Rats! Mine poetic submissions once again deemed floccinaucinihilipilification

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Brief Bio:Hi (Matthew Scott Harris - berthed January xiii, circa mcmlix). Hi yam juiced dime a dozen penniless bitcoin (a chip off the ole blockchain) branching off the tree men dous skeined wide whirled webbing courtesy aye push (apish) predecessors humanity. Aye got pro pence city to ply (close on par with Wordsworth wandering willy shake his spear), their weight in gold, and thus as a scribe take to the most vibrant media platform these days (electronic soapbox) to express most bothersome doggone fiendish harmful jerk, lobbing nuggets packed resplendently, tightly unfashionably vested with yik yak animal clout. Tis like a stormy field day (tour wren NATO), asper communicating, expressing, gut heaving input. Tinder days of yore sparked psychological conflagration kindle ling outlook per questionable rite Trump violated with yipping brigands doing dirty deeds done dirt cheap. Though unknown to thee twittering, reading public and chattering class, this totally tubular thought provoking meister jabberwocky houses full deshabille attire invoking an automatic repulsion if aiming to affect "FAKE" couture of nouveau riche. No ambition to clothe thyself in the latest craze, fashions, gizmos, kool leaning trends always found this middle aged, monkey's peanut size uncle (a Lioness Paul lean), mwm to be an outlier. Early years of mine kempf fraught with emotional, physical and spiritual angst, when forced thru the gauntlet thrown up by one eyed punks with jagged lightning bolt designed scars. They (the madding crowds of foo fighting beastie boys) throve on being mean, and stepped up the propensity of bullying, especially since this presently grown man evinced (as a pipsqueak), an extremely cowering, frowning, identity guard.