opportunity
to this garden variety
and generic, gimlet eyed
gourmandizing guilt free
Earth friendly gumption
generic goaded guy.
Every so often yours truly
gets so hungry, he could eat a horse
(yours truly jest kidding hoof course)
truth be told, I only eat one meal per day
all day from sunup to sundown, me a force
tubby reckoned with,
who if he gives way to vice
event chew wooly experiences remorse.
Hum glad to share mine reasonably rhyming hook
line and sink cup hated
twenty six letters linkedin amidst
various combinations, formations, permutations,...
allows, enables, and provides a look
into the mindscape of Matthew Scott Harris
doth show himself with steely dangling
nonsense with sense and sensibility he forsook.
Copyright ©
Matthew Harris
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