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Correctly he is John the Baptizer,
His birth was delayed up to late,
Late post menopausal age of his mother,
Elisabeth the wife of Zachariah the priest,
At the temple of the Jews in Palestine
During the regal time of Rome
As a world empire and a role model of tyranny,

Imagine conceiving after menopause,
During the nonagenarian ages
Of all the ages, in the nineties?
But she conceived John,
Was it true or mere sensationalism?
Or mere nerve chilling art style?
To hold the world audience a hostage?
I don’t know but  John was born
After his mother’s menopause,

He contrasts with Jesus
Born by a ****** Mary,
Imagine a Jewish ******
Without ****** *******
Became pregnant,
And gave birth to Jesus,
When Mary was pregnant
She socially visited Elisabeth
John’s fetus somersaulted,
Like a Chinese acrobat
Inside his mother’s tummy,
It was his baptism before birth,
But may be pregnancy of a ******
Has more strength than pregnancy
Of a post menopause octogenarian,

Hence the famous ode by Catholics;
In the name of Hail Mary
The mother of God
Most blessed above all women,

These post menopause pregnance
And ******‘s pregnancy without ***
Contrasts with Adam’s creation from clay
And Eve’s creation from Adam’s left rib,
Another super-sensational literature,
Or pataphorical art; Magical surrealism?

Let me not go dumb or mute
Like Zachariah when he believed not,
But no, I already believed ergo, my vocality,

Now why did John refuse to put on clothes?
Only to put on a skin of a goat,
Or was it a monkey Clobus,
The one which we in Africa
We are forced to ****
Before your father permits you
To face the circumcision knife,
John again refused to eat cooked foods,
He survived on raw honey and locusts,
Nuts, roots and raw fruits, dietician?

Or it was self denial or self immolation?
Like the one often displayed
by the Islamic statesmen aka terrorists
When committing suicide bombing?
No it began with the Japanese Kamikaze,
In preparation to bomb Pearl Habour,
I don’t know at all at all,

Now what of the howling in the wilderness,
Calling for people to baptism in water
At the riverbanks of polluted Jordan
And when he saw the Negroes
Among those who came for baptism
He called them the viper’s generation
Or were they Libyan Arabs?
And Jesus came, John went inferior,
He declined to baptize Jesus,
But Jesus pleaded for the service,
Then the dove opened the heaven
And came down to anoint Jesus,
Which heaven was opened?
Was the sky or the heaven?
This must be the writer’s Gnostics
Used to calling the sky as the heaven
Why the dove and why the heaven?

Then john again began doubting
Very genuine doubt I m telling you,
You see john began spying on privacy of the king
Was he also a night runner? Maybe,
He spied on Herodias the mother of Salome
She was a chic for the king; Herod Antipas,
This stuff threw John into  a calaboose,
Then John began day dreaming
Like any other prisoner
For his freedom and bush foods
He really missed honey and locusts
And also the fruits; Quavas and mustaberries,

He thought Jesus would come running,
Panting like a cheetah to pull him out,
Out of colonial prison, Jesus never came
Hence Johns doubts;
If Jesus is the Messiah really,
Can’t he come to redeem me?
From these colonial prison Herod,
Look; we are all Jews
In fact blood related Jews
And it is a year he has never come,
To pay me a visit when am in prison
Is he the Messiah really?
Or we still have to wait for a true messiah?

But Jesus was a rude messiah
Or Jesus was jealousy? Envious?
Of John’s spiritual competence,
I think he was wrong, totally wrong
He should have saved john the Baptizer
From the Roman colonial prison,
For there is no need nor spiritual logic
For Jesus to heal the lepers, and the blind
To resurrect Jairus’s daughter
And command the devils out of a madman,
But he could rescue his cousin brother
From a colonial prison, was it detention?
Remember Mary and Elisabeth were sisters,

John was a victim of circumstance
Like those who now languish in torture,
Torture chambers of the quatanamo bay prison,
Detained and tortured inhumanly
Without hope of trial nor justice
For no other reason but faith and race,
John was a harbinger of Sadam Hussein,
Osama Bin Laden, Mummar Gaddafi,
Nelson Mandella, Luther King, Dedan Kimathi,
Elijah Masinde, Arap Manyei and Mugo wa Gatheru,
They fought tyranny with firmness
They underwent torture for the sake of humanity,
They suffered for no reason but folly that goes with tyranny.

And finally, Salome the poet,
Living by performing the spoken word,
And Proceeds of her mother’s adultery
And vampirizing on the blood of the righteous
She came and danced in artful wickedness
by gyrating her ***** satanically
In the usual wicked style of a *****’s daughter
Sending the male audience nerveless with ego
Only for to suggest her prize;
As John’s head on the platter,
John was grisly mattered in the cells
Then his head was delivered on a platter
To Salome the poet the daughter of Herodias,
It all happened when Jesus was aware
Amid the full wind of his wonders
On the crest of his fame as the messiah
Isn’t saving the prisoner good as resurrecting
Young damsels and healing the lepers’?

But anyway, it is stark culture of Europe
To chop off the heads
Of those who oppose their tyranny,
It is not only John the Baptist that have suffered,
Suffered like this in the hands of Europeans tyranny,
The list of such-like victims is endless;
Mugo wa Gatheru was buried alive in Kenya
He was ordered at a gun point
By the British colonial police,
To dig his own grave using a mattock
Then the British clobbered and buried him a live,
On this brutal burial of Mugo wa Gatheru,
The Queen of England promoted these policemen
That buried Mugo wa Gatheru,
Kotalel Arap Samoia of the Nandi Militia in Kenya
Was shot twice in the head by the British spy;
The spy chopped off Koitalel’s head
He took it to the queen in heroic dint
And the queen glorified the spy,
Anglo-American power chopped of sadam’s head
Anglo-American power killed Mummar Gaddafi,
Anglo-American power Killed Osama bin Laden
They perpetrated all these without trial,
I am tired of all these………………
Wk kortas Jan 2017
(I hate poets.
They annoy me deeply.)

