Overrun by stuffed subdued teddy bears
Overrun by stuffed subdued teddy bears...
of diverse and sundry sizes engaged
in woebegone wild rumpus
as a last hoorah
for diversity, equity and inclusion,
whose somber bowed heads
(hide their snickers
just a kiss away)
their backsides mimicked
tufted heavenly clouds
interspersed amidst with imaginary fallen angels
softly chanting profane funereal requiem,
where a former
warren of dust bunnies galore
met their ill fate getting vacuumed
hashtagged as sinners
in the hands of an angry dog.
Twas (NOT the night before Christmas),
nevertheless bright idea lit up the eyes
of zee missus Clause
(she got known far and wide
as an impractical joker)
poised to strike
at the least opportune moment
while donning das skies
of a playboy centerfold
within the erogenous penalty zone
took a page from Ursa (la) Major.
Hens forth aye dedicate and air
this poem for self aggrandisement,
thus trumpet and blare
to acknowledge this mister
and asking thee
to please support me courtesy
mailing a blank check
to Matthew Scott Harris,
I kid thee not dear reader
with ewe nanny muss cowabunga
names of barnstorming farm animals
buck cause I sheep push lee duck clear
to promote worthwhile secular humanist
(Billy me), one beatle browed, foo fighting
nirvana seeking enigmatic, kinetic,
romantic, and zoetic yahoo who dons guise
pulling wool over your eyes.
Before birth of our progeny
yours truly (me) addressed said spouse
"my little buttock blaster" endearment -
for obvious reasons,
and before she begat two 'ere
rip press able deux lovely daughters,
anyway thee wife I fear
to publicize contracted a benign
strain sans incurable glare
ring housecleaning malady,
(thus far no unpronounceable hair
raising name affixed
to non contagious plight, nonetheless
accursed obsessive/compulsive malady,
whereby to keep from appearing
on Hoarding: Buried Alive at bay,
she applies elbow grease
scrubbing stubborn stains
from clothes, dishes,
getting down on all fours
with the help of scrub daddy
and consolidates tchotchkes
to make room,
when gamut of hibernating
Ursine horde (nee Mötley Crüe)
come breathing alive with the sound of music
Nsync chron eyes with beastie boys,
Bay City Rollers
culture clubbing babes
upon first spring day
engrossed in this, that,
or some other sweeping floor foray.
Endless task to “keep house,”
especially cuz rural housing development inspector(s)
(scheduled of March twenty eighth)
intend to grade our apartment against any violation
checking every square inch for tell tale signs
of abhorrent sight for sore eyes
such as manifestations of sizable tufts of dust
analogous to Velveteen Rabbit
shedding gray winter coat
when warmer temperatures arrive,
where humongous fur clumps would lay
comprising sudden empty raft
of shelf space minus a may
zing globules, oh...lemme get on track,
whence frenzied fever
"cleaning bug" nee
major virus afflicting wife,
would necessitate impossible task
strapping, pinteresting, and kickstarting
former feisty Norwegian farm gal
a force to reckon with
even in a straight jacket
would hardly deter native talent
to create chaos in her wake
inviting ecosystems of critters
who ordinarily she doth thrive within slovenly
unkempt environment analogous to pigsty
would be to her analogous child's game to play
boot tiring and cruel task to pick up after her
Yukon say 24/7 daily challenge for yours truly
the husband to experience despair
lest we receive eviction warning,
impossible mission to locate
an affordable accommodating
renting a U-Haul to move out,
which unpredictable eventuality
defies ample time frame
to shape up or ship out
thine remaining lifetime
wedded to wife oy vey
would frank lee zap
every last efficient
excellent employee “oompa loompa”
specifically to the small,
orange-skinned people
who work in
Willy Wonka's chocolate factory
in Roald Dahl's Charlie
and the Chocolate Factory.
Ultimate challenge constitutes
weathering blistering retorts
for remaining years
of married life with same spouse
in response to constructive criticism
like a nattering nabob of nativity
buzzfeeding, lamenting and testifying
to the omnipotent power at large
who hopefully can affect and infect
the wife with “house beautiful” syndrome.
Copyright ©
Matthew Harris
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