While rifling thru outdated writing,
     which virtual thumbing
     wrought non deadly chancre “FAKE” blister
(long thee envy o' this wordy mister
a reference to mine youngest sister
prior tuff fall lout dynamic
emotional frenzied analogous
     rapacious seditious tempestuous twister)

Tis hospitality of yar behalf
     to league gal lee
     tender our lovely daughter
     begat in part by meself,
     whose punctured psyche doth chaff
at mine severe prepubescent short comings,
     which trajectory of teen years,
     a downward line on spiro (Agnew) graph

which deprivations well nigh
     finds a civil war raging
     against one half of ma being
     (Oh Henry), a Harris son,
     who these days genuinely
     tries his Level best
     at lighter side of life to laugh
comedy of errors, boot

     haunting visions visit Twelfth Night
     figuratively brow beat
     like an unseen dis staff.
glad that Shana (thee darling daughter
     afflicted with cognitive development
     entailing homebased intervention) wince
she blossomed into
     a beautiful young lady,

     now under Dunning aegis (bonanza) since
emotionally stable, and quiet
     on western (Bend,
     Oregon) front, rinse
     sing with yar incredible credit karma,
     her existence Quince
sud dental (juiced teething),
     living with papa,

     would mount to a travesty,
sham, mockery...if superficial
     only perp pull reigning “FAKE” Prince
likely to barrel within
     outward bound mince
meted MainLiners along here
     built “mini mansion” homes
     NOT bedecked with chintz

at 724 west railroad avenue
     (previous address of this ******)
     anyway, should ill fate befall
     like an overstuffed blintz
if this king Lear Rick Hill
     wannabe meets fatal doom,
thy "mother abby" would
     get panic stricken (rue

wing my loss) if grim reaper
     came for das scribe as skew
ward poem attempted to infer, now
circling back to your queue
ped ditty linkedin with aforementioned
     poppycock poo poo
merely a hypothetical premise aye drew
     if my unexpected demise took place

     husbanding half a motley crue
(ideally such unexpected tragedy
     ideally tubby quick and painless)
     without war ning, via internal bombardier
     in tandem with luft waffe.
Sorry for rather somber tone -
     but this psychological state
      of yo dough less bro

     affected by his reading,
     autobiography coup (now, no idea titled tract)
d’état of Abraham Lincoln -
     the author drew
my rapt attention (american history
     strong interest) – whereby
     past, present n near fee var few
chore wrenched with both

     prized progeny persevering
     (as they should) a path to hew
of their own making,
     which steps toward emancipation
     (worthy proclamation) for gentile or Jew,
these kindred (chromosomal byproducts        
     from countless chanced
     genetic dice throws)

     perhaps n uncle or aunt a bit loo
knee, perchance dna housed new
bile queen of the nile,
     where (August) Caesar
     didst hotly pursue
anyway....yes, lives of
     deux darling daughters
     un wii ting lee triggered flashback,

     when self worth equaled zero  
     tricked, replayed, and generated
     mine horror silent film
     to rewind at nadir total fall out,
     when anorexia nervosa did stew

underscore ring (four decades plus…) true
     value of this moment colliding
     with elapsing squandered
     youth in rear view
mirror, unseen only
     by ma doppelganger,
     I now close with whew!