Sympathy I feel for those who haven’t seen what I’ve seen, and for those who have felt what I’ve felt. The embodiment of my regret, shining with all the light once saved me, now engulfs me in torment of my mistake. As I orbit in harmony with the rotation of a green star, that is much more than just a green star, I ponder what my life would be if I still had my green star. I know that in time, this green star that means everything and more to me, will collapse and perish, but we will only be able to see the star frozen in time, that very instant before it collapsed, desperately clinging to one single moment. I still cling to that moment, the moment I saw my soul break free from the chains that I thought would hold me down perpetually, in her eyes. I don’t quite know how it happened, I wasn’t looking for it, I wasn’t on the make, it was the perfect storm, I said one thing, she said another, and the next thing I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my days in the middle of that conversation. It’s painful to admit that I ruined the most precious friendship I’ve ever had, which tends to sting more when she was the only genuine friend I’ve ever had. I prefer solidarity most of the time, but that doesn’t mean I don’t long for a companion every now and again, but lately that desire grows stronger and stronger, holding on to the memory of the companion I once had and lost. My life on Earth, my past life, would be considered prosperous; I was one of the top aerospace engineers in the world, which is a very time consuming and painstaking practice, but exploring the unknown territories of the universe had always been my passion. I didn’t have much of a family, my mother and father passed away when I was 22 years old, and my brother and I severed ties shortly after the death of our parents, and I had not desire nor time for a significant other, let alone the willingness to dedicate my life to another person. I always believed that I embodied the definition of misplacement, I never seemed to fit in any particular group of people, nor with any other person, really, I enjoyed getting lost in the sea of my thoughts, riding the waves, pondering ideas, asking questions that can only be answered in theory, which essentially renders me incapable of interacting with others. However, being your own best friend can sometimes lead to psychotic thoughts of self-loathing, and eventually the last straw broke the backbone of my perseverance, and I convinced myself to commit suicide. Originality and pretentiousness ****** me, demanding myself to end my life a way no one else’s life has ended, and my imagination spiraled into a storm, brainstorming my own demise. My most recent endeavor at the time was to manufacture a personal bubble that would sustain in space, and condensing a spaceship into the size of a smart car was the threshold between my pathetic life of this planet, and self-destructive glory. After a year of an extremely unhealthy intensity of research, my talisman of my soul, my most cherished invention, my cosmic coffin. I traveled from my home in Anchorage to the highest point in Alaska, Mount McKinley, and inserted my body comfortably inside my space bubble and proceeded to ascend into my eternal salvation, ascending towards achievement of my life’s dream, ascending the edges of space, where no human has ever occupied in history. The butterfly feeling in my stomach, caused by the sheer joy I felt, is probably the closest feeling I had ever felt at the time to true love, the irony of my affection for death. As I slipped past our atmosphere and found myself floating closer towards the stars and planets, I sat down and enjoyed the galactic show of entropy before me, and after a while the visual melody put me in a hypnotic state, and before I knew it I was being stated down by a saucer shaped spaceship with luminous blue lights encompassing the round edge of the ship. I felt my capsule gravitating towards and entering the ship through a small hole on the underbelly of its structure, that appeared to look like a portal. As I passed through the light I was being observed by a feminine looking blue creature, with bright green eyes that sparkled like emeralds in the moonlight, and long, luscious blonde hair, straight and smooth as silk. She was tall, which I realized as I stood up out of my capsule, about an inch taller than my six foot frame, with long, skinny fingers and decently big webbed feet, and a long slender tail hanging down from her backside that wasn't quite long enough to touch the ground. She had shiny, scaly skin that had a deceptive rough appearance in texture, but felt soft and smooth when her hand reached out to embrace mine, and she said, "Hello, I am called Elora, what are you called?" Still in shock, the only awkward response I muttered was, "Eric" and she asked, "Why are you here Eric?" As I regained my quick wit I declared, "Does anyone know why they're here?" She smiled, exposing her sharp white teeth and proposed, "Well, you can help me find out." I think it had something to do with the adrenaline rush caused by the mystery and uncertainty of the situation, but I caught myself grinning, I didn't even realize I was smiling, it was an odd, unfamiliar feeling, but I was madly attracted to this blue angel from the stars. I spoke to her about my life on Earth, and my elaborate suicide plan, and she explained to me that she abandoned her home planet Eridani to conduct galactic research, and that she was from the Altair race. She elaborated on how life on Eridani did not satisfy her, and that she would spend her life roaming around nebulas, exploring galaxies, researching stars, and documenting her experiences. She showed me a star that she claims as hers, a green star called Zohra, which was her favorite star because she said she could only feel happiness when looking at it, to which I said, “It reminds of your eyes” and she looked at me and seemed flattered. She loved that star, her eyes lit up brighter than the star itself when she would stare at it, hypnotized at the sight of it, which I cared little to notice because I couldn’t look away from her. I couldn’t quite understand how someone could be so invested in something like that, something that just sits there spinning and spinning, peacefully participating in the orchestra of the universe. I think she was so fascinated by this object because she felt the same disconnect from others of our kind. The lonely, outcast feeling connected us, ironically, and we carried on intriguing conversation for what felt like an eternity, and I only wish that conversation could've lasted longer. I found in Elora what I had not found in any human being, she understood me, to the point where I was convinced she had mind reading abilities, and her understanding me didn’t diminish her interest in me, like what usually happened to me on Earth. I found happiness in her company, I found salvation in her embrace, I found unparalleled beauty inside and out, and I found myself in our friendship.  As time slowly rolled on my affection for Elora grew increasingly unbearable, and eventually the realization dawned upon me that I had to inform Elora of my feelings for her. We were accelerating towards the Crab Nebula, and I noticed the blurred blue light in the center, wrapped around by streams of red and yellow light, holding the blue heart in the center together. Elora was to me what the red and yellow streams were to the integrity of the Crab Nebula, without those streams, without Elora, my soul would fall apart and disburse, just like the blue light in the center of the Crab Nebula. When I turned, looked her square in her eyes, her gorgeous eyes that were accented by the light emitting from the Crab Nebula, those eyes that pull you in and leave you in a trance, those eyes that display the beauty of nature condensed into two little spheres that seemed to effortlessly gaze inside my soul, breaking down every single wall that I have ever built up to hide myself from other people, and uncover everything I so desperately attempted to hide deep down, and I said to her, “You are the only reason I’m still alive, the only reason I still want to live, the only other soul that accepted my lost, broken soul, you are the most amazing, most beautiful creature born from the stars we now roam around, I tried to die to see what heaven is like, but heaven can wait, because there is nothing more I want than to be with you until the day my soul slips away from my body, I am madly in love with you Elora.” I poured my heart and soul out to her, bleeding out every ounce of passion and love and sophistication to her, exposing every bit of my emotions, leaving me naked and defenseless before her. Different scenarios raced around my head about how she would respond, and she glanced down at the ground, looked back up at my blank face, and she said, “My people do not love, we do not believe in love, and we cannot love. Love, no matter how polarizing it may seem, always fades in time, everything fades in time, love fades in time, ideas fade in time, you will fade in time, I will fade in time, in the end, nothing is perpetual.” My heart sank down into my stomach, and right at that moment I grasped the idea of why they call it “falling in love” because I landed harder than I could even fathom, I did not know that such powerful emotional sorrow could physically hurt so bad. I dropped down to one knee, and the streams of tears ran from my face and splashed down on the ground, like delicate little glass beads shattering as they made contact with the surface, shattering like my heart and soul. The pure agony and embarrassment of staying with the love of my life, whom I had just made an absolute fool of myself in front of, was enough to crush any man’s esteem, so the only rational option I could think of was bail towards my space bubble, and go as far away as I possibly could from the light that saved me. With every inch of separation between her and I, my heart and soul grew sour and stone cold, and new theories to rationalize my reaction and actions that followed. As a child I went to an amusement park, and I was particularly frightened of a certain attraction that lifted you straight up, a couple hundred feet, and dropped you straight down, and now I realize that my fears of love are comparable to this ride. I was so mortified by the ascension, which precedes love, that I could never enjoy the thrill of the fall, even though this time the safety harness didn’t soften the landing. I came to the conclusion, after years of thought, that I could not blame Elora, it was who she was and there was nothing she could do to change that, and instead of accepting the fact that she did not love me, I cowardly abandoned the only thing in my life that I gave a **** about, I ran away from the only other being in the universe that could make me smile the way she made me smile. After years of solidarity and self-loathing I realized that I would much rather spend my life with Elora, even if she didn’t love me, as opposed to regressing back to my lonesome life, only surrounded by a vast, more captivating scene. The only reason I am still alive is because I have not given up hope that one day I will find Elora again, and I will beg for her forgiveness, and hopefully I will be able to cherish every precious moment I spend with her. I solemnly believe that the slim chance will occur that I will once again see that face, gaze into those eyes I once did, and curse my old self for being foolish enough to leave her. I am not certain, but I can only hope that she is at least indifferent to encountering each other once again, but if she denies me I cannot blame her, because after all it is my fault for my impulsive escape. But for now I wander as a nomad amongst the stars that form constellations that all remind me of Elora, watch the planets rotate, and reminisce on the time we shared together, the time I took for granted, time that I consider to be the most precious moments of my life’s experience. I spend most of my time roaming around Zohra, which was where she and I parted ways, in hopes that one day she will return to her favorite star, to find me right there waiting for her, however patience has not served me well, and my actions which I so deeply regret caused her to abandon the star which she claimed as hers, the star that radiated happiness upon her, the magnificent star that embodied her in beauty and essence, to avoid the thought of me leaving her, which is justifiable because she was probably very flustered by me scrambling to leave her after my episode. I rotate around Zohra, observing its physical qualities, seeing Elora’s face every single time I look upon its surface, but one day the light exiting the pores of the planet grew significantly brighter, and Zohra began rotating and shaking at a phenomenally fast speed, and I witnessed Zohra swallow itself in a supernova, creating a black hole. I interpreted this to represent the death of the hope I had to once again see Elora, or maybe time had taken her like time had taken her beloved star. I allowed myself to succumb to the irresistible force from the black hole, and the death of hope I had to once more see the angelic face of my love, swallowed my space bubble and my hollow body occupying it, to the point of no return, where I can no longer regret what I had done to her, because in time, my love for her destroyed me.