I.

There are the balladeers,
Working in service of their inner Service,
(Though, despite the seeming impossibility,
Their hackneyed verse is even worse)
Creating tortuous rhyme
Which slows down labyrinthine narratives
Ending up in some deus ex machine
So implausible that it would make Euripides blush
(Most often courtesy of some unforeseen projectile
Or sudden viral contagion;
Would that their creators meet such a fate!)

II.

I come not to praise the so-called sonneteers,
But to bury them.
They are an earnest lot,
(Lord knows that they are earnest)
And they will make their fourteen lines rhyme
(Though sometimes the rhyme scheme screams for mercy)
And hang the cost.
Though their narratives are head-scratching things,
And their iambs proceed with the steadiness
Of a nonagenarian church pianist
Doing her damndest to fight the wedding march to a draw,
They are content, nay, proud of their work
Because babble rhymes with Scrabble
(Though they are not particularly proficient with the latter,
They have the former down to an art.)

III.

Let us not forget the Buk-zombies,
Those apostles of aphorism,
Most of whom speak of their departed deity
As if he were an old drinking buddy
(Never mind that most of them were two or three
Or perhaps not even a bad idea
In the back seat of some mom’s Buick
When he exited this mortal plane, stage left, even.)
One’s mind is boggled whilst considering
The expanse of the bar required to accommodate
Everyone who would like to
(Or worse, have claimed to)
Buy old Charlie a beer, not that he’d stand for a round.
They are a sullen horde, this lot,
Best dealt with by aiming for the base of the skull.

IV.
Ah, the confessionals, Lord have mercy upon their souls
(For they shall have none upon ours.)
They feel so many things so deeply
As such things have never been felt before
(They have not read their Sexton, their Snodgrass,
Their Lowell, their Pl--well, no,
They have all read their Plath.)
It is, from the moment they arise in the morning
Until such time they set aside their fears and let sleep take them,
All too much for them,
And they bravely face the days
Until such time they care bear to take action
And fling themselves from some convenient precipice.
We should, as a service to them and ourselves,
Ensure the soles of their shoes
Are sufficiently worn and slippery.

(I hate poets.
They annoy me deeply.)
With a tip of the cap (and a rather profuse apology, as well) to Ms. Dorothy Parker
NONAGENARIAN ✈️ NOW

Today, on 15th October, AIR INDIA is 91 years old......

Happy Birthday  to you,  o Jeh's dream child since 1932; we wish you success n prosperity

Currently undergoing Renaissance you are, with Ratan's attempt, a fresh-lease you will get; a huge diversity.

Jeh n Ratan, I pray, for Air India's immense growth, with Tata-ethics and veracity

Sure I am, Ratan, and all of us, Airindians, endeavour will, to achieve this, with a constant tenacity.

With God's blessings n Jeh's heavenly blessings, Ratan n all of us, this achieve will; with our  perseverance n capacity.

Armin Dutia Motashaw
Alber Dec 2017
Oh to be seventy-five again,
Says a nonagenarian
But I'm not complaining
Says the cheerful old man
It's just that looking back
Provides a longer time-span.
Vitriolic scathing psychological malevolent jujitsu
cruelly, fiendishly, incriminating
lambasting opprobrium rue
teenly dished out to yours truly

mechanically engineered hatred to stew
when passive aggression fostered corked,
where self destruction grew
tens of decades ago, when this then
much younger match chew

Scott doubted, hesitated, lollygagged...,
where in solitary confinement he brew
toxic shocking rancor towards father
and mother peaceful conflict resolution
they did eschew

much preferring hurling epithet laced
expletives out their respective mouths flew
acrimonious, furious, noxious...
which poison verbal barbs knew
no letup, nor elicited any reaction their

once upon a time adorable boy,
where they did view
my welworn, passive,
and inert mooching
their unacceptable hashtagged

ill begotten progeny you
know who, if not (spoiler alert) i.e.
this generally conscientious contemplative
enlightened self anointed guru,
albeit modest rarely

doth he (me) ballyhoo
brutally damning, flagrantly hellacious,
judiciously loathsome in *****
tibble malicious venomous tirades shew
wing no merci, when I long

overstayed welcome, yet feared moo
ving way past the age when most
grown children can't wait to pursue
autonomy, emancipation, independence, et cetera.

