"boyce" poems - Hello Poetry

She wears t-shirts of the Beatles And she loves the Rolling Stones She wakes up to David Bowie And she dreams of the Ramones She goes out to dance clubs nightly Till her ear drums both get blown But, she has a deep dark secret That her friends will never know At night when she is by herself When the room is nice and dark She slips beneath the covers With Johann Sebastian Bach She's a closet classic ****** And her name is Amber Clark She just loves orchestral music The rock and roll is just a lark Her friends think something classical Is something for your folks They cannot play an instrument They cannot read the notes They think that chamber music is What people play on boats But she has a deep dark secret She loves the stuff that Chopin wrote At night when she is by herself And her friends have gotten ****** She slips beneath the covers And she listens to some Liszt She listens to it many times In case there's things she's missed She's a closet classic ****** She has "Baroque" upon her wrist She listens to the music That her friends like to be cool If she told them what she listens to They'd laugh her out of school So, when they go out clubbing She will join them as a rule But...ah that deep dark secret This girl is no ones fool She listens to Beethoven And she knows each piece by heart She knows where one bar ends And another one will start She can play most every instrument And she knows most every part She's a classic closet ****** But she still knows Boyce and Hart She has cds in her library And most sit there untouched When her friends are gone they don't get played She doesn't like them much She would rather hear a symphony By a composter who was Dutch But there's that deep dark secret And she won't use it a crutch At night when she is warm in bed She listens to Mozart She needs a little Nacht Musique To open up her heart It's a piece that sets her mind a blaze It hits her like a dart She's a closet classic ****** And she keeps her worlds apart By day she sings Bruce Springsteen At night she listens to Composers that her friends don't know They're so old they're new So she keeps her world a secret For she knows what they would do If they found she didn't know Where were you in sixty two But at night she is a ****** And she listens to Mozart She needs that piece of music To shoot an arrow through her heart Eine Kleine Nachmusic She conducts every part She's our Closet Classic ****** shhh.....the song's about to start...

0

May 4, 2012

May 4, 2012 at 11:35 AM UTC

roger-turner

Closet Classic ****** - (The Street - poem 4)

She wears t-shirts of the Beatles And she loves the Rolling Stones She wakes up to David Bowie And she dreams of the Ramones She goes out to dance clubs nightly Till her ear drums both get blown But, she has a deep dark secret That her friends will never know At night when she is by herself When the room is nice and dark She slips beneath the covers With Johann Sebastian Bach She's a closet classic ****** And her name is Amber Clark She just loves orchestral music The rock and roll is just a lark Her friends think something classical Is something for your folks They cannot play an instrument They cannot read the notes They think that chamber music is What people play on boats But she has a deep dark secret She loves the stuff that Chopin wrote At night when she is by herself And her friends have gotten ****** She slips beneath the covers And she listens to some Liszt She listens to it many times In case there's things she's missed She's a closet classic ****** She has "Baroque" upon her wrist She listens to the music That her friends like to be cool If she told them what she listens to They'd laugh her out of school So, when they go out clubbing She will join them as a rule But...ah that deep dark secret This girl is no ones fool She listens to Beethoven And she knows each piece by heart She knows where one bar ends And another one will start She can play most every instrument And she knows most every part She's a classic closet ****** But she still knows Boyce and Hart She has cds in her library And most sit there untouched When her friends are gone they don't get played She doesn't like them much She would rather hear a symphony By a composter who was Dutch But there's that deep dark secret And she won't use it a crutch At night when she is warm in bed She listens to Mozart She needs a little Nacht Musique To open up her heart It's a piece that sets her mind a blaze It hits her like a dart She's a closet classic ****** And she keeps her worlds apart By day she sings Bruce Springsteen At night she listens to Composers that her friends don't know They're so old they're new So she keeps her world a secret For she knows what they would do If they found she didn't know Where were you in sixty two But at night she is a ****** And she listens to Mozart She needs that piece of music To shoot an arrow through her heart Eine Kleine Nachmusic She conducts every part She's our Closet Classic ****** shhh.....the song's about to start...

