to become affianced to the grim reaper,
who never promised me a rose garden
nor crystal clear pool of fragrant delight
to accompany last living breath
before succumbing into black hole sun
re: the void of nothingness
with absolute zero remembrance of things past.

Suicidal ideation in tandem
with purposelessness
(nihilistic existentialism exponentially
increasing since my halflife ago),
and most importantly
cursed with flat limp hair,
which serious crisis undermines reason
to write reasonable poetic expression
spurs the notion to traverse consciousness,
and painlessly segway
into the hereafter
(and maybe reincarnated into a heifer)
on a broken wing and a prayer.

No glorious notion of heaven
(nor belief in some omnipotent supreme creator,
who will be instrumental
uniting those meeting their demise)
with dead souls doth explain
zealousness toward what happens to human body
very soon after they – give up the ghost
(second person singular) and die,
yet intimation fostered
linkedin to dulling senses of mine,

that allow, enable,
and provide means to see or hear,
cuz already at threescore and five
revolutions clocked around the sun
post January thirteenth
two thousand and twenty four
increased insightfulness brings to mind,
a quickening uptick courtesy senescence
whereby aural and visual deterioration occur
at what appear faster clip

than when I happened to be younger
within the lovely bones of this sensate being,
who finds himself sensitive to loud sounds
discovered audiological test administered
hearing loss at extreme high and low ranges
similarly recognizing even the largest sized letters
on the Snellen eye chart
fraught with greater difficulty
particularly without wearing corrective eyewear.

After querying Google concerning a medical term for hearing loss of high and low frequencies, the closest response came back as follows.

While there isn't a single, universally accepted term for hearing loss affecting both high and low frequencies, it would typically be described as a "mixed frequency hearing loss" or "broadband hearing loss" on an audiogram, indicating significant hearing loss across a wide range of frequencies, including both high and low tones.

Before acquiescing to the afterlife,
I bolster maximum body, mind and spirit triage
aware declining senescence
affects physical, mental and spiritual well being
what fluke roll of the genetic dice throw
wrought yours truly (me),
whose latent potential
hijacked (to Cuba) thyself,
an anomaly sexagenarian

forever stunted socially courtesy
courting The Pale Horseman
when just a lad
of approximately a dozen years
of longevity since being born
thirteen days into
the first month of nineteen fifty nine,
when according
to most Western cultural interpretations,

being born on January 13, 1959,
would not be considered
particularly auspicious or unlucky;
it's simply a regular birthdate
with no inherent positive
or negative connotations
associated with it in mainstream beliefs.

Perhaps, cuz I (the male offspring
from both deceased parents,
especially my father –
the renown Chemist B.B. Harris,
and to a slightly lesser extent
the late culinary cuisine queen
Harmit Harms Kuritsky -
the gal whose troth he pledged
while holding some
bubbling sinister looking flask in hand
on their first guinea pig type date
encouraged incurred genetic yen
that burned from without the buns of this son)
possesses a pyromaniacal streak,
no surprise cremation would be my choice
of post life treatment videlicet
mine grateful dead as a doornail
cadaver formerly yours truly.

Believe it or not, a dead doornail is actually a thing. It's a medieval carpentry term for a nail that's been “clinched” — hammered into a door with any protruding part hammered flat. It wasn't going anywhere, making the doornail “dead” and unfit for future use.

though he played only a cameo role
helping me secure corrective eyewear I sport

mucho gratitude to all parties involved
including the missus,
cuz she needed to shuttle me
to and from hither and yon,
wherever I needed to go,
cuz entire bill paid
(including thorough examinations and lenses -
the frames repurposed

from one used many moons ago)
courtesy AETNA Medicare Advantra
in tandem with superb
ocular optometrist Doctor Paul Halpern,
that would be an unpaid for plug
touting outstanding kickass knowhow
insync with his offbeat good humor
without making a spectacle of himself.

Many insightful revolutionary breakthroughs
linkedin to gamut of intelligent people,
whose exhaustive mental,
physical and spiritual efforts
witnessed visually impaired
(shortsightedness affected wordsmith
since he entered second grade
at Eagleville Elementary School
circa approximately mid nineteen sixties)
and anticipated him being called
mildly derogatory name four eyes,
thus withheld donning glasses
at the expense of lackluster marks

for that half year, cuz parents moved
to 324 Level Road
initially R(oute) D(elivery)
until Donald Neilson
(if memory serves me
more correctly than spelling
of his surname, and "The Idler Wheel
Is Wiser Than the Driver of the *****
and Whipping Cords Will Serve You
More Than Ropes Will Ever Do" by Fiona Apple),
and yesterday November 12th, 2024
happily, proudly, and zealously wears glasses
to see the webbed wide world crystal clear.