Here, the wind whips
The desert sand
Into a furious haze
That blinds all in
It's vicinity

Here, my neighbor is
Dragged out and ******
And my other neighbor
Is drugged out, ******
Different burden, different labor

I pray,
On my knees
Toward the east.
I pray for change
I beg and plead,
Please

You always said you wanted
To be an aerospace engineer.
Someone who dedicates their whole life
To something so far away
Something they can never fully have.

I know how painful a life like that can be.
Because I'm already living it with you.

There is both fear and defiance in this horse's eye, but why?

The horse was NOT scared
I’m a war horse and nobody messes me with me
Not even aliens who think they’re big and hard!
Or so the horse defiantly thought
Well he also thought he was a horse but but but…

The horse was actually a spaceship!
Low and behold in all his glory
A real spaceship that was in space
To venture between the stars
And he was horse shaped.

But was made of aerospace grade materials
That was mined from distant asteroids
And built into a starship in a factory
That orbited Neptune for ease of use
For cosmic exploration and so more.

The horse shaped space vessel was big
Many miles high and across and heavy
Like the heaviest metal played by Compressorhead
Or mined from the most lucrative asteroid
Powered by fusion drive and ion engines.

Armed with triple laser cannon arrays
For defence against meteors and alien craft
Like now that were ready for war!
Zap! Zap! Zap! went the lasers guns.
Boom boom boom went the alien craft.

And Yahoo! whinnied the horse craft
As he became master of the galaxy
And unleashed war of the worlds
Thus dooming the entire universe
To violence and darkness if aliens won.

But a million horse shaped spaceships
Were being built in deep space
Up-gunned with undreamt of weapons
And uprated engines and other toys
Thus guaranteeing galactic horse victory.

There was no need for a human crew
Machines and robots took over
Ensuring a flawless capacity for success
As a hundred thousand ships sped off
To impose equine discipline in space.

taken up residence in all my areas and in these places
there is always a place for her

In my basement
when she rubs and soothes my toes to a numbing comfort
at opposite end her stretch lets my hands do the same to hers

Structure beams stand
and are why my calves and thighs continue to grow stronger
are incentive to be wrapped around her legs
and hers in a grip twist
throughout the curve of my hips to hold crossing
X made when I am wrapped

For entering the front porch
She knocks but not heard
for her tapping inquiries are irrelevant
So it turns, the doorknob turns
unlocking opening this abstract transition in my abdomen  
Here is hers to warm her hands
and chest
when chills come over
and Level-Up in connect
with another’s rushes
through bloods chamber controller

In the hearth of my arms
is where she sleeps off stressful days
and absorbs deep breaths
given to her by the nighttime in comfort fire
that keep warm in clutching swarm

The crawl space of my mind is her cozy retreat
Where she writes to and
receives poetry like excessive pounding heartbeats
and sings and reads, is read to and strummed to
in this cave of only good thoughts drape over, outweigh
and extend
root outward
sprout upward
seeds are sewed
for and of future place
take place
This is where she speaks one line
“Millions of days,”
and falling feta paints rapid wetness across raised cheeks
grazing my chin upward, with her fingers
where we pace, follow, and race,
To more moments in place on our backs
in the yard
just to lay and stare ahead
at endless sects of aerospace
As if in bed, in their others head

To not have you in photographs
would equate a great injustice
on my condition of hubris
You are a gift from time and place
to the aerospace
From the solarphere to here
Earth entrusted to Anna California
From Anna to Indiana
Ultimately graced us all with You
And You, You are the incomparable,
the incarnation of strength,
Of light,
Of beauty,
Of spirit,
And of love

I wasn't expecting
your B or your C game,
certainly not your J or K

or any other letters
in the alphabet, really,

except that one at the beginning:
looks like a pyramid with a perch,
isosceles triangle with bottom arisen,
traffic cone alerting to awesome ahead,
space shuttle tip to aerospace action,
an upside down V with a chin rest,
upward-pointing pencil tip,
2D teepee with a loft...

or your best
approximation.