80

amidst cavorting delightfully, enjoying thorough frolicking gingerly, foreign hick hating slo hip-hopping insouciantly sustaining row biological status quo kvetching lamely moreso mother became pro naturally physically rumbling, heard all the way in Oslo supposedly twerking, undulating vivaciously wantonly x2c wisely yielded – nada no zona pellucida anchored byte size ****** potent embryonic fetal moe newlweds nocturnal merriment moma's ****** marked march 1959 lovingly joyusly, insemination happened ha low bullseye clenched diploid fertilization guaranteed germinating heiress while squaqking lichen Apache at Diablo ma late mother did should know upon awakening upon tautly stretched exertion during dilating ****** which jiggled like jello three score orbitz round el sol, warmed cockles and muscled away brutally cold degrees tab billed an igloo, or circa six decades drafted exuberant ho...ho...ho... cuz, i.e. thencee at 362nd day baby in belly did fully grow December first nineteen fifty seven sanctioned newly minted papa to sing a capella for he's a jolly good fellow quintessential nascent kickstarter heady everflow though wintry dark, a “hi” beam illuminated newborn girl with dayglow sans, mechanical engine ear papa (an honorably discharged army vet) all spit and shine groom, who wed a bride somewhat callow first time parents with giddiness did saul fully bellow Boyce and Harriet Harriet countenance twas (like an elf on Christmas eve) all aglow. -------------------------------------------------------- Dear Sis – I knew not what else to do thus, this poem crafted fur ewe a doe ting maternal gal – whose time on Earth flew

0

Nov 10, 2017

Nov 10, 2017 at 1:09 AM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

Patterson, New Jersey circa December 1st, 1959

amidst cavorting delightfully, enjoying thorough frolicking gingerly, foreign hick hating slo hip-hopping insouciantly sustaining row biological status quo kvetching lamely moreso mother became pro naturally physically rumbling, heard all the way in Oslo supposedly twerking, undulating vivaciously wantonly x2c wisely yielded – nada no zona pellucida anchored byte size ****** potent embryonic fetal moe newlweds nocturnal merriment moma's ****** marked march 1959 lovingly joyusly, insemination happened ha low bullseye clenched diploid fertilization guaranteed germinating heiress while squaqking lichen Apache at Diablo ma late mother did should know upon awakening upon tautly stretched exertion during dilating ****** which jiggled like jello three score orbitz round el sol, warmed cockles and muscled away brutally cold degrees tab billed an igloo, or circa six decades drafted exuberant ho...ho...ho... cuz, i.e. thencee at 362nd day baby in belly did fully grow December first nineteen fifty seven sanctioned newly minted papa to sing a capella for he's a jolly good fellow quintessential nascent kickstarter heady everflow though wintry dark, a “hi” beam illuminated newborn girl with dayglow sans, mechanical engine ear papa (an honorably discharged army vet) all spit and shine groom, who wed a bride somewhat callow first time parents with giddiness did saul fully bellow Boyce and Harriet Harriet countenance twas (like an elf on Christmas eve) all aglow. -------------------------------------------------------- Dear Sis – I knew not what else to do thus, this poem crafted fur ewe a doe ting maternal gal – whose time on Earth flew

46

Matthew Scott Harris (the second offspring and only son of Boyce and the late harriet harris) made his unheralded debut on a brutally cold January thirteenth. Once awareness blossomed within thee Iris of each eye, Mother Nature with proclivity to become most grounded when basking in the seasonal pastel of sounds and smells. This predilection a rose and stemmed from self-propelled exposure to fauna and flora. All creatures great and small found him bedazzled, de lighted, fixated, harmonized, kindled, moored, ogled, quelled, seduced, tantalized, vaunted from biodiversity. His father - employed as a mechanical engineer with general electric - heard the powerful lungs of this gangly new born prior to being permitted to cradle said infant. Born in Cincinnati, Ohio, this sole son spent the majority of his existence at two rural areas fifty plus four years ago. Audubon and Collegeville the geographic names of said locales. His ability to adjust from one than another grade school evinced early signs of difficulty. Extreme shyness in tandem with a congenital speech defect (sub mucous cleft palate) seemed to alienate him from other classmates. As an outside neutral observer, i watched with gut wrenching agony how he seemed socially detached and rarely invited to join in any reindeer games. Yes, a gross degree of taunting left him without friends. Lack of confidence and ultra reticence offered manna to bullies. Matter of fact, this vulnerability and susceptibility being the pluperfect target, thee oafish goons i.e. enemies all against a once upon a time puny punt able person unfortunately at receiving end of verbal slings continued all thru public education. He graduated without any vocational idea (despite an ignoble attempt to fail - and yet got promoted nonetheless), and then endured parental wrath equal ultimatums with scathing expletive filled lectures. The absence of clear-cut goals found him enrolling and withdrawing from countless colleges and/or universities. Delay with interpersonal success accompanied like a dark shadow creeping closer like the edge of night.