Post cataract surgery,
about couple months
after consultation  at Kremer Eye Center
and finally came to figurative juncture
whereat (drum roll please...)
prescription adjusted eyeglasses
now sit squarely on my button nose -
as long as I hold them there with a finger
until cosmetic surgeon affixes a bump
on the bridge of said nose

analogous to the song titled
I can see clearly now the rain is gone
I can see all obstacles in my way
(courtesy Johnny Nash,
who raked in quite a bit of cash)
to drive our 2020 Hyundai Elantra
after dark shadows slink and slither
along the edge of night
encompassing an ever widening berth,
where the outer limits
meld with swathes of the twilight zone.

Despite being a nineteen year old bride
she wed Boyce Brandon Harris
half a decade her senior,
(where I ranked less than a twinkle in their eyes)
during the month of June 1955,
not quite half a century later ~ May 4th, 2005
death severed the pledge she did troth
linkedin wifely role,
cuz against her will she died
at most four weeks to be more exact
golden wedding anniversary never witnessed
raging against accursed grim reaper
countenance succumbed into collective sorrow

life force forever absent snatched away,
yet magically transformed
into the breathing edenic idyll
courtesy green thumb of eldest sister of mine
once livingsocial mother of ours
invoking trademark contagious l'chaim
flickering aura, charisma, instant karma
persona could not hide mommy dearest
physically eclipsed after
rigor mortis displayed deathly pallor
bonafide grateful dead
signed, sealed and delivered
human cargo into crematorium.

Born November 13th,1935,
the presence of long since deceased mother
her absence acutely recounted on said date,
no matter familial relationship between us,
who begat yours truly (me)
fraught with antipathy,
especially when writer of these words
felt he long overstayed his welcome
as I racked up living with parents
while being a long haired
pencil neck baby boomer geek
experiencing dating women for the first time
courtesy thursday night contra dance.

Books ravenously digested
and female protagonists he brood
as an illusory substitute for this dude
whose retreat into his bedroom
kindled like tinder unidirectional family feud
and donned Samson guise as a protective hood,
whereby Beatle browed,
foo fighting literate philosophical thinker
envied groovy hippies of the late nineteen sixties
riffing lyrics of fab four
fabled melody of Hey Jude,
where testosterone laden fantasies
triggered whet dreams housed lewd
seminal urges pestering spouse,
who offtimes rarely in the mood
for a quickie with the dickie.

Mein kampf as a thirty plus year old groom
test teasing prophylactics embarrassing
purchase never made at local drugstore
unsurprisingly, obviously, invariably...
birth control taboo subject, best to ignore
subsequently ******* awkwardly coordinated,
consummated, completed extempore
synonymous with ******* fulfillment
gonadal hormonal secretion
on par with the mythic sheet with a hole
through which ***** and archaic  
as modus operandi methodology
maternal grandparents supposedly copulated,
hence bun in the oven between self
and future missus Matthew Harris
wrought premarital *** bon jure.

I trot out essential tidbits of poem
acknowledging birthday of dear ole mom,
who succumbed to deadly terminal illness,
she lost lease on life, and met her demise
sooner than indomitable will clamored to live
approximately nineteen and a half years ago
from May 2024, who frequently asked me,
but never received acknowledgement
during her livingsocial years did abjure
(as the sole son)
communicating HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

Impossible aery mission
to pinpoint when advent of zygote
triggering miraculous bitta bing bitta bang,
whence deoxyribonucleic acid wrote
legacy of mortal maternal demise
only a hunch backed up
that mystery to unleash
feral fiendish fornication once smote
yielded unicellular spore
while in utero ~ early/mid

February I ain't exactly sure
nineteen hundred thirty five - dirt poor
Harriet Harris, fourth, last born
(interesting enough shared same birthdate
with eldest sister twelve years her senior)
fetched vicinity Coney Island offshore
by stork, became favorite progeny begat
courtesy Morris, and then swore
celibacy forever more
Rebeckah Kuritsky heretofore

harbored inchoate genetic fore
boded, encoded, inscribed
deadly mutations housed,
fetched, dispatched and bore
flawed BRCA1 and BRCA2 genes sketched
affecting circumscribing her allotted mortality
orbitz equaling about six months shy
of three and a half score
unknowingly, unsuspectingly, unwittingly,
her biologic fatal demise indelibly etched.

