No surprise, rhyme nor reason,
I tease out extraordinary threads,
sometimes deliberately writing
about current calendar day or season

for instance today July 28th, 2020
another hazy, hot, and humid summer day
and so what if I proclaim oust
Glenn Eric "Hurricane,"
that would be meteorological treason.

He (aforementioned
storied weather forecaster)
within Philadelphia metropolitan area
gets paid big bucks
and undoubtedly clucks
all self important
wears his outsize ego ranking deluxe

commandeering all his ducks
they line up pronto courtesy Drake
who doth josh regarding,
especially when climate change in flux,
and prediction turns out
unlike what got forecast.

Aside from tapping into
unusual poetic subjects to boot
I also attest one
garden variety generic ole coot,
i.e. me tends to wander off course
go ahead and ask if I give hoot
but speculate I house unique flair
that thus far literary endeavor

DID NOT generate any loot
moost likely (strong possibility)
fingers and toes kept crossed
posthumous fame and fortune will prevail
great expectation would NOT necessarily
be rendered null and void moot
since surviving spouse
and deux darling grown daughters
(humble dada his figurative horns he doth toot.

Anyway the eldest lives in Oakland, California
an avid runner keeping her wits thenceforward,
whereby youngest resides in Bend, Oregon,
the former more so emotionally scarred,
nevertheless both cherished offspring, I regard

both unwittingly, unintentionally, and undeservedly
"hoisted overboard with papa's petard"
subsequently any altruistic endowment
best done anonymously courtesy philanthropist
perhaps her/his superfluous disposable income
he/she seeks willingly to discard.

Without fanfare for common man,
(one modest fellow) ofttimes
experiences brilliant concluding verse
poetic pièce de résistance terse
valiantly trying to nurse

semblance of grandeur despite
feeble minded and lame effort to craft
aforementioned dead on arrival
lofty ambition I now curse

Hence back to figurative drawing board
after yours truly tried
initially, excitedly, and animatedly
describe his penchant to ford
treacherous humdrum blandness
rather more often than not,
nonetheless I resign myself

here on in follow drinking gourd
I blithely ignored
(and got lost someplate
within the Milky Way)
foolhardiness to hitch
metaphorical wagon to star
anchored and securely moored

now think of favorite author
whom even after death roared
to stellar renown scored
unanimous raving plaudits
(creative, innovative, and provocative)
aside from yours truly
utter embarrassment, he leans toward.

This hug gust aspiring writer..., albeit youth
fool looking imp posse Hubble wordsmith,
(i.e. the babbling dad) **** sitters hyperbole
insync as acceptable literary playfulness,
no matter figurative persiflage

bespeaks, expresses, invokes, jimmy's...
simultaneously stretching limits credulity
(think courtesy metaphorical crowbar)
teases out apropos exaggeration
after quaffing vermilion vintage vermouth
without shadow of doubt signifying untruth
merely relishes using me pickled brine

as a practiced whereby this word sleuth
doth das scribe today July twenty seventh, tooth
house sand and twenty, hoop fully
hits pun hushing metaphorical home runs,
yours truly figurative slugger and word sleuth

rivaling those four baggers
fielded by legendary Babe Ruth
lemme know if literary endeavor
(even juiced by ghost of chance) forsooth
prominently tickles one and/or booth

Funny bones belonging to thee
generic garden variety bot
dear reader rabbit carrot
teen loony toon Bugs Bunny
impersonator 'course I would unroll

welcome mat (a two seater)
roomy for outsize trumpeting despot
Scottish tartan and Harris tweed
(cuz I'm boss), oh... I almost forgot
dons hat as coordinator

three ring circuits, who runs hot
and cold compliments
courtesy schizoid personality disorder,
when juiced mere unicellular, speck, jot...
nine month parasite huddled in utero

with umbilical cord tied into Gordian knot
assimilating, gestating, maturing,
signaling mine trademark bon mot,
which aforementioned gobbledygook
poetic translation essentially means diddly-squat.

All Joe King aside, I embarked
as independent contractor
for United States Space Force
as 007 secret double agent
to craft senseless poem with humorous bent
quite aware acronym designating heaven cent
ear, nose and throat specialist

may not necessarily wax poetic,
thus scud daddy ling dude,
(nevertheless quite decent)
wrought literary dud versus
concocting Earth shaking event
versatility exemplifying fragment
infinitesimal ability owned by modest gent,

Who took reprieve NOT
exhausting his laudatory wellspring
subsequently all he wrote comprises something
inane, and without sophisticated substance
essentially absolute zero nothing
nutritious for cerebral cortex
to feast upon material hampering
intellectual succor zilch
otherwise outcome ranked as low achieving.

Far as the (ease)
severely myopic eyes can see,
nothing but polluted atmosphere
where skull and crossbones
memento mori betokens beware,

especially with increasing chronology
mortality becomes crystal clear
existential crisis yours truly didst despair
not so much death itself, but failure
(inadequacy) at livingsocial

mine life to the hilt
plain as day everywhere
casual attitude apropos
(pertinent personal paradigm
regarding aspiring poet)
equals laissez faire,
hence the following
his apt nom de guerre
emotionally castrated docile heir.