0

Feb 1, 2018

Feb 1, 2018 at 11:46 PM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

BRIEF BIOGRAPHY OF MATTHEW SCOTT HARRIS:

Matthew Scott Harris (the second offspring and only son of Boyce and the late harriet harris) made his unheralded debut on a brutally cold January thirteenth. Once awareness blossomed within thee Iris of each eye, Mother Nature with proclivity to become most grounded when basking in the seasonal pastel of sounds and smells. This predilection a rose and stemmed from self-propelled exposure to fauna and flora. All creatures great and small found him bedazzled, de lighted, fixated, harmonized, kindled, moored, ogled, quelled, seduced, tantalized, vaunted from biodiversity. His father - employed as a mechanical engineer with general electric - heard the powerful lungs of this gangly new born prior to being permitted to cradle said infant. Born in Cincinnati, Ohio, this sole son spent the majority of his existence at two rural areas fifty plus four years ago. Audubon and Collegeville the geographic names of said locales. His ability to adjust from one than another grade school evinced early signs of difficulty. Extreme shyness in tandem with a congenital speech defect (sub mucous cleft palate) seemed to alienate him from other classmates. As an outside neutral observer, i watched with gut wrenching agony how he seemed socially detached and rarely invited to join in any reindeer games. Yes, a gross degree of taunting left him without friends. Lack of confidence and ultra reticence offered manna to bullies. Matter of fact, this vulnerability and susceptibility being the pluperfect target, thee oafish goons i.e. enemies all against a once upon a time puny punt able person unfortunately at receiving end of verbal slings continued all thru public education. He graduated without any vocational idea (despite an ignoble attempt to fail - and yet got promoted nonetheless), and then endured parental wrath equal ultimatums with scathing expletive filled lectures. The absence of clear-cut goals found him enrolling and withdrawing from countless colleges and/or universities. Delay with interpersonal success accompanied like a dark shadow creeping closer like the edge of night.

35

February 28th, 1968 marked the date Boyce Brandon Harris (my octogenarian widower father) purchased a small tract of land constituting shadowed sliver once hailing, hallmarking, harkening, glorious vast "Glen Elm" estate, which circa 1910 encompassed a hundred plus acres of woodland Pooh would Winnie (including a pond frequented by migrating Canadian Geese) eventually zoned for commercial, industrial, and residential development (all in the name of productive land use) particularly put into motion courtesy Donald J. Neilson, who transformed expansive woodland rivaling shutterfly sprouting like mushrooms towed stools booming explosively after ample precipitation little houses on the hillside little houses made of ticky tacky... popped up overnight transforming landscape displacing flora and fauna with vinyl city (minus spit of property papa bought) manicured bumped uglies with wild wisp reduced pristine niche leftover jot haven squawking disoriented geese instincts thwarted, where drained wetlands a Arcadian past suburbanization overlaying (palimpsest like) rural setting trademark bucolic print Currier And Ives stock in trade signature prints landscape sparse human population country aire sprinkled with family farms fresh dairy, produce, vegetables butchered animals free ranging without synthetic injections nostalgia faintly recreated here Highland Manor Apartments Schwenksville, Pennsylvania a slip of country revered against a Paul Ling urbanization nothing appears familiar retracing roadways now major highways frequent moments breeds alienation familiar ground confusing, frightening, and perplexing.

