You are not the same little girl you once were.
You have changed.
You have grown.
You have matured.
A transformation.
A metamorphosis.
Nothing can hold you back.
Now spread your wings, darling.
And fly.

our second of two lasses conceived
sometimes within a blink
the exact moment auguring conception
difficult to identify or pinpoint

whence seminal liquid
ejaculated from a phallic chink
birth of second daughter thyself and spouse created
while immersed in the coital drink

generally occurred during
our naked lunch sans primal cop
yule la shun, via carousing with amorousness
when a seminal dollop
of passion circa May 1998 that pregnant verity
became definitive when the ultrasound
evinced a miniscule glop

pronounced by obstetrician and gynecologist
with an impending due date
yet unpredictable until the wife did evince
a swelling abdominal area, an ordinary fate

once pregnancy without doubt
ascertained both of felt great
lee excited at prospect thee eldest
would become “big” sister,

which less than total devoted attention
she would naturally hate
upon begetting youngest punim
indubitably saw her (Eden) irate

yet any jealousy temporarily deferred, offset
and thwarted upon the birth
of Shana, whose anniversary
she exited birth canal when a dearth

of being cocooned in the womb
suddenly necessitated adjusting to life on Earth
when formerly inducing
a bulge within the uterine hearth

and this papa nearly nineteen years
wept tears of joyful delight
with a complete set of anatomical features,
and gender as the girl found wife excite
head, cuz decision asper circumcision,

a moot point re difficult conscience fight
club and prediction as per average adult height
of female progeny, number two found the sight
a biologically whipped miracle I held tight.

Once future spouse (Abby Zison)
   found herself in family way
(per first of 2 daughters – i dare say
determined sealed decision
   rolling in figurative hay
to wed mother of female progeny
   on agreed upon green day.

Both of us happened tubby older,
   yet poor in ad vice
grown offspring at ten times thrice
3 plus decades sans marital price
be generally precise fate sealed no clay dice

age difference
   approximately 18 months between us,
miserably living with parents -
o’er the year’s rancor grew
   betwixt a rack of allspice.

I agreed to pledge troth on premise this writer
(christened Matthew Harris)
   aka king scott the lighter
would find himself in the paternal bald throes
   becoming potential mister mom)

   in retrospect a contributing factor
   re: presents cause of acid spousal broth
pre cocks dominant
   seminal striver a Darwinian fighter.

Neither of us took precautions  
thru caution n latex prophylactic to the wind
inevitable (i.e. so called
   bun in oven) nonetheless
tasting verboten fruits branded us sinned
no surprise fated us biologically pinned.

Even though a decision to tie Gordian knot
(now gibbet noose - sense)
   donning tar role of future father
tightened inner conflict jostled inner being
against forming legal wedded union – the deus.

Prior to taking legal vow
   as husband and wife
until death doth us part
   before justice of the peace
(which building, happens
   to be a hop, skip n jump,

where this c dated papa
   experienced ceaseless strife
cuz gluteus maximus
   constitutes posterior bony arse
as if being cut by a knife

matrimonial bliss seemed like a pipe dream
subsequent years only
   to spirograph opposed prospect to marry
no general millstone

   aforementioned gal in particular
hardly filled me with giddy excitement
but a decision this troubadour
   wished to defer and tarry.

Passive agreement
   to acquiesce saying necessary “I do”
impregnating woman
   named above transpired until her belly grew
swollen with eden liat
   thy college junior “star student”
later tubby asleep – counting sheep lined up in a queue
of late, this personal stated affairs I chronically rue

immerse myself  
   reminiscing about yesteryear
wonder why passivity elected -
   piper paid - to escape
utter aversion living with dad and (my late) mom
both in a boiling can a bull stew.

Predilection to play Russian roulette
   avoiding any safe sexual mode
i.e. contraceptives to avoid unplanned pregnancy
shrugged atlas
   off fountainhead while spermatozoa

   adhered reproductive code
which absence to use birth control also arose
as natural propensity to procreate
   from urges that did goad.

Now, less joy de vivre doth prevail
to remain monogamous
   uphold strictures -
   imagine dragon albatross this male
fidelity, integrity morality, et cetera
   butts ahead without fail

from rampant testosterone urge
   to become appeased, fulfilled, satiated
   argh another torturous year
   bride and groom blindly entered
the unalterable sacred covenant
   whence sexual need now does ail.

After the birth of daughter numero dos did arrive
preponderance of physical gratification
took kamikaze nose dive once special cared 4 lass
   for long lasting marriage and love to strive.

postscript:
by George (saint Bernard reincarnated)
   shaw hoops me poetic ant ticks woos
kenye alight desire from heads to toes
reaching for another counterpart – yea –I sup pose
expressed verbal lingo if interest grows.

one email from this chap dwells
within southeastern pennsylvania -
about a three dozen plus miles
   northwest of deep purple city
oof philadelphia, pennsylvania.

jas Jan 5

scenery so beautiful it draws attention to your mind
rose petals are soothing to the skin
the touch, the feel.
thorns down at the end
guarding itself
along the stem
down to the roots
where the seeds were planted deep into the soil
that's the real beauty

                                           -don't chase after those who touch the flower without knowing the soil.

day five of 365
JD Harold Nov 2017

I'm going to miss this place,
with it's countless amount of forgettable faces.
I'm going to miss this home,
although for three years, I felt alone.
I'm going to miss this shelter,
but sometimes it made me feel like a cave dweller.
The time went by so fast and yet so slow.
I've got a lot of people to thank or hate so,
thanks to every person that made me feel like I meant something.
And to every person who made me feel like I meant nothing,
I hate you.

Childishly so.

I graduated.
I haven't grown up.

I wrote this a long time ago.

Big men stand on mountains
Big men shave their face
Big men use heavy hammers
Big men have so much grace

Big men tell stories
Of the years gone by
Big men will never
Let you are them cry

Now let me tell you something
Little man so small
One day you'll be a big man
Standing up so very tall

You'll stand on mountains
You'll shave your face
You'll use heavy hammers
You'll have so much grace

You'll tell your stories
Of conquering your fears
But please sweet little one
Don't be afraid to shed those tears

Tears are a gift
Good has given us to use
To make us feel better
When we feel abused

So cry those BIG tears
That REAL men do
Cause sometime they'll be a little man
Whose looking up to you

This poem was written for my then 4 yr old little guy when his father passed away. He didn't understand but tried so hard to be grown and strong for us all. He is now a Big man =)
Ileana Payamps Sep 2017

It all starts with a Facebook friend request,
Is that guy, who’s not ashamed of himself,
He did not want to treat her as a guest,  
All he probably needed was self-help.
She believed he was happily married,
Maybe something else he was looking for,
She sees how his ring he never carried,
His wife he wouldn’t value anymore.
But she was only seventeen years old,
He would talk to her like she was so grown,
None of his thoughts she could ever control,
She is so happy he left her alone.
She’s hoping this kid he has on his way,
Grows up to be a better man someday.

BladeRunner Aug 2017
End

Its the end of the end
I still love you

And we have tried
too many times

But its just the end

We are bound together forever
but our lives have grown apart

But in the end
its just the end

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