Oy vey iz mir, one day in the life of a common house broken schmeckle...,

who did pötschke
and squander many an opportunity
to become a mensch
instead he became persona non grata
condemned to a history of misery,
not unlike Doctor Hyde and Mister Jekyll,
where friends, Romans countrymen did heckle.

After all said and done,
I best have stayed
safe and sound in the womb,
or hopefully at the least honored after death
with a squadron of B-52s
flying overhead with vroom
while being enshrined in a tomb,
cuz the living years of yours truly (me),
one after another trial and tribulation did loom
which figurative weave
courtesy weft and warp wove gloom
ordained I experienced hell on earth,
thus an inescapable doom
left no option except to skadaddle
into the outer limits of the twilight zone
at the edge of night
courtesy magic broom.

Plenty of times,
I ate in a crowded house,
where the crawdads sing
sinking their teeth into cranberries, meatloaf
and red hot chili peppers
served with a side order of pop slop
don't be put off by the name,
which mishmash actually yum zook,
nevertheless cuisine fiends spurred a tussle
where flock of seagulls
who got into a spat took
sparring mates to the cleaners
with angry yardbirds twittering about xyz,
and tweeting when loosely translated
into English language essentially meant
much ado about floccinaucinihilipilification,*
(Sounds like

flaa·suh·now·suh·nai·uh·luh·pi·luh·fuh·kay·shn)
according to legendary interpretation
by expert ornithologist with keen insight
rivaling that of the eagles
known for their skill playing chess
ofttimes, use an upside-down rook
to designate a queen
under United States chess federation
rules and in casual play take a look
for yourself, rather than believe amateur
what might be considered poppy hook
line and sinker qualifying as gobbledygook,
which utter nonsense I did cook
up, yet please feel welcome my gibberish to brook
*the estimation of something as worthless.