faith no more actually never prevailed,
only inculcated self hate
buzzfeeding iniquitous, inferiority,
incompetence, et cetera innate

worthlessness, despite positive feedback
when cute boy, but emasculation did penetrate
availing self as token "scapegoat" suffering
suckerpunches mainly name calling to deflate
an already feeble self confidence early

in mein kampf, I experienced
existential nihilism, and negate
purposefulness to live reinforced
as extremely introverted lad,
whose mien did connate

defenselessness subsequently rain
of incriminating abuse within
central processing unit did infiltrate
giving latitude for destruction to resonate
with suicide fueling anorexia

nervosa to exterminate
one germane measly, puny,
quirky... objective to obliterate
self, though parental intervention
did unfortunately vitiate,

whereby fast forward flickr
of pride did generate
altered states of perception
allowing, enabling, and

providing spirit to resuscitate
analogous preceding childhood's end,
when joie de vivre did dominate
and thy singular life innocence

and naivete didst insulate
glorious ebullient boyhood
I try to recaptcha filial love
as papa doth alleviate
crushing oppressive pennilessness.
Nirvana awaits dada dear
thine paternal parent,
who helped sire yours truly,
a widower these
last fourteen plus years,
he laments absence,

and sorely misses presence
regarding scatterbrain spouse,
single word description,
he would readily concur
appellation linkedin with
bubbly headed just legal bride

born November thirteenth
ninety thirty five
learned thru the grapevine
(I must telephone him...
before the curtain call...,
whence his spirit

exits stage door left,
cashes in chips
gives up ghost
kick the bucket
et cetera, cuz
heavy sadness still pronounced

since me birth mother (his wife)
departed about three years
following grim terminal prognosis
metastatic uterine cancer
sabotaged her vivacious person
doggedly die hard zest

Arthur Murray ballroom instructor
unbridled questing nabbed,
(albeit flirtatious ******)
husbanded coy demeanor
snookered young, tall, slender,
handsome, athletic bachelor

unwitting prime ketch
female instinct pheromone scented
bewitched, enthralled, intoxicated...
pretty thang wrought yoked
without resistance ohm mat tickly
generated electric charm

crackled, popped, and snapped
synapses nsync between infatuated pair
future groom invoked flying colors
courtesy maternal grandmother

marriage spanned approximately half century,
not entirely wedded bliss,
yet each swore fidelity to the other
..."until death do us part".
If only I was not a nonagenarian
so old, they will see that I'm an alien
if I could just press the hash tag key
they would only see me as a monkey

If only, yes if only, I was not harsh with battle cries
treading waters gentle, making no ripples
but no not me, never so gently
when I storm, I storm millions of people

Know my little pretty things
see the magic that they hold within
yet life fades fast once again
before I get too frail and old

Rest for me
if only
death for me
if only


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka  NeonSolaris
the bittersweet silent story of my life age
fifty and nine automatically rebroadcast
     in indelible (yet never washed out) beige
indistinguishably linkedin, when counting
     the last three of seventy somber orbitz,
     signify torturous custom made cage

whose darkening shades of gray
housed a weakened Harriet Harris,
     an ashen corpse lay
no doubt a grown changeling dust play

a cruel trick, and soul of me mum didst slay,
so...tis with great difficulty aye write this poem today
cathartic to brush off self denunciation,
     an albatross that dust way

heavily incriminating, ostracizing this mind of mine,
recurring every year comb May fourth a line
codifying, delineating, earmarking,  
     and doth likened
     to elementary school Boyer

     as in  Henry Kline
no less painful reflection plus unavoidable,
     hence this middle aged man lets feelings incline
toward self expression this anniversary
     revisiting re: deign

upon memorializing general up beat
defiance at death of thine late mother,
     where disease rabidly did eat
ting her til she expired,
     this singular married heir
     set himself a writing fete

wordlessly mouths never expressed greet
unbeknownst reeders gleaning my sentiments heat
ting recollected adieu bid prior,
     whence she angrily wanted to meet
that accursed nemesis
     against healthiness and repeat
  
cherished apothegm,
     that existence offers no second act
as she relinquished slipping tenuous weak bract
leave ving ever fainter grip upon cracked
pommel of mortality, an immutable fact
thence black knight denounced, pounced, hijacked
trounced unannounced, vanquished, lacked

motive to rival nixed, extinguished sputtering pact
fast fading joie de vivre unspoken,
     where death rattle racked
personal def tone accentuation tracked
subsequent self castigation,
     excoriation nearly whacked

me to Timbuktu rebuking extolling bless
sing experienced from
     this sole son for thirteen years, aye confess
when the inimitable Harriet Harris

     devastatingly, grievously, inconsolably,
     got hexed, issued jilted livingsocial, a less
son learned to late, how maddeningly mess
say yon nick lee infuriated, not accepting press

sing ill fate, nor countenancing fatal injustice,
refusing to curtsy fiendish inxs did ****
her off (poisoned scorpion sting) remiss
cheekily peppering psyche as if Swiss

cheese, a once spunky Arthur Murray shored
dance instructor, who scored
door prize in the guise of thee less torte sured
near nonagenarian papa, where meanness poured

from grim mortal outlook parlayed moored
deadly reaper, quashed, ruined as lord
stole, sacred maternal tribal nurse, unfairly did hoard
final precious seconds unexpectedly meant un explored
positive rapport forever undergirded "door"

closed to resolve ambivalence with venerable bead
did association between
     kith and kin, unfairly
     dead poet society lettered deed
wrested a vibrant life despite zest that freed
a vibrant gal to coast along dialed up esprit

     de corps spirit to live, yet greed
of metastatic cancer upended lead,
where mind over matter, sans power
     in positive thinking rubric and plead
ding didst **** last ditch homeopathic screed

