Vagaries Of An Unknown Methacton High School...

Nineteen Seventy-Seven Alumni

Some conspiratorial and malevolent force
    must be fast at work
     cranking chronology dial
an extraterrestrial force

     donning, housing, loosing,
     plying, and trumpeting greater guile
then this schmart ass threadbare
     stock king chap named Lisle.

Damn frightful how years
     pinwheel into decades
I hate to accept reality
     a half century plus ix orbitz
     leaving waked webbing stirring frayed
marked age of mortal

     named Matthew Scott Harris jade
did, and upon feasting
     on burnt offerings in full laid
abdominal bloating,
     engorging, and overly ingesting
     hemlock poison eternal peace paid.

“Where fore art those innocent and precious days of youth”?

That rhetorical question
     continues to resonate
     and reverberate within
(cobweb filled) catacombs of my mind
     with increasing frequency thin
lee veiled as ear a coy, I feel aghast
     how great intervals

where in tarred 'n feathered nation
(feel free and welcome to standing ovation -
insert and substitute
     favorite expletive f**king station

without concern to conserve nor ration)
how those carefree, lackadaisical,
     and leisurely days of youth
     disappear in permanent killer vacation.

I daresay any satisfactory answer
     can be offered dazed ape
disbelieving n'er six times decade
     dirty deeds donned with cheap crape
adorning dis dude might, akin to someone

     becoming inebriated
     as modus operandi to escape
within darkened deathly
     divine noose, hence hung
     around naked necked nape.

Upon exiting broad daylight,
     lifelessness ceased brown
     blinking dulled glassy eyed,
relingishing valiantly fight (yet futilely)
     against sobriety nothingness lied
limp lifeless body dangled
     thieving pickpockets plied

deceased individual
     willingly relented sighed
no more joyfully accepted,
     comforted, and emancipated
     at last freedom out tortured existence
     bleak house back door all wised.

No great expectations (chucked by Dickens),
     but self ambivalence yawned
part and parcel
     formerly reticent and withdrawn
mere wisp and writer of words,
     he did seem once a pawn

to excel in various
     sundry obsessive lawn
during compulsive behaviors,
     which most serious drawn

caper cut upon prepubescent,
     his body deadly romance
     with Anorexia Nervosa
     almost succeeded at suicide
     with bravado and brawn.