0

May 17, 2018

May 17, 2018 at 8:57 PM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

Eutrophication Of Golden Pond

February 28th, 1968 marked the date Boyce Brandon Harris (my octogenarian widower father) purchased a small tract of land constituting shadowed sliver once hailing, hallmarking, harkening, glorious vast "Glen Elm" estate, which circa 1910 encompassed a hundred plus acres of woodland Pooh would Winnie (including a pond frequented by migrating Canadian Geese) eventually zoned for commercial, industrial, and residential development (all in the name of productive land use) particularly put into motion courtesy Donald J. Neilson, who transformed expansive woodland rivaling shutterfly sprouting like mushrooms towed stools booming explosively after ample precipitation little houses on the hillside little houses made of ticky tacky... popped up overnight transforming landscape displacing flora and fauna with vinyl city (minus spit of property papa bought) manicured bumped uglies with wild wisp reduced pristine niche leftover jot haven squawking disoriented geese instincts thwarted, where drained wetlands a Arcadian past suburbanization overlaying (palimpsest like) rural setting trademark bucolic print Currier And Ives stock in trade signature prints landscape sparse human population country aire sprinkled with family farms fresh dairy, produce, vegetables butchered animals free ranging without synthetic injections nostalgia faintly recreated here Highland Manor Apartments Schwenksville, Pennsylvania a slip of country revered against a Paul Ling urbanization nothing appears familiar retracing roadways now major highways frequent moments breeds alienation familiar ground confusing, frightening, and perplexing.

53

Matthew Scott Harris (the second offspring and only son of Boyce and the late Harriet Harris) made his unheralded debut on a brutally cold January thirteenth almost three score years ago. His father - employed as a mechanical engineer with general electric heard the powerful lungs of this gangly newborn prior to being permitted to cradle said infant. Born in Cincinnati, Ohio, this sole son spent the majority of his fifty plus LIX existence within southeastern Montgomery County Pennsylvania. Extreme shyness in tandem with a congenital speech defect (submucous cleft palate) seemed to alienate him from other class mates. As an outside neutral observer, I watched with gut when ching agony how he seemed socially detached and rarely invited to join in any reindeer games, rather mean kids balled their fists and swung faux pas sucker punches to sleigh **** shay - so they did say. Yes, a gross degree of taunting left him without friends. Lack of confidence and ultra reticence offered hue manna tee to bullies. Matter of fact, this vulnerability, and susceptibility per receiving verbal slings continued thru public education. He graduated without any vocational idea (despite an ignoble attempt to fail - and yet got promoted nonetheless), and then endured parental wrath equal ultimatums with a scathing expletive filled lectures. The absence of clear-cut goals found him enrolling and with drawing from countless colleges and/or universities. Delay with interpersonal success accompanied like a dark shadow creeping closer to the edge of night.

0

Feb 14, 2018

Feb 14, 2018 at 4:00 PM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

BRIEF BIOGRAPHY OF MATTHEW SCOTT HARRIS:

Matthew Scott Harris (the second offspring and only son of Boyce and the late Harriet Harris) made his unheralded debut on a brutally cold January thirteenth almost three score years ago. His father - employed as a mechanical engineer with general electric heard the powerful lungs of this gangly newborn prior to being permitted to cradle said infant. Born in Cincinnati, Ohio, this sole son spent the majority of his fifty plus LIX existence within southeastern Montgomery County Pennsylvania. Extreme shyness in tandem with a congenital speech defect (submucous cleft palate) seemed to alienate him from other class mates. As an outside neutral observer, I watched with gut when ching agony how he seemed socially detached and rarely invited to join in any reindeer games, rather mean kids balled their fists and swung faux pas sucker punches to sleigh **** shay - so they did say. Yes, a gross degree of taunting left him without friends. Lack of confidence and ultra reticence offered hue manna tee to bullies. Matter of fact, this vulnerability, and susceptibility per receiving verbal slings continued thru public education. He graduated without any vocational idea (despite an ignoble attempt to fail - and yet got promoted nonetheless), and then endured parental wrath equal ultimatums with a scathing expletive filled lectures. The absence of clear-cut goals found him enrolling and with drawing from countless colleges and/or universities. Delay with interpersonal success accompanied like a dark shadow creeping closer to the edge of night.