Believe I am ruined


Habit of believing them
Always made me their followers
Even they proved thorn in rose many ways pricking other

Wanting or not wanting them
I sold my time further and further
Consequently, passing of era gave temple brown brother

Swallowing spit and even believing
Weightage of vote turned pale
Youths of both sexes decreased from my town brother

Couching in sofa their faces glow
As if almighty they are for all and for time
Consensus or process of opinion
Dying in my lap untimely brother

Believe I am ruined not having to drink pure water
Name of disease appears day by day
Killing numerous one after other

Town’s rumple in the evening and night
Tries to extract beautiful glamour
Poor they are even not know culture of death soaring hoard

Orphan children piles themselves
In my ruined town for sake of future
Certainly someday their turn of plight signals them come brother

Why a zero invention circles in me
Circumnavigating hopeless culture
When will those skyscrapers nod to salute my poor brother?

A class of enthusiasm and spirit glimpse
In the light of TV channel always
Programmer holding Mac to me and me like thousand brothers

Flown jets in the aerospace indicate
Dollars return bringing happiness for family
Suppressing heart by two hands see coffin’s of youth brother

Believe I am ruined in earth and space
Hesitantly seeing behave for soil, water and youths of village
Believe I am ruined seeing, leaving to respect youths’ spirit for.

The Final Call

excuse me please John, I gotta get this call
it's from my sweet baby, I'll take it in the hall

hey there, how are you, is everything allright
I've been concerned, haven't talked since last nite

I've been waiting all day, thought maybe somethings wrong
while I was waiting, I was working on this song

what time should I pick you up for dinner tonite
going to your favorite, Aerospace in Flight

what do you mean, you cannot make our date,
but, but baby, it's okay I'll wait

have I done something wrong, to make you so upset
was I supposed to be somewhere, and did I forget

I do not unerstand you, how can you flip that switch
yesterday you loved me, now you're acting like a *****

you whispered to me sweet nothings, said I was your man
now you say I pressure you, you're gonna chunk it in the can  

this is not the first time, that you have treated me this way
I do not understand the rules, of this constant game you play

but maybe it's the last time, don't come back around my door
I do not want to let you in, no I do not anymore

I'm not a **** in your garden, that you can pull and toss aside
you broke my heart one more time, even I have some pride

I tried to be a good guy, bang my head against the wall
I hope your life will work out, this is the Final Call

Gomer LePoet...

Fall danced away, winter melted away, spring came in and here i 'am still waiting for you.
I been waiting, you been waiting, for us to touch.
I remember the good times when i'd be by the airport watching all the aerospace flying by and day dreaming for the day to come, when our hearts would finally sync in touch with the love of our first kiss.
Midnight stars twinkled bright, while the moon shined into our lives to show us that we're not alone.
One look at the moon for me and you remind me that if we can both gaze up into this ball of light, we will be together far apart but in heart.
I hope soon we can see each other, each day for things to get better.
Shows to go that time goes by so quick beyond our seems and all of a sudden we get splashed with a biohazardess material that intoxicates all of our lives to the point of no return.
Now our world has gone to darkness, but we still have each other because the moon still stands strong and doesn't die without a fight.

"Tell me then, what do you see in your future?"

I didn't really know how to say what I thought and I didn't really think that any of them would understand. Could they even take me seriously? I guess I would find out.

"I see myself being free. Free from the normality that society feeds us. Free from the responsibilities that family expects us to take. I see myself wandering this world with nothing and nobody to tie me down. I see myself admiring all that there is to admire, seeing all there is to see, experiencing all that this giant world has to offer. I see myself creating a world that is better, starting with the smallest flaws. I see myself dying an old man, alone, somewhere in a far corner of the world, but smiling. That is what I see in my future."

They looked at me with blank expressions, or at least the few in the middle I was focusing on. I wondered if I should have bothered with the truth. This had better not hurt my chances of getting in.

"So you don't see yourself married? You don't want a nice house and kids? What about a job?"

Why did all of this even matter to them? They clearly didn't understand my first answer. Perhaps they were just shocked that I see myself potentially ending up alone. Or maybe they, like almost everyone else I'd ever admitted this all to, thought that I was just cold and anti-social. How exactly do I answer this one without sounding too abrasive?

"I see myself beginning with a normal job. Hopefully in the aerospace industry. But I have no intention of staying there forever. I would much prefer to be an entrepreneur and make my own way. As for marriage, I don't see myself ever being married. It's not that I don't want to be, in fact, I would love it if it ended up that way. The problem is that I don't think that I'll ever find someone like me. I don't want children or a nice suburban home. I don't want a mortgage or a deadbeat nine to five job. These things are like a toxin to me. They would hold me down, hold me back, and trap me. What woman could ever feel the same as I? Who could possibly prefer to live their life like me, having zero certainty or any form of normal life? No, I think that I will end up very much on my own. The thought does not bring me any certain joy, but I am not afraid to walk this earth alone."

That last part sounded extremely corny and rehearsed after I thought about it. I wouldn't really blame them if I wasn't taken seriously. Still, they looked at me with feigned interest or understanding, while I politely looked back. The leader, the one in the middle, had a slight frown on his face. Maybe I didn't even want to be a part of this 'exclusive' group if they were to be so close minded. I had just made a strong case for being alone anyway. I scanned the long row of faces for some sign.

That's when I saw, at the very end, a girl just slightly nodding. She looked at me with astoundingly green eyes. I could see it in them. Understanding. And just as suddenly, I realized that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't destined to be alone. Maybe,  just maybe, there were others out there who might understand.

I can't look at the sky anymore
It reminds me that I've failed to explore
What it means to reach so far up high
No matter how much, how hard I try
I'll never design the wings of a plane
Or find its material stress and strain
I'll never make a rocket land or rise
Mapping out exactly how it flies.
I'm told I overthink, that it's "just dreams"
"They're just delayed, it's not what it seems"
I've tried to believe, but it hurts inside
I guess they're not late, they've been denied.
No one knows what's really going on
But I'll apply and work till my strength is gone.
Will there be an answer? I don't know
I wish time would speed up, it's just so slow.