Breast cancer first brush
sounded death knell
Harriet clocked approximately
six months shy of being a septuagenarian
orbitz around the sun,
she underwent grueling radiation
plus chemotherapy
carcinoma eradicated allowed,
enabled, provided breathing spell
reprieve accentuated, galvanized, punctuated...

newfound zealous zest almost
nothing could quell
significance pray tell
new lease on life to sell
lib berate cherish, relish, whish
each precious moment
thwarting pell mell
adversity with bon vivant elan
and gusto to issue rebel yell

kickstarting, making breast
livingsocial aye bell,
especially after despite... er... well
her double mastectomy,
she looked fabulously swell
courtesy silicon implants
slight downside reconstituted
racked ***** *****
susceptible to ooze gel.

Many years post remission telltale
diagnosis, viz ovarian,
despite requisite hysterectomy
emotionally did impale,
she instinctually, intuitively,
invariably, yet quiver and quail
against impending demise 24/7 did assail
guardian angel(s) of no avail,
nor did yours truly proffer nurturance
resentment smoldering within this male
red hot poker anger lambasting me

peppered with ultimatums to vamoose,
never got resolved ensuing estrangement
deterred reaching out to embrace,
hearing raspy fading breaths exhale,
miserably tethered with tubes
when she did severely pine ail
and grievously bewail
corporeal essence ashen pale
awkwardly, helplessly, stupidly... I stood
formidable grim reaper foe whisked mother
to Elysian fielded dale.

which achievement, deportment,
endorsement, and indictment
(more serious than rigging an election)
jump/kickstarts (a divine comedy of errors)
not reason enough
to be deported),
but necessitates more than a facile effort
linkedin to a working knowledge
of familial genetics ofttimes

discovering, revealing, and unearthing
locked up figurative ghosts in the closet,
and/or shocking insights
courtesy vis a vis mapping lineage
of descendents whose deferment
being proactive when deciding
with absolute zero or
very little shadow of a doubt
versus someone analogous

to yours truly (me),
who offtime fumferes concerning
the course of action one will
assertively, decidedly, and proactively take
and keep to their word,
whether the issue in question
rather classed as superficial,
I will iterate after writing
a particular for instance as follows.

When asked (courtesy the missus)
if I ever plan to use the new hair brush
purchased at CVS a short time after
getting substantial lovely locks clipped,
yours truly responded
"when my hair gets long again"
despite promising myself
that donning the guise
of a baby boomer
long haired pencil neck geek
got nipped in the bud,
but subsequently (hypocritically)
explaining to her
the necessity to practice making excuses
lest one forget the delicate art
to thwart due diligence
to maintain irresoluteness.

Whether avoiding taking
figurative bull by the horn stance,
(particularly risky business
if one happens to be
the matador enraging
a monster red eyed bull
by waving red cape
in front of said animal -
analogous to Ke-mo sah-bee)
or evading asking Bill Thurman,
a portly non ambulatory resident
here at Highland Manor,

(whose Tuxedo patterned therapy feline
one of the most common coat colors
for shelter kitties -
a bicolor also called piebald cat  
with white fur combined
with fur of some other colour,
for example, solid black, tabby,
or colour pointed named Corbin
an affectionate loveable kitty,
who administers love bites),
who rightfully owes me five dollars

for asking me to clean his carpet,
but hate to remind said person,
cuz he promised to pay me,
and would rather
he square the marginal debt
(rather than triangulate him
by circling round the issue courtesy the missus)
of his own volition,
and thus resorted
to communicate with him telepathically,
and perchance a whim will prompt him

to leave a voice
and/or text message
gently coaxing poet of Perkiomen Valley (me)
to lend him a helping hand
such as withdrawing cash
from an ATM machine
or whisking boxes away
to be recycled or reused
at Liberty Thrift store or Worthwhile
offering perfect opportunity
to jog his memory nonchalantly.

ah jest wanna boomerang
back into the womb
versus being threatened
courtesy beastie boy gang
beating me to a pulp
after accurately discerning
being scared shitless pang
suddenly imagining myself
buffered, and buttressed
within zen Sibyl
prophet table Chinese philosophy
known as Yin and Yang.