30

She's a bit of all right that friend of yours Brian says that Una Nuala puts the dinner on the table and sits in her place she's a good friend Nuala says peppering her dinner been friends for years but not seen her until recently Brian says forking his dinner odd that her being an old school friend and all she's been away Nuala says where away? Brian says she's been to London now she's come back to Dublin Nuala replies don't recall her at school I'm sure I'd remember her with a behind like hers he says people change in looks Nuala says Betty Boyce hasn't she's still as fecking ugly as she was back then Brian says smiling Nuala eats her dinner tries to push thoughts of him and his words away imagines his face had he come in and found Una and her having it away on their bed and the look on his face if they had and he'd seen it mind you Betty was a good lay Brian says Nuala looks at him how'd do know? the boys said Brian says looking at Nuala blushing looking away recalling the Boyce girl and him having *** in her parents' house while they were away for the weekend can't believe talk Nuala says gets distorted by too many tongues Brian eats and thinks Nuala muses on his ****** features and his words Una may have to stay here awhile she says she may lose her digs Brian looks at her stay here? with us? be a bit crowded in our bed will it not? he smiles in the spare room bed you idjit she says he pulls face and Nuala finds it rather pleasing Una being there especially if Brian was away and while the cat's away the mice could play.

0

Mar 31, 2016

Mar 31, 2016 at 1:46 AM UTC

TerryCollett

MICE COULD PLAY 1997.

She's a bit of all right that friend of yours Brian says that Una Nuala puts the dinner on the table and sits in her place she's a good friend Nuala says peppering her dinner been friends for years but not seen her until recently Brian says forking his dinner odd that her being an old school friend and all she's been away Nuala says where away? Brian says she's been to London now she's come back to Dublin Nuala replies don't recall her at school I'm sure I'd remember her with a behind like hers he says people change in looks Nuala says Betty Boyce hasn't she's still as fecking ugly as she was back then Brian says smiling Nuala eats her dinner tries to push thoughts of him and his words away imagines his face had he come in and found Una and her having it away on their bed and the look on his face if they had and he'd seen it mind you Betty was a good lay Brian says Nuala looks at him how'd do know? the boys said Brian says looking at Nuala blushing looking away recalling the Boyce girl and him having *** in her parents' house while they were away for the weekend can't believe talk Nuala says gets distorted by too many tongues Brian eats and thinks Nuala muses on his ****** features and his words Una may have to stay here awhile she says she may lose her digs Brian looks at her stay here? with us? be a bit crowded in our bed will it not? he smiles in the spare room bed you idjit she says he pulls face and Nuala finds it rather pleasing Una being there especially if Brian was away and while the cat's away the mice could play.

90

(alternately titled: Zayda born April 9th, 1929) e'er since his birth, his daring do didst not abate the penultimate most spectacular concrete incontestable product constituting biological offspring developing, fashioning, and incubating gene nee us, he unwittingly didst create encoded whence he got conceived approximately begat circa July nineteen twenty eight, and hence upon April ninth two thousand and eighteen cometh denoting exceptional great ness among kith and kin innate awareness to take stock and celebrate, how a series of fortunate events commencing with a date to Harriet Kuritsky (at that time, yet to pledge her troth) accepting storied handsome fellow, whose constitution sturdy as "forest" timber (definition of groom) to be lawfully wedded wife... until death do them part) unwittingly marriage didst emancipate my mother, who met a awful, cruel and terminal undeserving fate, which tortured demise, the grim reaper gladly, gleefully, and glibly held her steadfast thru death decreed grate a permanent life sentence, she vehemently did hate and fiercely fought tooth and nail (unimaginable to me, thee sole son), how agonizingly bitterly clearly irate such suffering wrenched, wrought, wrung August marriage permanently cleft by malicious, nefarious, and opprobrious tongue no heroic measures, only lamentation slung upon the livingsocial clinging, where grief rung every last ounce, though thru each passing year thy mum gone thirteen orbitz round the sun, that shear ring raw emotion still persists in concert with lear ring grimace of deathly hallows, 'ere obstinate heart ache lessened now since papa found bliss in which to steer the prow of his four score and nine aged ship of state row wing (or more or less peacefully drifting) berthed in consonant with vow wills - a staunch spirit does wow!