ambitions *******, thus giving up the ghost
wracking sadness, sinking sorrow spilling most
lee tears of loss, among family, fellow Unitarians
of the Thomas Paine Fellowship
     included with your obituary post.
The Matzoh, was tripled in Vernarth's imagination in the first chalice of Elijah, which was expected for this mass balance in the Eunomia and in Euphrosuné, for whom there were few steps in the applicability of the kingdom and the underlying legislation of the fourth chalice of Elías, who was already inaugurating the end of all commemoration. They would have the accommodation relative to San Pablo and San Juan to join and to stage the arrival that was expected of Elías by his spiritual presence attending as an ekklesia in the assembly of the family that was preparing to dine, they will open the house in the Fourth Arrow of Zefian for domesticity and conversion of the magnanimous visit of the Hexagonal Birthright to Judah, without the yeast ferment to cross Zefian's sword in the halo of remanence that originated behind the wick of the Menorah that Vernarth held in his hands, thus When lifting it and tilting it horizontally, Saint Paul made it the Notós and the Dyticá, making the gospel a sacrosanct concoction in a double chalice crossed with the Matzoh bread in the hand of Saint John, with the first-grade olive thread that had to teach it to the spirit of the community, next to the kályx inside a Kratera, that welcomed them on the grail greater sprinkler for a great spiritual climate. They all grappled with the stillness for those who welcome them in a silence that was from another world, where Saint Paul and Elijah in their first ovation applauded Vernarth's goodwill for having brought Saint John to Judah with them, specifying the return of their forced diaspora, which meant a great breath of prostration from the letter of the Romans, for a plot against whoever converges in a community inside and outside from the site that saw the divine light, with the very mass of light hanging over the ribs of who can establish his sovereignty, with frugal needy publics that came from Corinth. Elijah was spiritually in the Cenacle, and he was in the fourth cup of the full moon that burned in the styles that hung from the highest multidimensional reasoning before a prophet, who was still fleeing sensibly from King Ahab pursuing him towards his state of humiliation, where he could not compensate himself from a concentrated oak table, and in the Mataki that made a universal meeting enabled with the twelve guards of Seleuco, who attended by means of a conditioned dreamlike weakening, and by the worship of pious exercise that would soon take him in the flesh and in wine, from his own needy who were once his chains. Ritual gestures came from their faces when they saw the kind of fidelity when they felt that they could live with their hands with roasted and immolated meat, with pieces of matzoh that they liturgized similar to Pesach. The center of the sacred synagogue fire was of sacramental flow in the eclectic portal that came from Procorus. The schizophrenic of the pantheon of union buffoons went with Euphrosuné or Eufrésine, who were instantiated among the laments and revelry for the Maenads, who shone in the flow of their sadness, to the full of their joy with cyclamen that was sustained in the prosopon worn by both goddesses with the maskein stew of Vernarth and Euphrésine, to dignify their presence before the Hexagonal birthright. Thus, the Maenads retreated beyond the third sacred fire, close to the base of the low burps of Dionysus who were scalding with Euphrosuné, in delusions to make her Maenad.

Saint Paul says: “From the cistern of Siloe the Torah was reinterpreted, the blind could not see and enter the turbulent waters of the lower cistern, similar to those of the Hasmonean. He also could not enter the synagogal, he said that he could not enter because they left him outside because he was handicapped and could not walk freely. The Mashiach told him to get up and take his belongings. The nonagenarian got up and walked to his house, just as the Master indicated. On the way he met some followers of Shammai, telling him that he could not carry heavy things on the day of Shabbat. Subsequent to this beneficial event, the Mashiach was enthroned due to this decision before the Sanhedrin, because he mentioned to them that he got up and walked, thus Yeshua interpreted the Torah in his life and property. From that moment on, the 18 clauses for converting Gentile pagans to proselytes were optimized, modifying only two, constituted by Yeshua. The school of Hillel was systematized under his erudition with the Pharisees since its foundation, making this the rabbinical school that would prevail from now on, due to the magnificence and exegesis of the Mashiach. "

In this way Shammai, with his rigidity of protocol, was questioned by his interpretation, making Hillel's more human and of personal piety with Faith-reason. They get up from this micro-journey of reminiscence, and Vernarth walks with Saint Paul and Saint John, Vernarth takes Artemis's bow, takes Zefian's fourth arrow that he brought from the Duoverse, then takes the bow and propels the arrow to where the Vóreios del Aftó, to transfer the bronze tip of Hillel towards that direction, distancing it towards the arrival of the religious objective, and creating the transferred hand of Vernarth in that of Hillel, to channel at the exact point of arrival where the Megaron will begin to be erected. Shammai, together with the minority of the voices, was skewed in the fourth arrow that was propelled in the objective of the Torah, "Bow and Arrow", touching the theology of the house of Beit Hillel, and demarcating with systemic devotion and mercy the Eruv, who was present with Hillel, making a dramatic life, the traumatic gloss of who one day carried a tree on his shoulders to a dark and unburied altar since the equinoctial of Aphtho; carrying the log, even if it had been on Shabbat, which brought Kaitelka as the last guest with Borker, when the last mogote of the whirlwind of the Profitis Ilias wind tunnel was almost closed, bringing this ballenid heavy as a cross.
Unclean Matzoh
After about fifty years as married wife
the last three fraught with strife
obvious telltale signs of terminal illness rife
hysterectomy irrevocably didst jackknife
at the least severely incapacitated
think pitted, riddled,
and rounced her tortured life.

Ovarian cancer affliction
on par with megadeath
bald pate (color of bleached skull),
and crossbones characterized mortal death
oxygen tank to sustain each measured breath.

