The Perfect Comeback - Ex Post Facto Poem by matthew harris

Admiration and kudos
to language mongers gifted with means
to deflect, offset and/or stave off
venous, sacrilegious, pompous,
et cetera lethal impacts delivered chiefly
to degrade reed: character assassinate
where deliberate hefty insult bruited

viz zit ed via biting acrimonious gloating
by some trumpet ting Don Juan
ideally to be met and taken off guard
with cutting, fitting, and incriminating
taste of bitter pill as bad medicine measure for measure
where prognosis decreed much ado about nothing,

which earns the repartee deliverer at the least
(from this language maven anyway)- ayay -
raising the bar, per
how can eye whip up a creative reply
to ward psychic bruises
would be confirmed by an x-ray
evidencing sharp black barbs lobbed my way.

thee above described thus:
this tha sore us temple lit bind i as pun stir
can experience; a maxim hum jet lag oye vay
boot how novel, if i could witness
(or personally experience)quick

lightening rod quips
that would come to mine rescue
but generally, honestly and indubitably,
this good humor mwm
attests and accepts slow moving cogs and wheels
of his ging noggin normally, notoriously

and nominally NEVER nsync
with nearly top notch national offensive
scrabbling brigands, this never will happen
to utter a trail blazing, nail biting,
and hair raising awesome badinage

more likely than not, mum hind
lacks proper cerebral mechanism
to dream up, and get linkedin
exactly at the prime time.

an absolute beauty of a doozy, flapping like a floozy,
hypothetically intimated
tele tubby totally tubularly groovy, man
and find me a bit woozy
with a flickr ring shutterfly twittering wii zing
hacking, joyous, and kindling euphoria -

asthma sign us iz
would go thru the roof - of my mouth
boot opportunities foregone to daydreaming
after serious lapse of time,
yet speculatively, and in sum re:

prime tete a tete would spring up
to parry, defang, and blunt puncture psyche of mine
(imaginative tea zing red zinger,
would be one for the record books) ,

sans right on cue, rapier jabbing (yet artfully crafted)
an unusually timely reciprocal sparring touché
(leading competition, by my itty, bitty ditty) , witty
award winning smart riposte would arise supremely
after incidents arose from circumstance.

yet twin next opportunity passes,
the critical moment will pass,
and some sanctimonious
sham skewer will spiritedly
finding me wishing the means existed
to conjure up an instant replay
all to often when the recipient of an unkind word,
an ideal return salvo occurs from synaptic delay.