Howard Robard Hughes
Famously rich recluse
Dreams led him to the lap of luxury
Followed by nightmarish mysophobic OCD

Rich ******* aviator Howard Hughes
With movie starlets kept himself amused
Dated Katherine Hepburn
Bette Davis took her turn
And still more, which kept the tabloids confused

Born Howard Robard Hughes to a rich family
With English, Welsh and French Huguenot ancestry
Enjoyed a successful multi-faceted business career
But aviation and aerospace were his favorite frontier

i would call it
magical
but nothing
tricked my
eye
it was all expected but
came unexpectedly
drinking
black
coffee
under conversations
about craters
vast lands and
museums
explaining the
Internet wifi and
logins
to an aerospace
engineer
(we were stuck
in a snowglobe)
we’ve got to think
a million years
in advance.
~ok.
and we never
know when
Yellow Stone
will blow.
~ok.

he’s explaining
the needs
the elements
the equations
all tied
through
Einstein’s theory
of relativity
and i ask
algebra plus
chemistry equals
physics?
yes.
ok. now. you see
-he states
the fission
leaves a proton
out which
creates x y z
energy
to get to
the maximum
capacity (80-85%)
of light
speed.
(we’ll never
achieve 100%
because e=mc
squared tells
us we can’t)
~ok.

now the reason
why kids these
days must listen.
according to these
elementary calculations
we need frozen fertilized eggs.
~ok.

now listen.
the closest star
system that we
can escape to (Centauri)
is 4.37 light years
from here. and now,
at 25 years to
complete a
light year,
we’re looking at
109.25 years
to get there
(ponder). that’s more than a century.
~you see.
we have to
act now.
and
this
is why
i’m telling
you.

then i read,
the sands of
present time
are running
from under our
feet. Brion Gysin
told me, it’s
the
Great
Conundrum
(colon):
“What are we
here for (question
mark)? is all
that ever held
us here in the
first place
(statement).
F • E • A • R
the answer
to the riddle
of the Ages
has actually been
out on the street
since the first
step in space.

mike and i
staring at Pete
thinking of Vic
listening to Brion
simultaneously
(em dash)——
who runs may read
but few people
run fast enough.
again,
“What are we
here for?”
does the great
metaphysical
nut
revolve around
that?
then he explains…
“i’ll crack it for you, right
now.”
ok.
what are we
here for?
we are here
to go
(pause). and so I went.
—————–
running
as fast as
i could to
books, web pages,
the library,
my kids, Vince,
my clients, my
wife
¡we must do
something! that
no one
will ever
see
nor
know
about!

and not one
listened.

Startle response! Wake--

When danger is ante
cipated,0h
--0n
lego-h-overedge aver
age
verbage re sighin'

clinging vines from debunked strings and
threads twisted wit'em.

Assume, if ye may or plea or will as
ye wont, pray means ask.

That's all.
Here, wit'afewmisstook aitches and spaces:
here is what we got,

a fresh secret story, un concerning anything you
believed you believed of/from/about idea ifify ie able ity ness

Reason requires response, Will Robinson.
Hidden persuaded, almost,
but lost...

Really,
what sacrifice bought
young John Carson to sublimnal
top 0'the mind status,
for the first two tv
generations?

Who do you trust? Carson's tv game
show debut, aimed at after school,
junior high, latch key,
wait staff on swing shift or graveyard,
the entire set of doin' nuttin'
'round Tea, fancy goin'

head t' head wit' Mickey Mouse Club,
on all the UHF stations out west.

It's 1957, who do you trust?
Time's man o'the year,
The Hungarian Freedom Fighter Idea,
the first stiffed
equal-value re
belicose cold war victim
of the famine for the grammar
of kindness and good sense
associated with DNA,
little green apples, puppy dogs,the
straight up command to love them that hate ye,
enemies and other words for folk
who would just as soon **** you
as hear one more word
about peace.

VOG,
words were scrambled,
christic crypt vacuum
tube
signal to noise ratio, caliber calculater pro
jection on to the rerewall o'yeardamnedbrain,

VOG Cancel
Bozo. This ad will **** for us. We can own the
'earts and minds of every grammar 'ater ever.

Since Babel, since Eber 'is 'ebrew ef-
fective, fervent...strainer at jots and tittlishit
self.

This ad makes mistook rules po'man laughable,
punch'n'judy'ishit:

Whom
do you trust, the grammarian so like so many
Deweyish proguess
edumacated teachers, you had this teacher,

squint, wrinkle nose, tight jibbs
frameless wire rimmed specs, a greying bun,

flower print dress wit' the weest bit o'lace,
lipless snide corrector's face. A trope archetype,
heroes re
bel
on demand, that was the plan. It
started with

AN AD. Who do you trust? Black and white,
Here's Johnny standing under the billboard,
y'know,
for the show, standin' like *******, shoulders
shrugged, palms up, elbo's bent

(contenintal suit, note the skinny tie, why?)
Who do you trust? Innocent grin, wordless
"Who knows?" or "knew"?

Whodjewtrust, in 1957? Cronkite, nicht wahr?
See the USA in the USA

in yo' Chevrolet, ole!
Yew should try Ritalin, for pep.

Take Serutan tonight, and sleep, safe and restful,
sleep, sleep sleep

VOG (Scourby) and, remember Serutan is Natures,
spelled backwards. Cue the choir,

safe and restful, sleep, sleep fade away

----
Where were you in 1962? Off t'college,
watchin' Johnny of Johnnies,

Johhny Quest, Johnny Lighting, Johnny Carson on

Tonight, there's more...
after the news, the dayroom in the dorm,

this is whence the quips in the quad were to be
sharpened wit'

fashion able ible tips, to fit the Esquire *** Hef
uniform dress code of mutual hidden

persuadeds.

Some souls were spared the spread of the
original tv virus, VHF, couldn't penetrate
the canyon...never subjected
to Howdy Doody,
our brains were spared the
complexes planted via the sit
com cowboy war subplot
phase of novus ordo
secluremishitistcal
experiments in
alientated
mind control.
We lived in the desert, in a place

a lot like Oscar's Oasis,
a wordless Korean Cartoon
set in a desert much like mine. On Netflix, 2019.

I did not watch the mandated ten thousand hours,
even when the deadline for party affiliation

mental ascent was ex
tended, circa 1985, pre-
tending to be a measure of de
fencing public universities from the
effect of rock and roll,

since about 1964

with folk like Dylan and Baez and Hallelujah
Jubilee and Jambalaya on d'Baya,
Herb's brass on the Baja, where all the girls
work it,
like 'otel Kali phornia, sticky,

sweet, like a taste of Honey. Mr.Bond,
meet Miss
Galore. OH GOD, in the car from the speaker
she heard the idea the meaning

in the name, oh god, she squeezed my hand.

Honor Blackman plays that role, she whispered.

