June 12th 2017 Transition Revisited and Revised Today 4 2 2021

June 12th 2017 TRANSITION revisited and revised today 4/2/2021 While scrolling over outdated docs (i.e. namely OpenOffice documents) derrière seated upon hard backed chair, yours truly came upon following poem to share with anonymous readers, whereby slight modifications got made to original file. Until fairly recently, (no less than a few years ago - roughly about hundred fortnights ago), each day lapsed with nothing (absolute zero) outcome to show for effort to find an amenable abode wrought nothing boot futility, hostility, irritability... and increased internal disequilibrium essentially psyche feeling wretchedly awry me thought for long stretch encompassing the search perhaps, hoop fully there would arise salvation exhibiting courtesy elation entertaining, leavening, and sprinkling with gush of happiness otherwise ill luck inducing me to cry for I thought for sure, homeless shelter 'twould be our next place housing me (and missus) against the darkened sky said cursed fate would moost likely occur before this generic garden variety middle aged baby boomer would die. Methought... only after demise (mine), would soul alight upon cotton candy cloud whit will git churned out by hum mad ginned mechanism of Eli ja, an angelic ethereal invisible masterful quintessential uber lyft app par rush hen little chicken shape shifting near transparent savior donned in transparent radiant alb by kept watch to ensure sands of time didst last just long enough to cease our plaintive lowing sound, which bellow hide decry. Akin to a lonesome cooing, mourning dove (trying to hawk – prey tell) immeasurable justice sought well nigh accessing divine providence, kickstarting heavenly location and scouting out twittering worthy appropriate bird nest sanctuary, where this long haired pencil neck geek guy and his missus could breathe easy whereat hie hoed hue man pang propinquity for peace of body, mind and spirit to lie in close quarters, thus my brief zeptosecond hiatus from posting prose and poetry today, cuz we did ply along the one directional infrastructure to exhale a deep sigh upon being amazingly gracefully blessed by fickle finger of fate, after many a try analogous to seeking employment or striving to beget offspring, and I wonder why such aggravation ensues. After attaining applicable objective, one bedroom apartment (listed on Montgomery County Pennsylvania low cost housing roster), a sudden influx of subsequent kumbaya praiseworthy similar opportunities materialized, as though cruel resistant hand of destiny didst thrive ohm my dog to send courtesy Volt Tim Mort current amping thru me. Just when we thought oh no, not another rejection, I could (would) not cope methought the river of Jordan ran bone dry with hope thee manifest destiny spurred yours truly going pronto to Vatican to see Pope, when at the end of our figurative rope, (ready to gibbet, - viz hitting gallows a chance – despite noose sense, nor sensibility) ah…at long last... lo and behold, our streak of ill success, we acquired an affordable place rooted, nestled, and huddled along rolling pastoral intercepting slope thru effort of applying to many subsidized housing facilities, a cessation never more to mope (unless unfortunately, we get evicted) this former one class room per grade school house long since repurposed into Highland Manor nestled in the bucolic greensward of Schwenksville, Pennsylvania. Postal Zone Improve Plan re: ZIP code 19473 came about just in the nick of time when an unexpectedly pleasant call conveyed via cheerful voice office manager, (honest to dogness), I consider as a divine goddess, whose positive source prime news that my application – set in the mail about a year ago – (after date original reasonable rhyme written) inched to the top tier after a one bedroom apartment became available – which reasonable cost hoop fully doth not necessitate spending me last dime, a prayer that longevity cane outlast the previous senior citizen, said former tenant opted to reside at a nursing home. * * * * * * * * * * * Perhaps because of malfunctioning duodenum and cerebellum (just a hunch) whatever does spur one to analyze lyrics Skidamarink a dink, a dink Skidamarink a doo I love you... though to be perfectly tongue in cheek, aye haint gotta handy dandy clue, what lines after asterisk mean, yet nevertheless suspect only asses like me find themselves in arrears – and nary a blue blazing snowball chance in…hell low, aye pray to dog while rusty nine inch nails I eschew that no urine crisis of this body electric deters me going to the loo pee else yours truly pissed off sir/ma'am…stumbling along the boulevard of broken dreams, maybe joining a motley crue, or a posse sub bull contra band of thieves to stay alive as haggardness grew force to panhandle just enough loose change to utter a wimpy yahoo but…if in charitable and philanthropic mood…. well I hate to beg for you to toss a coin so this rattletrap can escape Bing caged in the human zoo.