Nonetheless her angry spirited accursed
ferocity, ejaculatory, denunciatory burst
expletive and epithet
peppered preponderant rant,
(no kidney you) laced
and dull livered worst
fulmination, exasperation,

(albeit feebly faint)
damnation well versed
lips mouthing implacable thirst
to defy grim reaper uber
lyft driver analogous hearst
jubilation immune to
interrogation and/or humiliation
diatribes interpreted glorification,

remained scythe lent bore
scathing rebukes hurled regarding
her sole son (courtesy
miraculous biological reproduction)
dogged with financial perdition
eased series of unfortunate events narration
blessed nonagenarian widower husband

generous father gave male progeny
eased (his/mine) absolution
availed immense monetary boost,
she (envision banshee)
voiced abhorrent objection
regarding liberal outpouring
triggered her vitriolic remenstration.

Similar with pointed gesticulation,
excoriation, cannibalization, abomination...
against reducing his albatross
yoking penurious defeat
her livid hostility displayed, decried,
****** how Matthew Scott,
(I shoal mussel metaphor

without clamming up, how
said offspring coasts) along easy street,
while she sorely protested (thankfully in vain)
even after succumbing to painful demise,
she vehemently, obstreperously and helplessly
loathes handsome handout
to yours truly forsakes Pete.
But sits here donned in his foreign
aged (not so lovely) bag of bones
barely functioning surviving, but by
skin off his teeth, (which explains
dentures) regretting, revisiting,
ruminating hellacious bout with

anorexia nervosa, approximately
five dozen (multiply) orbitz around
nearest solar system body agonizing,
decrying, lamenting... (slightly "FAKE"
dramatics) constant reminder deux
skinny legs ineradicable testimony

permanent indelible gawky
disproportionate ugly physique,
(particularly knobby knees and little
feet) starvation stunt houses boy
on cusp of puberty, wherein naked
undeveloped characteristics self

cannibalized attaining fullest
potential manhood - toothpick legs
(hyperbole) laughingstock, thus
maintaining shuttered life donning
trousers all year long, (albeit not
same pair) utterly embarrassed

public stares brash teasing comments
at mine psychological expense, I
grudgingly accept forever incomplete
fleshed out body costing purposeless
driven life concomitant with absolute
zero buddies, re: severe interpersonal

collateral/ fallout including missus
notwithstanding, this marriage devoid,
where emotional, physical, and spiritual
intimacy absent drooling enviously, furtively
espying healthy youths discovering vis a vis
metamorphosis transformation into young

adulthood, one kamikaze perilous nearly
figurative, asper custom made Benedict
Arnold traitor reviling against natural
processes sacrificing primate growth,
where solitude welcomed i.e. books offered

sole soul asylum hatch escape unknowingly
triggering seismic repercussions longtime
familiarization being quasi mister misanthrope
wedded to missus non people person, she
frequently exhibits hostile behaviour, which
marriage tacitly accepted as passive exit out

being under same roof as (long deceased)
mama, now nonagenarian papa, whose
former livid rage toward only son cooled as
deck aides elapsed at lightspeed, thee father/
son relationship less strained versus during
formative prepubescent stage, where sinking

unwavering, and withdrawing into black hole
wrought bereft willpower to remain among the
living depriving attainment experiencing joie de
vivre at critical chronological juncture, hence
mine entire scarred, yet expunging grief via

holistic, naturalistic, therapeutic... expressions
(exercise, meditation, reading, therapy, writing)
allows, enables, and provides modus operandi
to alleviate excoriating, lamenting, torturing...
irreversible self shortchanged inherent growth.
Uncle Jesse James Tiberius Kirk Douglas MacArthur Park Overall
will stun you with ethics till spring stumbles into summer then fall
into 2014 stroke mode for the near-nonagenarian hag Lauren Bacall
who seldom took a dump without wearing her Bogie-knitted shawl
at Kmart, Sears or the prettiest, cleanest, white-people-loving mall
where Ninjas practice Moslem prostration & the evangelistic crawl
spanning 12 lifetimes along the width weft-wise of a soft rock wall
where Sonny Bono tempted a political hit in horse-face Cher's stall,
as midgets beat the bejesus out of men who're 6-feet-something tall
(earlier this January 18th, 2019 belatedly
to acknowledge my LX birthday.)

Mine eldest sister
as I continue in the circle game
of life, (ye dear Amelie
McGeehan) darling dame
a modestly lofty poem I aim
to dash off (while riding away
high in the sky - belay
ying at Macht shnel blazing
saddles laser optic speed
in a white horse open sleigh),
and plaudits of course

without moment's delay,
your husband Richard,
one hunger re
chap, who wolfed
down his entree
(who introduced me

to fictitious song
titled Richard, Cory),
plus Harris patriarch Boyce aye
aver as gregarious soon tub be
a nonagenarian papa,
also one grand dad dee

glad this sole son did see
our father (thou wart tin...)
maintains sharp mental
a cue witty,
which does not mean he
willoughby immortal

till et tern knit tee
since the gradual
onset of death I bee
leave actually begins at
birth, but whee
ving and bobbing

(like a sponge at sea)
waves each person
closer to thee
cosmic creator, or re:
incarnate tid (three
times a day) tis key

unless otherwise specified
(if questionable issue at stake,
sans not so ease zee
as apple pie with gray vee),
hence power of attorney
in demand, cuz

this brother-hood
generated bupkis, and made prithee
**** fuse, nary a whit,
asper executor signed...
yours True Lee!
(alternatively titled: tardy duff fender of assertiveness,
especially after adjusting following insanity clause
affixed with rubber baby-buggy bumpers)

Methinks I nearly got snookered
courtesy CVS employee at store number 7569
(address: 1206 North Gravel Pike,
Zieglerville, Pennsylvania 19492)
September ninth, two thousand and twenty.