Trust me. It's a good plan. We got these kids!

Mom and dad just won the war, had six kids in five years,

Levittown di'n't work out, couldn't go home,
mixed marriage, from the war.

Things hap, cajun catholic wannabe aerospace engineer spy guy,
lands in Alamagordo and environs,
Summer 1944.

Here we are, Equinox, loosing season, 2019,

so some prayers were for real.

Red somthin'r'other butterflies are riding a rare breeze
from the south to the north through my
makepeace home. My peace I give,
he said,
all that passed is unexplored, take all the time

you can imagine.

My wife knows the names of those butterflies,
that's part o'm'peace. Knowin' she cares to remember
such improbably beautiful things;

soul possessed in patience, is she.

footnote 1: Despite Ciba’s efforts to market Ritalin as a ‘pep pill’, the stimulant failed to become a best-seller.  But that was not the end of Ritalin’s story.  As early as the 1930s, psychiatrists working at a children’s psychiatric institution in Rhode Island, USA had noticed that stimulant drugs could have a positive effect on the academic performance and behaviour of troubled children.  Although few psychiatrists took notice of these observations at the time, by the late 1950s, escalating concern about the educational abilities of American children during the height of the Cold War encouraged Ciba to consider a new application for their drug: underachieving schoolchildren.  They received approval from the American Food and Drug Administration (FDA) to market Ritalin to children in 1962 and, almost immediately, it became a best-selling drug (google it I didn't write the footnote pard but I forget where I got it.)

Living in a space station
the bottom faces Earth
life is lonely
hovering in the abyss.
Mentality heavy
feet get heavier as the mind sinks
until dying star feet become too heavy.

Every step taken
pushes the station towards Earth
intense fear                    sinking feeling.
Stay still                      don’t move
nothing stops the momentum of heavy feet
the station continues careening.

Panic                     panic
running around searching for answers
severe spinning starts
corkscrew bullet shot at Earth
no solutions                      pure terror
lead eyelids shield vertigo eyes.

Plummeting in an aerospace submarine
burning in the hellfire of the atmosphere
I keep falling until there’s nothing left.

rebated, rebirthed rebooted, and rebuked
ill shod Unitarian atheist

Though avast percentage
of stonehenge temple piloted ghosts,
harking back millennia
constantly zip unseen thru aerospace,
they unwittingly espy
woolly sheep hush fleeced herd
profoundly religious peep pulls
plodding fast as their
cleft hoofs take them
along well worn path
of former crusaders.

Among acquiescent devout subjects
one self repentant
quest shunning skeptic poet
suffers interminable emotional flagellation
employing righteous indignation
against his own iniquitous misdeeds
sullying the sacrosanct marital covenant.

Unpardonable egregious transgressions
committed (well nigh
***** deeds done dirt cheap
a dozen orbitz ago)
think adulterous flagrante delicto
constituted consummating rutting
sabotaging high fidelity.

Passionate ******* incorporating
communicating non verbal
vernacular animal needs
spoken on behalf of laity
comprising unlearned, nevertheless
superstitious population
indulged verboten fruit appetite,
yet adroit oral (tongue in cheek)
spread courtesy word of mouth.

Most pious take as gospel
every word in religious tomes
their collective soul asylum polestar,
and doth decree important doctrines
with especial accord
equal insignificance applied toward
Judeo-Christian holidays
across the chessboard of life,
thus Easter ranks as no exception
to the golden rule,

where Santa Claus reached an a chord
follow auspicious signs
alit in the night sky
shaped like a drinking gourd
perhaps amassing plentiful harvests
upon hamlets strewn
across ******* populated Earth
asper cornucopia exhibited secret hoard
sharing plentiful Horn
(and Hard art lesson learned)

to stave off barreness, ignored
going forward seeding nascent
March Madness with help from Lord
and Taylor as midwife hoot
tended Ville Nova moored
by striking Wildcat fanatics,
who unbelievably
espied heavens cleft asunder
and golden rays poured
while collective spectators

loudly deafeningly screamed
while housed within the soundgarden
analogous to ferocious cats
who hissed and roared
witnessed history scored
earning players knighted
with Excalibur sword
thence entire team handed
Taj Mahal shaped award,

which aforementioned
*** hide lacks, cuz zit
happens tubby April Fool's joke,
thus above iterated verses somehow needs
just a little bit of relevance to yoke
thine admitted ambivalent
reaction to sports,
yea aye pay figurative ****
hen to Rabbinic, generic fanatic primal
tribal village people clan destine woke,

and swinging focus of this poem
back toward Religious perp ported berth
when (sans antiquity) trumpet signaled
thus, any superstitions blew away dearth
when distant shofar heard
in every home and hearth
anticipating arrival of the Easter Bunny,
who brings mirth
and hop poly distributes sweet treats,
which children as grown adults,

no matter necessity
for teeth to be removed
the sugary over indulgence wool worth
today thee American Dental Association
chastises candy manufacturers
bandying more weight
gaining deadly, debauched,
and decadent, trait
then adultery - verboten fruit to sate
hash-tagged (vamoose skat
dad dulled) reprobate.

Borne aloft into the netherland
the body bearing thee soul  
of Boyce Brandon Harris
birth name given to my late father
buoyed aloft united with spirit
of mine late mother Harriet,
whose passing well nigh eighteen
orbitz of the earth around the sun.

Elysian fields embraced dada's soul
which rocketed into aerospace
(courtesy General Electric satellite)
just a tadpole more than three
guppies and a half years ago
froggy (disguised as grim reaper)
went a courtin for fresh corpse,
nevertheless melancholy
still plucks mine heart strings.

Mine psyche still situated awry
placid countenance of yours truly doth belie
residual sadness easily prompted
can easily trigger me to cry
linkedin when grim reaper gloated
October 7th, 2020
ye did somewhat peacefully die
though methinks immortality
I did briefly espy,

when miracles of modern medicine
tried, but could not
stave off mortality nor fortify
depredations of aging concerning
one wunderkind whose accomplishments
laudatory when a young handsome guy,
whose intelligence scored high
native talent aptitude tests did imply.

The late Boyce Brandon Harris
exhibited prolific talents at young age
aside being scholastically gifted,
acquiring graduate degree
courtesy Columbia University,
freshly minted mechanical engineer
(he admirably ranked within
uppermost percentile academically),
I hashtag thy mine deceased father
(a polymath - jack-of-all-trades),
who possessed (née excelled)
at diverse creative abilities.

Aside from being schooled
as mechanical engineer,
(which courses in mathematics and science
he passed with flying colors)
his mind genetically bequeathed
to craft almost anything under the sun
evidenced first by yours truly,
the second offspring and sole son
who ofttimes felt intimidated
at being in presence
of said Renaissance man.