Minimal milestones attained he
blithely professes, grants, attests,
et cetera as general rule
barely squeaked by
(think graduating high school)
weatherbeaten and rust covered cerebral tool

smartly linkedin cogs and wheels
buzzfeeding delicate threads didst unspool
above mentioned metaphor near
perfectly, quintessentially, and realistically virtual
extempore description hoopfully edifies
thee dear reader figuratively yours truly
got swallowed into vortex whirlpool.

Maelstrom pitched me to and fro
hither and yon into damndest chaos
drowned me under dead end zone
fiercest storm ever
raging across Lake Woebegone
stronger than bajillion healthy
male primates oozing testosterone
empowered with indomitable strength
downing ordinarily toxic

(even infinitesimal quantity) quinone
think beefy hulking Hercules types
built powerlifters second to none
pulsating pecks, quaking quads,
and ripped reputations
far and wide known
with versatility now
smattering of lines
constituting this poem I hone.

Invisible omnipresent nemesis,
(perhaps the Schwenksville Strangler)
appears intent on asphyxiating,
and simultaneously forcing yours truly
to experience unbearable

oppression, humiliation, and agitation,
whereby joie de vivre extinguished
provoking sadness linkedin
with remembrance of things past
agonizing, kickstarting torturing

absolute zero ability to relish the present
essentially forced to recollect
nasty, short and brutish mailer daemons
characterizing diabolical ghosts
representing nauseating, and haunting

hurtful ***** deeds done dirt cheap
courtesy my selfishness
verboten fruit tasted within recent past
now the bitter aftertaste
analogous to Scrooge
suddenly horrified about his stingy self.

causing percussive rumpus

Meanwhile good n plenty vibrations resonated
felt and heard round the world wide web
(strongest quaking sensations
occurred upon double mattresses atop bed
within apartment unit b44
2 Highland Manor Drive),

but woody d'ya believe
drumming, flagellating
and whipping gluteus maximus
spurred surging aftershock tremors
launched rocketed pecker
(property yours truly).

Imagine slap happy spouse
ain't misbehavin
just being her playful
(think cheeky) self
knick knack paddy whacking

undeservedly thrashing,
pummeling, beating
the living daylights
buttucks long past their prime
formerly cute palm pilot *****,

now subjected courtesy
cruel aging process
wrought ugly human cellulite,
nevertheless I made
feeble attempts to rear up in protest

against asinine wifely antics,
while she obviously disregarded
feebly wailing for nought
me lamely uttering
friggin ****** ****** in vain.

Zee spouse ain't no sadomasochist,
she just thrills
treating gluteus maximus (mine)
as a plaything

(think cat toying with mouse)
thwacking me fleshy behind
until derriere belonging to yours truly
feels comfortably numb.

Thee aforementioned shenanigans
predominantly arise, when
wedded counterpart owns advantage,
whereby I eagerly welcome shut eye

lo and behold only to experience
mine hinny quickly getting smacked
after I barely shuttered these tired eyelids
sneaking couple winks.

What recently began as
whimsical spur of
kickstarting moment
ushering tactile kibitizing
suddenly became nightly ritual,
whereby this humble husband
meekly surrenders bare bottom

(actually partner with skewed enjoyment
at my expense)
pulls off outer clothes
plus underpants (elasticity
long since stretched out)
wallopping me ***
until flesh heavily
spindled, lacerated, and bruised.

Otherwise titled:
Mien wonderful wedded divine wife
whose piercing deliverance...,
a balm ameliorating tattooed strife
despite being dirt poor,

I cherish her pricelessness, how nice,
a beacon complementing/
supplementing homelife,
who will forever be with me
even during our (mine
atheistic couched) afterlife.

She, the mother
of our deux darling daughters, I adore
though ofttimes, she never knows...
expressing love tis quite an arduous chore
concerning me upon this (we quietly celebrate

wedding anniversary, whoa...
how quickly time doth pass, cuz we wed
yes already number xxiv, i.e. twenty four)
orbitz around the sun, we reminisce...

So much emotional turbulence
nearly rent asunder,
I accept culpability (yours truly)
strayed against sacred covenant
went wayward intrepid misdeeds

nearly perilously upended marriage,
said vaguely worded blunder
wrought catastrophic upheaval
reigned analogous how millenniums ago
Vandals, Huns, Goths,

et cetera did plunder
and ransack the
outer limits of Roman empire
our pledged troth shattered,
whereby the missus outclassed Zeus,

she emitted deafening thunder,
yet annulment nor divorce,
she would not grant
sigh of great relief
and mystery I wonder...

To this July twenty third -
how hands of father time
speedily lept away
two thousand and twenty,

an (extra) ordinary day
to be alive and appreciate sticktoitiveness
toward her, whose troth I pledged
courtesy thee (sacrilegious infidel)
mine discreet liaisons spouse forgave

NOT telling me hike along highway
and/or boulevard of broken dreams, motorway
avoided, cuz she thee missus
WANTED me to stay

in role of legally wedded husband
(and father to deux special grown lasses)
when they (progeny)...
were just newborn babes yesterday!

still indelibly scored within
windmills of my mind
this July 22nd, 2020.