Saleswoman rattled off spiel
regarding CVS Carepass program
the missus immediately
became suspicious of aforementioned deal
every month five dollars
debited from checking account,
figurative highway robbery,
and/or outright steal.

The above trifling
unspectacular wrought scenario
an exception to rule,
whereby yours truly usually
spurred Manichean inner duel
witnessed by guns ablazing
trampling outspokenness
giving Isaac Bashevis Singers,
Gimpel the fool

run for his in dove viz hubble money
now forced into dire straits,
where chicks free yea
how **** sapiens cruel
nasty, short and brutish beastly species
devises sadomasochistic tool
hankering, and hungering to starve
think also about anonymous
innocent tortured soul (me, ha)

kept in solitary confinement,
with no chance of parole
a convict for life i.e. hard skool
of knocks alum deceived
hired, and lobotomized
slave driven human mule
donkey *** tee (hee hee hee),
and fed diet of worms
in tandem with thin gruel.

Far to often annals
constituting mein kampf,
I experienced oblivious naiveté
undergoing blitzkrieg linkedin
with scapegoat honorific,
now sortie give snort against
mine passivity harrumph!

Dan D. yankee from Schwenksville,
Pennsylvania didst doodle and dawdle
planting feather in figurative cap - yay
perceptive sixth sense analogous to xray,
yours truly more wise

to the insidious mean way
dominant nasty, short
and brutish human beasts
Machiavellian bullies instill fear
for egoistic personal gain oye vey

immediately judging me as prime target
oh my dog... early in grade school
threatening hateful taunts got underway
I attest suffering verbal abuse
persists even today

offtime couched within feigned concern,
yet sinister motives at heart stay
anger toward able, eager and ready
poetic tactics launched courtesy shipshape quay
zee reasonably rhyming literary barbs to portray,

how creative poetic technique can outweigh
Norse (er horse) sense
scrawled by Lake Woebegone
bachelor farmers' guardian angels
originally harkening from Norway
deported to Normandy Farms,

including me nonagenarian papa,
cuz they (you decide who)
started to trumpet melee
predicated when power of attorney
given to a girl named Amélie,
dime a dozen teller (of tall tales)
at Wells Fargo Bank.
Today December 27 two thousand nineteen

Start time: at sixteen minutes
after seven o'clock post meridian
End time: nine minutes after
nine o'clock post meridian.

Where the outer limits as Guiding Light
regarding twilight zone,
vis a vis edge of night
i.e. est gracia constituting caterwauling

doggone existential plight
punctuating past, present and/or
predominantly future days
of our lives (think kite)

scudding, kickstarting,
and exhibiting sight
for sore (myopic) eyes Doppler Effect
zipping, spinning, jet us sinning

within time stream spanning infinite height
(concerning self and missus,
no longer The Young the Restless,
plus All My Children,
(deux grown darling daughters),

as the world turns,
23.5 degrees relative
to our orbital plane,
nor once upon time, The Bold
and the Beautiful delight

Philly urbane guy noir once
upon time chess your
aver ridge generic white knight
in rusty armor dimly bright
oft times plumbs depth

of my psyche quite
populated with strained relations
within his birth family
serving as grist for write
ting mill, whether thy nonagenarian
father, siblings (an older/younger sister
eldest/youngest daughters tight
lipped regarding sharing travails

I rarely see them, both live out of sight
thousands miles distant, eager to take flight
as soon as opportunity prevailed,
which estranged dynamics
among all kith and kin can be to bite

yours at double scribble,
where sun don't shine, nonetheless might
as well craft birthday poems despite
any response forthcoming

(usually I can cite)
zero instances receiving slight
if any acknowledgement...,
who knows maybe one they might...
even express care and concern

which genuinely communicated
unconditional love could unite
invaluable linked bond greater than gravity,
or cosmic phenomena that doth excite
one modest organic philosophical,

quizzical, rat tickle schlemazel
ungapatchka riddled scrambling
scrivener seeking respite
with automotive issues this right

handed leftist nonestablishmentarian
plagued with general
tsuris non neophyte
to mental health issues
arising where spite

and malice gave way
to effort tubby polite
not impossible mission,
catharsis like vite
tummy soul expunging, so

yours truly can huff ford
peace of mind tonight,
and subsequent tomorrows, where
death be not proud
will transport me to another world.
Give me your hirsute/textile/hombre love you lovely hairy rag man,
with your pointy nose, unlimbered leg & warts from Larry Hagman
who from the horse's mountable side snuck up like an airy stag ram
Don't take what little's left via state Santa Christmas merry bag ban
Let's dress like women in debt at the oldest Chuck Berry drag stand
My happiness is easily seen in blood-letting cirques as corpuscular
while my rippling backwards frontage is of a physique so muscular
that it is known by fat aunt Joan as socked-in and highly avuncular
Uncle Jesse James Tiberius Kirk Douglas MacArthur Park Overall
will stun you with ethics till spring stumbles into summer then fall
into 2014 stroke mode for the near-nonagenarian hag Lauren Bacall
who seldom took a dump without wearing her Bogie-knitted shawl
at K-Mart, Sears or the prettiest, cleanest, white-people-loving mall
where Ninjas practice Moslem prostration & the evangelistic crawl
spanning 12 lifetimes along the width weft-wise of a soft rock wall
where Sonny Bono tempted a political hit in horse-face Cher's stall,
as midgets beat the bejesus out of men who're 6-feet-something tall
exhibiting syndromic Parkinsonian tremors that deliver restive rest,
in vales, dells & knolls made greater by craters marking flood crest
Dwarves are closer to ground-in filth as the average giant can attest
making 1% of nothing seem more like freeing compounded interest
that dialyze the failing kidneys of flitty Obama's E.V.D. ebola guest
Let's not be hostile, malevolent, vindictive, vengeful, edgy & mean
over the fact in Bali brassieres are for keeping peanuts nice & clean
& because poverty forces negroes to use pigeon **** for Afro-Sheen
the sympathetic Balinese must dance in ritualistic limbo in between
butch hustlers & ****** in drag that for sober Johns is readily seen
especially when darkies scarf squirrel intestines like a ghetto queen
who lacks the get-off-food-stamps-and-find-a-job-to-pay-rent gene
or the smarts not to get knocked up 5 times while you're still a teen
The sun's setting for my ******* to vent her Black Panther spleen
as it's from the udder of masonic exploitation that a **** must wean
Unitarian Universalist Church
situated in Cherry Hill, New Jersey,
whereat every Sunday morning, I
Matthew Scott Harris) blessedly zoom
virtually attend congregation
(recent attendee) experience