Handicrafts included
expending blood, sweat, and tears
to craft multitude of projects;
i. building me Flintstone (foot powered)
car with wooden license plate.
ii. making playhouse for all three
of us - his progeny.
iii. amassing wood pile(s),
to stoke wood burning stoves
iv. designing Zayda trail for Teddy and Ruff
(two doggone mixed breed Border Collies
rescued courtesy youngest sister
at her Jacobsburg, Penna work site)
v. constructing sauna in cellar,

vi. etching, detailing (al fresco),
vii. plus trimming living room ceiling,
viii. shingling (while fiddling) on the roof,
ix. tiling the kitchen floor,
x. building a cistern for brethren,
xi. wood paneling many rooms,
xii. building custom made toy chest,
xiii. stringing up lights to increase visibility
driveway lit like Christmas tree after dark,
xiv. partly assembled a kayak,
xv. retooling - enhancing porch
(formerly slate covered),
where Morris dancers performed
at wedding for eldest sister.

Unlike him who did beget me
I experienced cognitive challenges
that beset one painfully shy
and severely introverted male
more to the point
as a lad and mediocre student to boot
promotion to next highest grade
occurred just by the skin of my teeth,
which may help to explain
why I wear dentures,
oh... these choppers worn for about
one eighth of mein kampf livingsocial.

A sense of inadequacy prevailed,
when absolute zero self esteem
strikingly and suddenly manifested
in tandem when parents moved
their young tender family within
Lower Providence School District,
but into a larger house
(initial summer estate constituted
about one hundred acres of woodland -
named Glen Elm
think Winnie the Pooh -
house at Pooh corner -).

Not quite two score plus ten years
spent livingsocial at 324 Level Road
(above mentioned abode alluded),
and twas there majority
mine existential highs and lows,
where nadir of mein kampf transpired,
I emotionally hit rock bottom
upon onset of prepubescence
yet major event triggering
mine major depression
set in motion,
when parents chose February 28th, 1968
to move out of shoddily constructed domicile
located on Lantern Lane.

As shared with Renee Cardone,
(the therapist whose virtual sessions
linkedin courtesy Doxy.me portal -
similar to Zoom),
that aforementioned date
marked a turning point
after which time, I floundered
experiencing irrevocable mental health issues
punctuating my psychological equilibrium
with chronic distress,
though I forgive father and mother,
who unwittingly made decision
how uprooting their offspring
to move without consulting
either yours truly, or older
and younger sibling.

Elysian fields embraced dada's soul
which rocketed into aerospace
(courtesy General Electric satellite)
just a tad more'n six months ago,
nevertheless melancholy
still plucks mine heart strings.

Mine psyche still situated awry
placid countenance of yours truly doth belie
residual sadness easily prompted
can easily trigger me to cry
linkedin when grim reaper gloated
October 7th, 2020
ye did somewhat peacefully die
though methinks immortality
I did briefly espy,

when miracles of modern medicine
tried, but could not
stave off mortality nor fortify
depredations of aging concerning
one wunderkind whose accomplishments
laudatory when a young handsome guy,
whose intelligence scored high
native talent aptitude tests did imply.

The late Boyce Brandon Harris
exhibited prolific talents at young age
aside being scholastically gifted,
acquiring graduate degree
courtesy Columbia University,
freshly minted mechanical engineer
(he admirably ranked within
uppermost percentile academically),
I hashtag thy mine deceased father
(a polymath - jack-of-all-trades),
who possessed (née excelled)
at diverse creative abilities.

Aside from being schooled
as mechanical engineer,
(which courses in mathematics and science
he passed with flying colors)
his mind genetically bequeathed
to craft almost anything under the sun
evidenced first by yours truly,
the second offspring and sole son
who ofttimes felt intimidated
at being in presence
of said Renaissance man.

Handicrafts included
expending blood, sweat, and tears
to craft multitude of projects;
i. building me Flintstone (foot powered)
car with wooden license plate.
ii. making playhouse for all three
of us - his progeny.
iii. amassing wood pile(s),
to stoke wood burning stoves
iv. designing Zayda trail for Teddy and Ruff
(two doggone mixed breed Border Collies
rescued courtesy youngest sister
at her Jacobsburg, Penna work site)
v. constructing sauna in cellar,

vi. etching, detailing (ala fresco),
vii. plus trimming living room ceiling,
viii. shingling (while fiddling) on the roof,
ix. tiling the kitchen floor,
x. building a cistern for brethren,
xi. wood paneling many rooms,
xii. building custom made toy chest,
xiii. stringing up lights to increase visibility
driveway lit like Christmas tree after dark,
xiv. partly assembled a kayak,
xv. retooling - enhancing porch
(formerly slate covered),
where Morris dancers performed
at wedding for eldest sister.

Unlike him who did beget me
I experienced cognitive challenges
that beset one painfully shy
and severely introverted male
more to the point
as a lad and mediocre student to boot
promotion to next highest grade
occurred just by the skin of my teeth,
which may help to explain
why I wear dentures,
oh... these choppers worn for about
one sixth of mein kampf livingsocial.

A sense of inadequacy prevailed,
when absolute zero self esteem
strikingly and suddenly manifested
in tandem when parents moved
their young tender family within
Lower Providence School District,
but into a larger house
(initial summer estate constituted
about one hundred acres of woodland -
named Glen Elm
think Winnie the Pooh -
house at Pooh corner -).

Not quite two score plus ten years
spent livingsocial at 324 Level Road
(above mentioned abode alluded),
and twas there majority
mine existential highs and lows,
where nadir of mein kampf transpired,
I emotionally hit rock bottom
upon onset of prepubescence
yet major event triggering
mine major depression
set in motion,
when parents chose February 28th, 1968
to move out of shoddily constructed domicile
located on Lantern Lane.

As shared with Renee Cardone
(the therapist whose virtual sessions
linkedin courtesy Doxy.me portal -
similar to Zoom),
that aforementioned date
marked a turning point
after which time, I floundered
experiencing irrevocable mental health issues
punctuating my psychological equilibrium
with chronic distress,
though I forgive father and mother
who unwittingly made decision to move.

Elysian fields long since embraced dada's soul
which rocketed into aerospace
(courtesy General Electric satellite)
just a tad more'n eighteen plus months ago,
nevertheless melancholy
still plucks mine heart strings.

Mine psyche still situated awry
placid countenance of yours truly doth belie
residual sadness easily prompted
can easily trigger me to cry
linkedin when grim reaper gloated
October 7th, 2020
ye did somewhat peacefully die
though methinks immortality
I did briefly espy,

when miracles of modern medicine
tried, but could not
stave off mortality nor fortify
depredations of aging concerning
one wunderkind whose accomplishments
laudatory when a young handsome guy,
whose intelligence scored high
native talent aptitude tests did imply.

