Citizens Bank checking account...

electronically looted, pilferred,
sabotaged, et cetera...yet again

for the umteenth time

courtesy banker or employee
of Capital One the culprit
finding me strategizing in my den

of thieving magpies chiefly Rossini

actually our's (the missus and me),

primped and prodded himself
when out stage door left
here comes the rooster
who doth doodle

with his cocksure attitude

while when in her siesta the hen

dreaming, envisioning, frightening
nightmares videlicet harried lifestyles
of the rich and famous
while yours truly swiftly tailored
courtesy his own brand
of mailer daemons

subjecting me sadomasochistically
as if being inflicted
with blackened barbs

in jest this husband

for nearly thirty years

as her once adulterous Ken,
who still aspires for platonic relationship
with a liberal minded

nonestablishmentarian, proletarian

pennsylvanian, and Unitarian

writer wannabe, who whiz openly

receptive to a gal who exhibits

a rendering that represents

the ultimate moral standard of altruism,
empathy, and treating others
with kindness within the human community

often translated as "humaneness,"
"benevolence," or "co-humanity"
of the foundational virtue

wherein Chinese philosophy, Ren (仁)

meaning "humaneness"

or "benevolence"
eluding discovery within suburban
enclave, yet quiet enough

to experience ambient zen,
a minimalist aesthetic,
state of mind, or soundscape
designed to evoke peace,
clarity, and deep relaxation

essentially a school
of Mahayana Buddhism

that emphasizes direct,
intuitive enlightenment through meditation
to escape being preyed upon
which finds me breathlessly
uttering Jesus effing Christ
I feel in the cross hairs and targeted
cuz time and again

yours truly id est me
feels persecuted and crucified

dear almighty creator stop the world,

cuz next stop
I wanna and gonna get off
at Willoughby,
the little town time forgot
and the years could not improve
located within the outer limits
of the twilight zone,
where dark shadows forbidden
to affect pitch perfect Utopia,

an endless string of days

where ideal spring weather predominates

analogous to soundcloud machine
churning out massless globular renditions
rendering imagine aery dragons

frolicking in the autumn mist

with good ole Puff the magic dragon

blanketing the heavenly vault

casting vaporous figments

cue - kids television cartoons,
where enemies of major protagonistic
with futility attempt
employing violent character assassination

creators dreamt up since...

time immemorial soon after
age of television as novelty aired,

where teaser and the firecat meowed

after morning hath broken

showing and telling
fictional favorite episodes,
whereat figments of winning hits
live opulently in their own Nirvana,

where swell looking groundsward

case in point likened
to where Teletubbies live
within the make believe world

of fictional, grassy land
called Teletubbyland,
their main shelter an earth house
named the "Tubbytronic Superdome,"

totally immune to lawlessness run amuck
within the real webbed wide world

another case in point showing

the maddening shenanigans
such as experiencing 
at the unpleasant 
receiving end of bank fraud

cyber derelicts fatally impacted me

time and again
since the beginning of time,
where the forebears
of yours truly
lionized in tandem
with tagline of Tony the Tiger
(the owner of these hands
belonging to... Yes,
an Owner of a Lonely Heart )
unlike a bajillion years ago,
where rudimentary cingular
cellular life forms
totally oblivious to the burst
of disrupting peaceful
easy going feeling
countless millenniums later
to hear updated Katy Perry roar
(in imitation of iconic voice
originally created by
American bass singer and actor
Thurl Ravenscroft
prompting commercial pitch animal)
about Kellogg's sugar
Frosted Flakes "They're Gr-r-reat!"