fellowship, albeit an outlier,
these two score plus one year out the womb,
glad mine eldest sister (Amelie) informed
her only brother (me) opportunity tomb
make living social occasion linkedin,
(albeit) remote from Schwenksville, Pennsylvania.

Yours truly spurred to articulate,
how con brio panache wisdom and wit
communicated courtesy aforementioned minister
thus thank you very much Margret O'Neall
ye infuse engaging monologues with esprit
de corps - spellbinding sermons also leavened
wordsworth their weight in... oreos, I admit

cannot eat one, which craving
sly advertisements transmit
subliminal creme filled messages tasty habit
forming just desserts, no matter tummy full
bitesize goodies stuffed in mouth before exit
ting table, no matter uncouth and unhealthy
stomach distress within abdominal pit.

The theme earlier yesterday September 27th, 2020 ye
presented, especially hit home hard, i.e.
regarding sincere apology,
cuz once rancor (bitter anger) rife between
mine nonagenarian widower papa and me,
whose sole son experienced harsh diatribes

against alienating, estranging, isolating... (see
pattern whereby introverted lad maintained
emotional, familial physical and social
distancing about three
times twenty decades before
coronavirus (COVID-19) precautions in vogue.

No matter unpleasant feelings festered ma lord
toward father and didst rent asunder
intractable mutual discord
which persisted for ages ambivalence scored
major points (oh... by the way...,
our dada twill soon ford
River Styx within netherlands,

cuz he not long for this world wide web)
thus for that reason, I dare not make hoo-ha,
nor federal case, and hence reconciliation explored
triggered partially in accord
with thought provoking exemplary disquisition
presented by Reverend Dr.
Margret A. O'Neall Developmental Minister.

Mortality foists incumbent task to make amends
doubly so since dearly departed mother
whose passing from terra firma extends,
fifteen plus Earth orbitz round the sun,

she never experienced friends'
with thyself (her aloof male offspring)
an existence of solitude he trends
thou promised himself to reach out
to father before his spirit inhabits netherlands.
tentatively took page from playbook of devout believers...

Allowing, enabling, and providing
cautious optimism to abound
thus easing grief instead
reason to rejoice found
once corpse cremated
or buried underground.

Whereby reincarnation will eventually...
mitigate grief otherwise...
mind numbing skull will experience
shell shock twill forever stun

unable to square circle
defying reality analogous to accept flying nun
(matter of fact) reunite each loved one,
thus resisting automatic reflex against secularism
just for fun.

Bidding thy nonagenarian
papa permanently farewell...
tis no rhyme nor reason
for me to cry inconsolably
versus ruminating diametrically
opposed outlook pray tell.

How bittersweet mortality doth taste
grievance especially unpalatable,
when existence of
Boyce Brandon Harris erased,
whereby fading memories
offer small consolation baste
within the noggin of his sole sun
twice orthodontically braced.

I still remember, when ye shlepped me
to Lancaster Cleft palate clinic
(mother came along for the ride;
plus she enjoyed stopping at Entenmann's
Exton, Pennsylvania location)
splurging for sweet tooth.

Doctor Mazaheri (small statured)
(a renown prosthodontist)
fitted yours truly for speech appliance
to rectify submucous cleft palate -
a bony defect in the midline
or center of the bony palate

imparted nasal twang
pronouncedly noticeably distinct
mutation genetically bequeathed
middle offspring born this way
offering yet another defect
whereupon token scapegoat
opportunistically targeted by bullies.

Twilight (zone) of your life
metaphorical draws curtain call
concomitantly ushering
remembrance of things past.

Recapitulation of most salient sunny events
fondly recalled mostly boyhood circumstances
many incorporating Lilliputian Matthew Scott Harris
forever jinxed (think hoisted by his own petard)
thus **** of jokes and laughingstock
among madding crowd.

Alas, methinks how robust, intimidating
and indomitable dad appeared
when yours truly a wee lad
undersized even now as an elder statesman (ha)
still the runt of rat pack

(though this measly once upon a time miserly
mousy man no pack rat)
matter of fact downsizes personal trappings
when I eventually make trek
across River Styx.

During interim (between now and then)
hope springs eternal
that suspended animation courtesy cryogenics
will halt biological aging (particularly mine)
preserving till end of time

freeze frame where mise en scène
retaining vestigial said countenance
portraying boyish looking good (older) fella
until peace on Earth
and good will to all men/women prevails.