0

Mar 31, 2018

Mar 31, 2018 at 4:37 PM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

Boyce Brandon Harris - Bright Brooklyn Bruiser

(alternately titled: Zayda born April 9th, 1929) e'er since his birth, his daring do didst not abate the penultimate most spectacular concrete incontestable product constituting biological offspring developing, fashioning, and incubating gene nee us, he unwittingly didst create encoded whence he got conceived approximately begat circa July nineteen twenty eight, and hence upon April ninth two thousand and eighteen cometh denoting exceptional great ness among kith and kin innate awareness to take stock and celebrate, how a series of fortunate events commencing with a date to Harriet Kuritsky (at that time, yet to pledge her troth) accepting storied handsome fellow, whose constitution sturdy as "forest" timber (definition of groom) to be lawfully wedded wife... until death do them part) unwittingly marriage didst emancipate my mother, who met a awful, cruel and terminal undeserving fate, which tortured demise, the grim reaper gladly, gleefully, and glibly held her steadfast thru death decreed grate a permanent life sentence, she vehemently did hate and fiercely fought tooth and nail (unimaginable to me, thee sole son), how agonizingly bitterly clearly irate such suffering wrenched, wrought, wrung August marriage permanently cleft by malicious, nefarious, and opprobrious tongue no heroic measures, only lamentation slung upon the livingsocial clinging, where grief rung every last ounce, though thru each passing year thy mum gone thirteen orbitz round the sun, that shear ring raw emotion still persists in concert with lear ring grimace of deathly hallows, 'ere obstinate heart ache lessened now since papa found bliss in which to steer the prow of his four score and nine aged ship of state row wing (or more or less peacefully drifting) berthed in consonant with vow wills - a staunch spirit does wow!

61

Tonight I rest my head on his shoulder For the last time we will have witnessed the play that began it all Sinta it's been five years My tears fall as I clutch his chest He continues to look at the road I try to hold onto that scent his wonderful scent he tries to hold back his tears and it's been five years Boyce Avenue's cover of Teenage Dream is playing and yes, he is my teenage dream now I am 20, and he 21 we must part we must grow apart and find another dream

0

Feb 15, 2015

Feb 15, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC

ishka

It's been 5 years

Tonight I rest my head on his shoulder For the last time we will have witnessed the play that began it all Sinta it's been five years My tears fall as I clutch his chest He continues to look at the road I try to hold onto that scent his wonderful scent he tries to hold back his tears and it's been five years Boyce Avenue's cover of Teenage Dream is playing and yes, he is my teenage dream now I am 20, and he 21 we must part we must grow apart and find another dream

16

Your infectious smile Your courageous laugh Impractical joker Immensely talented Joy to the world Happy as can be Can’t believe you taken from me Light up the room Even in times of sadness Leaving a hole in our hearts A pain in our chest As now we say goodbye Laying you to rest Taken too soon Ripped from our lives Such a talent, a sparkle in your eyes No words can fill this void We carry the memories and hold this lasting Polaroid Like a tattoo on our hearts Even though we are apart We will remember you Like a piece of fine art Though we must parts ways for now We send our love and hugs as you take your final bow For one day we will meet again When you wait for and greet us at the bridges bend...

0

Jul 10, 2019

Jul 10, 2019 at 7:15 AM UTC

ashly-kocher

Cameron Boyce

Your infectious smile Your courageous laugh Impractical joker Immensely talented Joy to the world Happy as can be Can’t believe you taken from me Light up the room Even in times of sadness Leaving a hole in our hearts A pain in our chest As now we say goodbye Laying you to rest Taken too soon Ripped from our lives Such a talent, a sparkle in your eyes No words can fill this void We carry the memories and hold this lasting Polaroid Like a tattoo on our hearts Even though we are apart We will remember you Like a piece of fine art Though we must parts ways for now We send our love and hugs as you take your final bow For one day we will meet again When you wait for and greet us at the bridges bend...

