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Soul of skeptic writhes with agonizing torture (like a burning man) in Dante's Inferno

Self immolation as sacrificial bleating lamb
promises eternal martyrdom
awaiting voluntary die hard protester,
where countless vestal virgins provide blissfulness
(think Playboy mansion on steroids)
synonymous with delightful
grand view garden of Eden
transmuting mortal flesh
(clothed in lovely bones)
into burnt offering
mummifying and searing
once robust sacred heart
courtesy hungry, and angry forked flames.

Escape said hell on Earth I must,
which hopefully convincingly
explains the above nightmarish scenario
awaking me from an otherwise pleasant siesta.

Livingsocial here at Highland Manor
sparks the matchless following hyperbole,
whereby overactive imagination
fosters grim statistics of suicide in general,
and setting her/himself afire in particular,
yes no matter the truism, we
(yours truly and the missus)
can attest to a roof
(recently reshingled) over our head.

If only the (laugh-in) fickle finger of fate
would bless with doggone sudden wealth,
or bestow beneficent altruistic philanthropist
to bolster my very anemic
checking and savings accounts
which still smarts nearly eleven months
after weathering a blitzkrieg assault
iterated umpteen times
within previous poems,

and even posted a gofundme page,
whose soothing telephone voice
calm, cool and collected (sotto voce) belied
blood thirsty Machiavellian
scheming compute hacker and fraudster,
who called himself Harvey Specter;
One scheming scammer,
who made out like a bandit
 after he fleeced one naive sexagenarian.

No matter psychological services
found the author of these words vilifying
above named malevolent online marauder
who initially (convincingly) weaseled his way
thru the milieu of cyberspace
zapping this Apple Macbook Pro laptop,
claiming to be holier than thou
by disabling access to the Internet,
I fell prey to his charade,
binary enfilade, and façade
entranced and mesmerized,
subsequently feeling wretched
after carrying out the bidding
by unforgettable referenced clip artist,
which incident of being bilked
reported to the local police,
whose promptitude responding
offered small consolation.

Little forgiveness yielded toward
a punning wordsmith,
still seething, fuming, livid with rage
and mad as a hatter at himself
for following hook, line and sinker,
an older fella ordinarily tentative and cautious
when commingling with persons unknown.

Style / type: 
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those said hucksters, who profess to share wild schemes of wealth with the sex and septenaries and beyond, are shameful and heartless beyond measure. One can only hope that Karma will intrude upon their lives, with a table full of gourmet desserts and sugar plums, only to be snatched away like the dreams of golden gates and heaven upon the grounds of said
households. Pity would be wasted on those blackguards, and many souls will rejoice at their discomfiture. If there is to be one thing said for there being a heaven and/or hell, it will be that these souls will be forever roasted in the flames generated by the burning of their ill-gotten gains. As per usual, I am incensed and burnt up over the nonchalant and petty sentences, handed down by the authorities, when they are discovered. ~ Geez.

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