Cane Nines Har Able To Out Best Ma

by matthew scott harris
(schwenksville, penna)

my doggerel muttering kant

bass sic cully, plucking strings iz a ja
Cane Nines Har Able
To Out Best playing cello yo yo Ma
so stated by this fretful pa

Ode per pooch pounding ruff
sounding sub woofer.
Whew - all done taking a leak
behind bushes of favorite vetch
tub bull patch so now,

arf goes me dog gone
bark a roll and ruff sketch
shod ye be least bit interested in this retch
in this faux paused muttering mongrel,

who (despite viscous rumors to the contrary)
nada a leech nor letch
boot actually quite a "good" fetch
and a fine prairie home companion –

even if yar tail got docked
with out anesthesia by a pretty lass see
still...Yukon feel melancholy
nonetheless juiced buffer end me
like ya know throw
a boner en re:coe Fermi can catch.

Me - iz one hippie dawg,
who sports hair reed style like a veil
longish, and minimally groomed,
asper an antagonistic,
sans brothers Grimm tale

with no intent to rant nor rail
searching fur gallivanting
female nursery rhyme minus a quail
boot...with jack and his pail,

which known storybook
quite old as a rusty nine-inch nail
stating dogmatic, humanistic and lyric words
once adored by this older Socratic male

offers himself as a bona fide
potential Petsmart call soul mate hale
and hearty without any major Def Jam organ fail
yore, beardless yet scruffy,

I wear spectacles rather bifocals bare
lee stay put on me snout
to see the world more crystal clear
especially when chaste
to impress a bitch in heat -

like ye mud dear
whom height welcome
letting me nibble on one or t'other ear
of yours, now trotting along on my yipping badinage
whim per with poetic trademark flair,

which doggerel seems unstoppable probably
from a malfunction milk bone shaped cerebral gear
aye attest trademark viz
somewhat long wavy, course brown hair

might also involve well tangled follicular roots
affirming me to hear snapping jeer
ring boxer bullies, which floppy mop top in tandem
to firm undersized gluteus maximus or hmm rear
oft times incites other mongrels to stare

yet, the ability to camouflage
Ike coon sitter a bonus, akin to a camel lion
or if you prefer chameleon,
this trait stems when Aztec,
my faux pas amidst Mayan

Runic ruins, where traipsing
for long stretches of time
ah stopped to chat with Ryan
a local junkyard hound, which
at human years over 100 keeps on tryin

to survive within
dog eat horse meat world,
where canines sprang from wolverine zoo
and as a complete stranger introduced muss elf
as "man's best friend" to you

from a place in mind known as xandu
which could afford room enough for two
if ye would only stand or sit in this queue
similar to waiting in a cloistered pew

But better grab a place
before places number few
from those who utter yabba dabba do.
I blithely admit not to be a stud
just a recent emigre hoisted himself out of the mud
from that antediluvian flood

like some garden variety muggle
with a male member dud
but rather a regular bovine chewing his cud
and just wanna be a companionable bud.
no intent to be neither indecent nor lewd,

which rapid-fire reply
helps my anxiety-riddled mood
unsure what level of interest exists
toward this ordinary dude
for reasons and rhymes,
i scratch my flea gnawed head and brood.
most people find my poetic attempts unclear

and get quite frazzled - with nostrils that flair
like some fire breathing dragon
filled with rage and glare
all on account of human desire for friendship,

and some woman for me to care
which closeness worth
far more than gems, jewels and trinkets
so...if a safe risk taking mood,
i would be interested for ye to share.

literary enjoyment and
entertainment primary reason i write
from a little known wayfarer
that trawls the virtual seas this night

whereby my being pitched to and fro
which forces necessity
to hold on with all me might.
care not for this playful male
ye seem quite desperate a guy to nail,

I could benefit from someone
to play the role of inxs bare naked lady
and super tramp
(ah bet she iz jist a cheap trick),
this jack rustle of no trades
could enjoy a gal to hold his pale.
oh...fair and lovely princess

in this surreal and virtual space
might thee put down the drawbridge
with mush ado of a quick pace
and no need to feign shock
nor surround thyself
with defenses to brace
against some maliciousness on my part -

just a wandering troubadour able, eager, ready
willing to show his smart pedigreed fact sheet,
and maybe even other parts of his anatomy
with dignity and amazing grace.

Sangfroid persona makes joie de vivre
the perfect human to adopt, and more fun than a wii
ill that chased a monkey named zee
row, who aims tubby yar beau.

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