No matter birth canal
long since got breached,
countless scores of years
I quickly grew
impossible mission to plunge
(think Nestea commercial)
headfirst back into utero,
haint got any got any
handy dandy blues clue,

nonetheless said wish
I broach to you,
whether ye reside in Baku
Guangzhou
Kalamazoo
Kathmandu
Peru
Thimphu
Timbuktu.

Sudden­ pang roared awake
nsync like blazing saddles
hot enough to sizzle steak
torpid, humid, and
arrid extra dry to take
breath away analogous vacuumed
courtesy fire breathing dragon
chilling parched scales in great lake
already this doubting

Thomas doth hanker
for global warming yore
less than six months ago
geesh for goodness sake,
when Earth did bake
triple digit temperatures
no thirst could slake,

thus intravenous feeding
in tandem with trach
still inadequate to brake
yours truly did pine... for chill
against dehydration, ah only to wake,
when came the morrow,
where Jack and Jill
sweat buckets, this

before they climbed uphill
akin to madding crowd
clamoring, thirsting, gulping...
every last drop
essentially emptying ****
immense reservoir spill
futilely swilling parched lips till...

Old cranks shrugged off
exceptionally hot weather, and did scoff
younger generation's creature comforts
old geezers recalled
back in the day
as laddies and Tom boy

lassies did slough
no trespassing signs
skinny dipping after they shuck off
clothes giddily swinging
atop highest bough
playing hooky averse

learning would ever payoff
pitying other kids in school
former gathering rosebuds...
around lunchtime hunger
relishing stealing stroganoff
under nose of Mister Groff,

one former German World War II,
who colluded with American "boys"
despite heavily decorated luftwaffe
and posthumously honored
Veterans day getting last laugh!

regarding President elect
Donald John Trump.

As a cruel joke to self,
I imagined myself as a Republican
for that one glorious day
voting for the candidate
who clinched the nomination
as our next commander in chief
and still reeling in the heady years
when said unnamed person
graced the covers
of countless magazines,
(especially those hard copy publications
with a politically right bent),
and electronic mass media platforms
when one felt proud
being the sole pachyderm in the room.

Within mein hermitage
now dwells one
disheveled miserable
troglodyte with a pet gecko,
who wept a tearful river of joy
upon hearing unbelievable news,
(about a lucky man with panache,
whose ghost writer wannabe
yours truly would relish),
albeit at snail's pace schlepped

finally proclamation emancipation
gave reasonable rhyme
yours truly to *******
not prematurely,
subsequently I leapt
out the window
without a parachute
of penthouse suite apartment
into the air, and kept
myself aloft completing

one after another sumersault,
flapping vestigial wings
at the speed of sound and except
for minor nuisance of gravity,
nevertheless landed feet first and crept
a secret portal
back into mine man cave adept
to survive alone
in the wilderness
with pointers
from the late **** Proenekke.

Two hundred and ninety five electoral votes
in layman's terms 72,600,307 votes (50.9%)
tallied across country,
gave ample reason
to do the hustle videlicet
grinding hips and bump
with the missus
decked out as Wilma Flintstone
after Trump declared victory
in a brief trunk hated speech,
an excerpt taken
quoting his exact words
at the Palm Beach
convention center in Florida.

"I’ll be fighting for you, and with every breath in my body,” Trump told supporters who had gathered at Palm Beach County Convention Center to cheer him on. “I will not rest until we deliver the strong, safe and prosperous America that our children deserve and that you deserve.”

Admirable, (yet reviled)
teetotaler contender
who hailed from Queens
orating at above named venue
finally plopped and fizzed out,
whose non verbal
body language issued relief,
thus spoke volumes
after Kamala Harris formerly
deprecated, implicated, and prosecuted  

adequately bad mouthed
to curry distasteful impression
of freshly minted sexagenarian
fêted after his unrigged win
analogous to reeling
once in a lifetime
catch of the day
hook line, and sinker  
anchored courtesy Taj Mahal replica
nearly bankrupted him
into dustbin of history

good ciao electorate voted in
lovable loutish oaf,
which four years ago
majority of voters chose to dump
best mandated to cavort
with zoot suited frump
on any given Wednesday
available to ****
rotund barenaked lady merging
into humongous protoplasmic lump.