Imagine yours truly post pubescence
(no matter ye never met me)
all that life in front of me
argh... precious time squandered
abustle with rattle and hum of compulsions
slavishly buzzfeeding pet peeves.

Anorexia nervosa ranked
as thee moost detrimental
upon cusp of prepubescence
I metaphorically teetered
and tottered on the brink
of deep Russian Siberian exile.

While awaiting piano lesson
(circa early 1970's)
collapsed unto the floor
Barbara McCall, née Youngblood
helplessly watched her student (me)
he flailed, garbled, hobbled...
succumbed into heart of darkness
softly wailing "I cannot live anymore"
or some such grievous plaintive utterance.

Long befuddled and dazed journey into night
began to hound my doggone noggin
while in the throes of puberty
voices dictated me to forego
first one meal, two, then all hunger pangs
eventually stymied, squelched, and silenced.

Dumbfounded family members
(father, mother, and deux sisters)
baffled, and thought
precious progeny and brother respectively
possibly involved with drugs
(an easier fix in retrospect),
versus shattered psyche (mine)
analogous to Humpty Dumpty mishap
only far more serious.

Even curious peers queried me
during lunchtime understandably asking,
whether non intake of food
nsync and/or linkedin
with particular religion,
which inquisitiveness answered
with shrug of shoulders,
cuz reason without rhyme
i.e. existential crisis
impossible mission to communicate
at that moment, whereby
all ears and eyes turned toward me
I wanted to crawl into
a black hole and disappear.

I felt absolutely zero joie de vivre
(no surprise stating the obvious)
essentially loathed being alive
when fellow students grilled me
(unspoken tongue in cheek retort
cheeses crust inaudibly uttered).

A short while prior
before anorexia nervosa got free rein
to ride amuck
analogous to red
(angry) bulls running roughshod
think utmost helter skelter
my mother acquired degree
as licensed practical nurse
courtesy local vocational trade school.

She crafted nutritious concoctions
yet interestingly enough
did not watch me like a hawk
rather left her sole skinny son
with task to consume sizable quantity
without dereliction to pour
said healthy drink down toilet.

I quickly established a ritual sipping elixir
whereby yours truly filled
little plastic measuring cup
then painstakingly nursed
said tumbler size capful

down to the last drop,
which inexorably time consuming process
found hardly any spare hours
for any other (necessary
or otherwise) function.

Eventually solid food intake
integrated with pureed secret ingredients,
yet even the painful prospect receiving
iron inoculations into bony buttucks
(punitive punishment gladly accepted)
without curbing appetite for self destruction,

which as an aside mother dearest
never disclosed constituent parts
comprising blended conglomerate
when, some few decades later,
she went to her grave.

Impossible mission to avoid senescence
nevertheless, yours truly sought
to hold back hands of time
aging petrified me, and imposed
(Uriah) heap of great expectations
and unwanted responsibilities.

In short, I did not want to grow up
forced to don mantle of adulthood
instead hankered and hungered
for fictionally nostalgic boyhood
whereby every day
exemplified hunky dory nirvana.

Scapegoat my middle name
bullies identify perfect bullseye
analogous to trumpeting antagonists
me as carnival barker calls out:
step right up draw an arrow from quiver
take aim at mine plainly affixed target.

Deplorable basket case loathed adult role
idealized mythical boyhood
refrained eating courtesy anorexia nervosa
deprived growing body sustenance
scores of Earth orbitz round sun since puberty
vehemently decry growth process sabotaged
self stigmatized stunt(ed) man
I stand on tippy toes, a pygmy among giants.

Sadness ofttimes eclipses
hijacked and jackknifed joy
aware emotional faculty
thru conscious facilitated meditation
can jar infinitesimally
long log jammed **** friggin
invisible obstruction along battle creek.

Linkedin with recovery coach,
I experienced (today July 20th, 2020)
around high noon cathartic enlightenment,
which revelation heightened awareness
how when just a lil lad yours truly
exhibited socially withdrawn demeanor
mollycoddled by overprotective parents
placed no demands upon their

sole contemplative introspective,
and ruminative non prodigal son,
yet upon edging into adulthood
self same idiosyncratic person (i.e. me)
faulted for supposed antipathy
(lack of genuine interest)
toward other family members.

Absent marginal positive self image
infinitesimal if ever present
within grown docile scaredy cat,
his informal assignment
accepted with little objection
constituted the following:

Daily repeated (ideally more than once)
self affirmations jotted down
(courtesy brainchild
of yours truly, yet prompted
by unnamed magnificent therapist
employed by creative health services)
strongly suggested technique
to seed empowerment fostering joie de vivre.

The waning days of
mein kampf and hard times
flicker with cautious optimism to wax poetic
versus anecdotal personal gloom frequently cited
spring from raw bits whereby yours truly
thee focus of disproportionate
maternal and paternal affections

(an immediately recalled factotum)
unwittingly created sibling envy
dur my formative years
never known to yours truly then
only counted decades
ex post facto courtesy mother
some months prior to her death.