Beddie bye boo ski time for yours truly and/or the missus

(joining "Wynken, Blynken and Nod"

at figurative drop of hat
even if yours truly immediately

woke from his slumbers).

When zapped of energy the sandman doth knock

no matter readout of analog or digital o'clock

hankering urge to sleep

exponentially increased with every passing tick tock.

Our marital bed

occupied about two and half score years

since we (me and the spouse) wed

even during spate (sowing wild oats -

regarding gathering rosebuds while I may)

of mine risqué business,

when unnamed husband did dread

with extreme trepidation manning left side

(picture said individual

lying on his back) atop

(sleep number) mattress,

predicting spouse considered me

(courtesy crimes of passion)

better off dead.

Though both deux daughters

(figuratively) flew the coop

mine wife chides me courtesy

(unwittingly preceding trend

concerning popular couture),

where she playfully
pulls down mine baggy sweatpants

leaving drawers droop

around mine skinny (think chicken)

spindle shank like bow legs

bent appendage vaguely hinting hula hoop

(fake detail here, which singular purpose

to supplement reasonable rhyme

ultimately sole purpose

to lasso and loop)

exert tight hold on reader's imagination

more torturous versus unsuspected prey

subjected to deafening war whoop

after cannibals counted scalps

sacrificed victims as human zoup.

Before concluding current poem

(which prompts me to think

metaphysically ruminating regarding
when does authored written work

reach childhood's end)

possibly vexing readers

to trot off to zz top less land

miserably (perhaps purposely)

failing to pony up

reining in long overdue adieu,

where beastie boy king of schnorrers

snores dreaming about
foo fighting motley crue (in dire straits)

donned in gay apparel characteristic ecru

whereby unconsciousness

REM memorable cycles found

upper and lower eyelids shuttered

courtesy invisible glue

hermetically sealed airtight

as blocks of ice constituting

(albeit housing) an igloo

temperatures greater than
five below fahrenheit

finds me freezing off my kazoo,

hence despite somnambulant state

I (charming cheater) trod along

tundra of broken

(not very sweet) dreams.

Invariably somnolence finds me dead tired

no recourse available

when energy meter expired.

Impossible mission to thwart repose

thus once noggin plunges into pillow
thus these lovely bones
approximate rigor mortis pose

faint breathing detectable out me nose

intermittent twitching of limbs

characterize highs and lows
stuff mine dreams are made

where mishmash of images juxtapose.