Despite being caught
red handed concerning
more'n where's the beef
burnished braggadocio brilliantly
stole 2016 election
under nose of Hillary Clinton
abused role, when tasked
as commander in chief,
nevertheless touted with bravado

courtesy totalitarian zealots
across the webbed wide world
good ole Charlie Brown nemesis
deportation apologist
causing nothing but good grief,
hence yours truly quite elated
upon occasion when figurative new leaf
turned over and booted out
as more daring than Baghdad thief.

Hit the ground running
with nary a second to waste
Donald Trump, when
Mike Pence and company at the helm
blindsided proving their steely eyed mettle
despite victory lap Democrats did taste
ushered in COVID-19 game plan
bolstering pandemic defences,
where prior administration sorely misplaced
priorities United States Lady Liberty
wantonly, undeservedly, subsequently
her reputation disgraced.

Hope springs eternal -
ah tis amazing grace
yours truly suddenly
brimming with optimism
able bodied diverse cabinet to erase
formerly inept sycophants
with intentions base
running amok within White House
at long last competent
candidate won the race,
this tatterdemalion doth welcome
ye back Donald Trump,
no matter pulled off disappearing act
at Mar-A-Lago without a trace
sore loser teed off absent American
delivering his humiliating
defeat coup de grâce.

Adieu after presenting façade  
gussied poetic opinion editorial
donning guise as antithetical braying donkey
failing miserably to convince readers
without the help of  “artificial intelligence”
I cannot succeed generating “fake news”
dressed up as a senseless rhyme.

only just began early today
November 6th, 2024,
when my eyes frightfully espied
glaring headlines bespoke horror
conjured, portended and yielded
worse fate than being gratefully dead
after the polls tallied up the votes
beaming none other than
pudgy hugely crass blimp
as the forty seventh president
of the United States of America.

Before delving into worse case scenario
regarding the candidate,
who clinched the nomination
as commander in chief
with special thanks to Elon Musk
(despite being an engineering genius)
for amply funded inimical,
maniacal, and radical
antithetical, egotistical, and heretical
verbal incursion, and character assassination

videre licet concerning democratic opponent
boosting drek fueling horrible jibes,
no surprise after the got ballots counted
decreeing the overstuffed ego freezer
who will now occupy the White House
at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NW,
Washington, DC 20500,
subsequently, I posit thee
with a very obvious rhetorical question.

Members of the House and Senate
met in the House Chamber to conduct
the official count of electoral votes.

The Vice President of the United States,
as President of the Senate, presided
over the count in a strictly ministerial manner
and announces the results of the vote.

Now after imp of the pervert
amassed 270 electoral votes
and declared the avowed winner
while he blissfully gobbled
his favorite meal
consisting of Two Big Macs,
Two Fillet-o-Fish sandwiches,
a large Fry and a diet Coke
courtesy being heavy duty patron
and keeping McDonald's patriarchal
company financially afloat
Now dear reader, you ought to be
able, eager, ready, and willing
to participate in an after the fact
easy to answer guessing game?

Here goes.

Who can legitimately flaunt the law...
and get away with ****** scot-free?

Only someone christened
Donald John Trump
the 45th President of the United States:
he escaped being (even minimally)
penalized of countless crimes:
any other American would be prosecuted
found guilty, and subsequently sentenced
(courtesy strong arm of the law
witnessing guilty party
and his merry
contra band of accomplices
dealt harsh consequences)
to years of hard labor.

As a law abiding citizen,
I decry how legally nomenclatured,
qualified, schooled, and trained professionals
handled him with kid gloves
as if he happened to be the Messiah.

Analogous to some rabid animal,
the mean mien pitbull
disposition of Donald Trump
witnesses him foaming at the mouth
during his barnstorming, campaigning,
doxing, et cetera vituperation.

The next four long years
will witness wrecking ball
obliterating the foundations
constituting complex edifice
housing sacred tracts
fundamental documented blueprints
linkedin with ancillary trappings
servicing nasty and brutish gall
with pride and prejudice
exhibiting absolute zero
gentlemanly sense and sensibility.