26

If royalty moost likely spotlight ye would dodge nonetheless anointed, deemed, granted... within humble abode of your lodge most righteous, magnanimous, gracious... among confrère noblesse oblige. Methinks twas foolhardy of me when joost a mere young man (more'n half agoo me lifespan) ye always acknowledging me birthdate, (although tomorrow a day early, and dollar long) regarding thirteenth of Jan. Your sisterly affection doth buoy inside mine heart and soul first born of three offspring begat courtesy Boyce and Harriet Harris handed lead role par exemplar to officiate (figuratively) filial obeisance, particularly when older analogous to foal abiding maternal horse sense, thus I extol. As your brother, rhetorical question I ask how often did thee deserve to bask within metaphorical sunshine to exceed regarding care and concern emotional task tenderly "mothering" kith and kin, ye divinely didst shew, especially yours truly now he dost rue he rarely did communicate - hermetically within his hermetically sealed queue detached, isolated, outsourced, I may as well lived in Peru (think Machu Picchu) courtesy schizoid personality disorder leavened, prepared, and sprinkled with obsessive compulsiveness for good measure ooh and aah barely registered consciousness, and knew not what blessedness constituted hew as tremendous precious jewel few chore birthdays promise with clear clue how ye go above and beyond call of sisterly duty aware remaining life (mine) would be far inadequate to accrue equitable devotional, emotional, and financial recompense. Hence feeble attempt to distill some essence with words that appear incomprehensible and dense, cuz writing more comfortable verses talking, which often jabbering (more like a wookie) (think fictional hirsute humanoids in Star Wars universe) often makes no cents. Tempus fugit fleets at light speed quasi immortality conferred as generations rebreed all the while unwittingly transmitting indeed idiosyncrasies, mutations, quarks... such as greed myopia, selfishness... at death sorrow doth bleed.

0

Jan 11, 2020

Jan 11, 2020 at 11:54 PM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

Dearest Amelie Beth Harris-Mcgeehan

If royalty moost likely spotlight ye would dodge nonetheless anointed, deemed, granted... within humble abode of your lodge most righteous, magnanimous, gracious... among confrère noblesse oblige. Methinks twas foolhardy of me when joost a mere young man (more'n half agoo me lifespan) ye always acknowledging me birthdate, (although tomorrow a day early, and dollar long) regarding thirteenth of Jan. Your sisterly affection doth buoy inside mine heart and soul first born of three offspring begat courtesy Boyce and Harriet Harris handed lead role par exemplar to officiate (figuratively) filial obeisance, particularly when older analogous to foal abiding maternal horse sense, thus I extol. As your brother, rhetorical question I ask how often did thee deserve to bask within metaphorical sunshine to exceed regarding care and concern emotional task tenderly "mothering" kith and kin, ye divinely didst shew, especially yours truly now he dost rue he rarely did communicate - hermetically within his hermetically sealed queue detached, isolated, outsourced, I may as well lived in Peru (think Machu Picchu) courtesy schizoid personality disorder leavened, prepared, and sprinkled with obsessive compulsiveness for good measure ooh and aah barely registered consciousness, and knew not what blessedness constituted hew as tremendous precious jewel few chore birthdays promise with clear clue how ye go above and beyond call of sisterly duty aware remaining life (mine) would be far inadequate to accrue equitable devotional, emotional, and financial recompense. Hence feeble attempt to distill some essence with words that appear incomprehensible and dense, cuz writing more comfortable verses talking, which often jabbering (more like a wookie) (think fictional hirsute humanoids in Star Wars universe) often makes no cents. Tempus fugit fleets at light speed quasi immortality conferred as generations rebreed all the while unwittingly transmitting indeed idiosyncrasies, mutations, quarks... such as greed myopia, selfishness... at death sorrow doth bleed.

66