The late Boyce Brandon Harris
exhibited prolific talents at young age
aside being scholastically gifted,
acquiring graduate degree
courtesy Columbia University,
freshly minted mechanical engineer
(he admirably ranked within
uppermost percentile academically),
I hashtag thy mine deceased father
(a polymath - jack-of-all-trades),
who possessed (née excelled)
at diverse creative abilities.

Aside from being schooled
as mechanical engineer,
(which courses in mathematics and science
he passed with flying colors)
his mind genetically bequeathed
to craft almost anything under the sun
evidenced first by yours truly,
the second offspring and sole son
who ofttimes felt intimidated
at being in presence
of said Renaissance man.

Handicrafts included
expending blood, sweat, and tears
to craft multitude of projects;
i. building me Flintstone (foot powered)
car with wooden license plate.
ii. making playhouse for all three
of us - his progeny.
iii. amassing wood pile(s),
to stoke wood burning stoves
iv. designing Zayda trail for Teddy and Ruff
(two doggone mixed breed Border Collies
rescued courtesy youngest sister
at her Jacobsburg, Penna work site)
v. constructing sauna in cellar,

vi. etching, detailing (ala fresco),
vii. plus trimming living room ceiling,
viii. shingling (while fiddling) on the roof,
ix. tiling the kitchen floor,
x. building a cistern for brethren,
xi. wood paneling many rooms,
xii. building custom made toy chest,
xiii. stringing up lights to increase visibility
driveway lit like Christmas tree after dark,
xiv. partly assembled a kayak,
xv. retooling - enhancing porch
(formerly slate covered),
where Morris dancers performed
at wedding for eldest sister.
xvi. Helping, née completing
homework/school assignments.

Unlike him who did beget me
I experienced cognitive challenges
that beset one painfully shy
and severely introverted male
more to the point
as a lad and mediocre student to boot
promotion to next highest grade
occurred just by the skin of my teeth,
which may help to explain
why I wear dentures,
oh... these choppers worn for about
one sixth of mein kampf livingsocial.

A sense of inadequacy prevailed,
when absolute zero self esteem
strikingly and suddenly manifested
in tandem when parents moved
their young tender family within
Lower Providence School District,
but into a larger house
(initial summer estate constituted
about one hundred acres of woodland -
named Glen Elm
think Winnie the Pooh -
house at Pooh corner -).

Not quite two score plus ten years
spent livingsocial at 324 Level Road
(above mentioned abode alluded),
and twas there majority
mine existential highs and lows,
where nadir of mein kampf transpired,
I emotionally hit rock bottom
upon onset of prepubescence
yet major event triggering
mine major depression
set in motion,
when parents chose February 28th, 1968
to move out of shoddily constructed domicile
located on Lantern Lane.

As shared with Renee Cardone
(the therapist whose virtual sessions
linkedin courtesy Doxy.me portal -
similar to Zoom),
that aforementioned date
marked a turning point
after which time, I floundered
experiencing irrevocable mental health issues
punctuating my psychological equilibrium
with chronic distress,
though I forgive father and mother
who unwittingly made decision to move.

The following words crafted soon after the soul of me daddy set adrift into the empyrean realm joining the rank and file of entities constituting spiritus mundi.

Borne aloft into the netherland
the body bearing thee soul  
of Boyce Brandon Harris
birth name given to my late father
buoyed into the great beyond
united with spirit
of mine late mother Harriet,
whose passing well nigh nineteen
orbitz of the earth around the sun.

Elysian fields embraced dada's soul
which rocketed into aerospace
(courtesy General Electric satellite)
just a tadpole more than three
earth orbitz and a half years ago,
when venerated, loved,
and celebrated then nonagenarian
on par with jumping frog
of calaveras county,  
(whose captor disguised
as toad tilly grim reaper)
went a courtin for fresh corpse,
nevertheless melancholy
still plucks mine heart strings.

Mine psyche still situated awry
placid countenance of yours truly doth belie
residual sadness easily prompted
can easily trigger me to cry
linkedin when grim reaper gloated
October 7th, 2020,
he did somewhat peacefully die
(courtesy congestive heart failure),
though methinks immortality
I did briefly espy,
when miracles of modern medicine
tried, but could not
stave off mortality nor fortify
depredations of aging concerning
one (back during his boyhood)
a wunderkind, whose accomplishments
evinced a lad who pulled out all the stops
laudatory when a young handsome guy,
whose intelligence scored high
native talent aptitude tests did imply,
an august presence
his person, especially birthday celebrated,
lorded over, regaled and touted
like fourth of July
completely unlike yours truly
pitifully jejune existence well nigh.

The late polymath and scientifically astute
Boyce Brandon Harris
exhibited prolific talents at young age
aside being scholastically gifted,
acquiring graduate degree
courtesy Columbia University,
freshly minted mechanical engineer,
(he admirably ranked within
uppermost percentile academically),
I hashtag thy mine deceased father
(a Renaissance man
- jack-of-all-trades),
who possessed (née excelled)
at diverse creative abilities.

Aside from being schooled
as mechanical engineer,
(which courses in mathematics and science
he passed with flying colors)
his mind genetically bequeathed
to craft almost anything under the sun
evidenced first by yours truly,
the second offspring and sole son
who ofttimes felt intimidated
at being in presence
of said versatile person.

Handicrafts included
expending blood, sweat, and tears
coercing, fabricating, invoking
earth, wind, and fire elements of style
to craft multitude of projects;
i. building me Flintstone (foot powered)
car with wooden license plate

ii. making playhouse for all three
of us - his progeny;
iii. amassing wood pile(s)
to stoke wood burning stoves;
iv. designing Zayda trail
for Teddy and Ruff
(two doggone mixed breed Border Collies

rescued courtesy youngest sister
at her Jacobsburg,
Pennsylvania work site);
v. constructing sauna in cellar;
vi. etching, detailing (al fresco);
vii. plus trimming living room ceiling
with dainty crown moulding;

viii. shingling (while fiddling) on the roof;
ix. tiling the kitchen floor;
x. building a cistern for brethren,
xi. wood paneling many rooms;
xii. building custom made toy chest;
xiii. stringing up lights to increase visibility
driveway lit like Christmas tree after dark;

xiv. partly assembled a kayak;
xv. Rehabilitated derelict houses
in Norristown, Pennsylvania
xvi. retooling - enhancing porch
with tiles (formerly slate covered),
where Morris dancers performed
at wedding for eldest sister.

Unlike him who did beget me,
I experienced cognitive challenges
that beset one painfully shy
and severely introverted male
more to the point
as a lad and mediocre student to boot
promotion to next highest grade
occurred just by the skin of my teeth
and analogously, figuratively, and poetically
nearly shaved née scalped,
butchered of me pilgrim's pride

thankfully peach fuzz bewhiskered
fine hairs of my chinny chin chin,  
staved off retention
never forcing me to repeat a grade,
which may help to explain
why I wear dentures,
oh... these choppers
then worn for about
one eighth of mein kampf livingsocial.

A sense of inadequacy prevailed,
when absolute zero self esteem
strikingly and suddenly manifested
in tandem when parents moved
their young tender family within
Lower Providence School District,
but into a vaunted larger house
(initial summer estate constituted
about one hundred acres of woodland -
named Glen Elm
think Winnie the Pooh -
house at Pooh corner).

Not quite two score plus ten years
spent livingsocial at 324 Level Road
(above mentioned abode alluded),
and twas there majority
mine existential highs and lows,
where nadir of mein kampf transpired,
I emotionally hit rock bottom
upon onset of prepubescence
yet major event triggering
mine major depression
set in motion,
when parents chose February 28th, 1968
to move out of shoddily constructed domicile
located on Lantern Lane.

As shared with Renee Cardone,
(the therapist whose virtual sessions
linkedin courtesy Doxy.me portal -
similar to Zoom),
that aforementioned date
marked a turning point
after which time, I floundered
experienced irrevocable mental health issues
punctuating my psychological equilibrium
with chronic distress,
though I forgive father and mother,
who unwittingly made decision
how uprooting their offspring
to move without consulting
either yours truly, or older
and younger sisterly sibling.

rebated, rebelled, rebirthed, rebooted,
and rebuked courtesy
one ill shod Unitarian atheist,
who means NOT to affect
any sacrilegious fallout
nor offend devoutly religious
man, woman, or child,
when the most important
Christian holiday notated,
a veritable “movable feast”
occurs Sunday, March 31, 2024.

Though avast percentage
of stonehenge temple piloted ghosts,
harking back millennia
constantly zip unseen thru aerospace,
easily being mistaken for led zeppelin,
they unwittingly espy
woolly sheep hush fleeced herd
profoundly religious village peep pull
plodding fast as their
cleft hoofs take them
along well worn path
of former crusaders
analogous to Riders on the Storm.

Among acquiescent, concupiscent
fervescent, juvenescent
obmutescent (äbmyəˈtesᵊn(t)s),
and unreminiscent church going subjects
versus one self repentant
quest diagnostic shunning skeptic poet
suffers interminable emotional flagellation
employing righteous indignation
against his own iniquitous misdeeds
sullying the sacrosanct marital covenant.

Unpardonable egregious transgressions
committed (well nigh
***** deeds done dirt cheap
more'n a dozen orbitz ago)
think adulterous flagrante delicto
constituted consummating rutting
sabotaging high fidelity.

Passionate ******* incorporating
communicating non verbal
vernacular animal needs
spoken on behalf of laity
comprising unlearned, nevertheless
superstitious population
indulged verboten fruit appetite,
yet adroit oral (tongue in cheek)
spread courtesy word of mouth.

Unlike doubting thomas here
sitting on his rumpled stilted skin
most pious markedly take as gospel
Jesus Christ as Superstar
every word in religious tomes
their collective soul asylum polestar,
and doth decree important doctrines
with especial accord courtesy the cars
equal insignificance applied toward
Judeo-Christian holidays
across the chessboard of life,

thus Easter ranks as no exception
to the golden rule,
where Santa Claus
didst dodge Duesenberg
reached an accord
following auspicious signs
alit in the night sky
shaped like a drinking gourd
perhaps amassing plentiful harvests
upon hamlets strewn
across then ******* populated Earth

asper cornucopia exhibited secret hoard
sharing plentiful Horn
(and Hard art lesson learned)
to stave off barrenness, ignored
going forward seeding nascent
March Madness with
swift help from Lord
and Taylor as midwife hoot
tended Ville Nova moored
by striking Wildcat fanatics,
who unbelievably

espied heavens cleft asunder
and golden rays poured
while collective spectators
loudly deafeningly screamed
while housed within the soundgarden
analogous to ferocious stray cats,
who hissed and roared
witnessed history scored
earning players knighted
with Excalibur sword,
thence entire team handed

Taj Mahal shaped award,
which aforementioned
*** hide lacks moxie, cuz zit
happens tubby April Fool's joke,
thus above iterated
verses somehow needs
just a little bit of relevance to yoke
thine admitted ambivalent
reaction to sports,
yea aye pay figurative ****
hen to Rabbinic, quixotic

iconic, Hebraic, generic,
fanatic, ecstatic primal
tribal village people
wu clan destine woke,
and swinging focus of this poem
back toward Religious
perp ported berth,
when (sans antiquity)
donjon we now donning
gay apparel trumpet signaled
thus, any superstitions

blew away dearth
when distant shofar heard
in every home and hearth
anticipating rabbit arrival
of the Easter Bunny,
who brings eggs sited mirth
and hoi polloi doth hop poly
distribute sweet treats,
which blessed children
of the korn as grown adults,
no matter necessity

for teeth to be removed
the sugary over indulgence wool worth
today thee American Dental Association
chastises candy manufacturers
bandying more weight
gaining deadly, debauched,
and decadent, trait
then adultery - verboten fruit to sate
hash-tagged (vamoose skat
dad dulled) reprobate.

Professed paean pronounced
and adroitly produced
upon spirit of deceased
named Boyce Brandon Harris.

First year anniversary since
cremains distributed across four winds
his soul remains alive within me.

Impressed upon mine consciousness
birthdate announcing home birth
April 9th 1929, my father
gasped his first breath of air
head populated with black curly locks,
when he uttered that initial blare,
nor preschool instructors extant
to teach him building blocks
inherent in double helix strand,
paternal grandfather (mine)
designed many a fancy chair
passed along blueprint
pertaining to curious lad
forever challenging himself to dare.

Though me dada gone with the wind
well nigh three hundred sixty five days
impossible mission to forget being pinned
with profound grief now sorrowful phase
diminished, nevertheless vague upbringing
regarding late father roughly limned
especially recalling dada's mien ways.

Him biological circumstance found
being youngest of three offspring
and second ably linkedin heir
whose inquisitiveness found him
roaming (courtesy donning roller skates)
Manhattan island far and near
plus or minus penchant
with science and mathematics
intelligent quotient in stratosphere
those mental cogs, wheels and gear
found those piercing black eyes to peer
way beyond New York City skyline.

Demise of him who helped beget me
softened harsh rebukes figuratively rained
upon noggin of yours truly
sole son wishes father understood
my psychological maelstrom
flush with monsters under boyhood bed,
and voices inside traumatized head.

Latent smarts did create career
path, which whipsawed him
thru multitudinous exotic places he did dare
to traverse – from Korean front
to General Electric where
he secured employment
as mechanical engineer
within aerospace, industry

completed my academic projects with flair,
who essentially earned me passing grade
just by the chin whisker hair
and by physical might,
I wished he served as bodyguard
when kids did jeer
me quiet skinny boy, who felt intimidated
when bullies spewed names with a leer.