I thaw (ought) how grand
to donate and/or repurpose body
as science fiction becomes reality,
where mise en scene art becomes life
cessation of senescence held in check
once defunct corporeal edifices

gentrified to instill longevity
twerking, seeding, pollinating...
**** sapiens fostering civilization
to take root across solar system and beyond
sphere where sunlight doth bathe bedlam.
Alternately titled inferiority
complex since little boy
oft times ponder what
afterlife like beyond far horizon ahoy...

No matter scarce giddiness wave
did carry and buoy yours truly aloft
analogous to dwell amidst
hermetically sealed croft,
imagining small rented farm,

especially one in Scotland
comprising plot of arable land
attached to house,
where hat o' this gentleman doffed,

Thence beckoning thee
to get comfortably numb
nurse cocktail I doctor, ah yea
with good n plenti of ***
lamenting mein kampf

worth ordinarily absolute zero
on par with being
a harmless no good ***
reflecting scores of lapsed years
since bing hard school of knocks alum

lionizing American south antebellum,
Pace of existence found one
idyllic I exclaim
casually sauntering along,
quite welcoming if one lame
especially inviting nineteenth

century hamlet fictitious place name
crafted within A Stop At Willoughby
(think or Google twilight zone
Season 1 Episode 30), where
main character shed his shame,

I too could easily capitulate
if/when time travel will encapsulate
one to journey where simply
livingsocial appeared exotic and great,
versus twenty first century Schwenksville
specifically Highland Manor

each and every resident doth insulate
her/himself within four walls
affixed with memories,
a long gone mate
similar to mine nonagenarian papa,
whose spouse Harriet,

a prior poem
I did poetically narrate,
which rancor hardened filial me obdurate
considerably decreased, yet revisit loss,
now jars thee noggin o' this primate

smoldering resentment - a human trait
did poison when mother at death's door
objection to accursed
disease did undulate
within her cancerous kindled,
riddled, wasted body joie de vivre

loathsome beast could
never invalid date
grim reaper would not wait,
her passing fourteen
and half orbitz ago

Withheld a hug I never gave
presently wince with sorrow,
yours truly never forgave
himself eternal repentance within mine
soul asylum as unseen knife doth engrave
mine mean deprivation
bajillion miles separated us
unconditional love all she did crave.
(summarily iterated June 30th, 2020)

I share the following lines
with utmost delight
courtesy 20/20 hindsight
June twenty ninth
two thousand and twenty

corrigible, fallible,
and intelligible light
hearted fella (aging
baby boomer) usually polite
doth not trend toward
superficial nor trite.

Ostrich with wordplay
(mine metaphorical putty) enjoys
shape shifting rules
of English language
never knowing literary
endeavor (mine) outcome
unpredictable as wind
doth form sand dune
farfetch'd physique

peculiarly genetically hewn
no avian expert, yet
sports wide whirled
webbed analogous to loon
yours truly at heart,
an honest to dog poltroon
acquired pipes, whereat
ofttimes I sing out of tune.

No idea when predilection arose
to toy with said mother tongue
frequently buzzfeeding me passion
I rend toward proclivity
maketh anonymous reader to doze
gibberish spews gobbledygook
gushing out imaginary hose
frequently diverging off course

pertaining to poem title
which (reading between
the roaring lines) here
sought to delineate highs and lows
regarding squandered (particularly
linkedin with female)
friendship opportunities aye sip pose
jangling this beau zoe
from head to his toes.

I don't mean to engender pity
excruciatingly socially withdrawn
garnered alienation since birth
regarding human bonds, which dearth
all thru these three score years

athwart planet (unfit) ness Earth
pregnant around equatorial girth
found yours truly figuratively
tied to mother's apron string
I always felt safe and secure,

within home and hearth
even when Scottish welcome matt
yanked away by those who begot me,
now in retrospect ability
to muster mirth

within savage dime
a dozen verbal lashings
(courtesy mama and papa,
deceased and declining nonagenarian respectfully
ironically distills their overlooked worth.

Shying eye contact, I vaguely recollect
Matthew Scott Harris
as wee lad did disappoint
way back during second grade lunch
at Eagleville Elementary School,
a pretty girl christened Renee
(if memory serves me correctly)
induced writhing and foaming

incoherent sounds of silence
indubitably witnessed yours truly
an extremely shy boy
hiding behind makeshift barrier
(possibly tartan patterned lunchbox)
to avoid at all costs
painful penetrating piercing
inducing me to look askance.

As an extremely shy kid
(lacking benefit of powdermilk biscuits)
even briefest eye contact with lovely lass
sent extreme agitation
coursing thru measly frame
wreaking emotional/psychological distress

(visit repeated aforementioned
refrain ad nauseum)
recurring without letup
boyhood to young adulthood,
when within close proximity
attractive gal froze mine functionality
even with intent to exchange passing "hello."

Fast forward to recent past
i.e. namely second half of bleak existence
angst oozed and profusely did bleed,
when ability to bolster daring deed
communicating amorousness awkwardly freed
potential foolishness or embarrassment,
I shushed inner voice of amplified reason,
side stepping preservation,

aye did not heed
boot blurted out juvenile
barenaked lady desires indeed
spelling repugnance and
instant ruination against fulfilling
hormonal secretion need
wanting to escape utter fool hardiness
beating retreat (tail between legs)
ruffly with hasty dog speed!
Presents the following slapdash
higglety-pigglety bupkis, whereby reader
experiences being mentally hogtied
perusing pseudo poetic perambulation
devoid of sense and sensibility
welcoming character assassination
concerning pride of yours truly,
who merely strung together
words sharing "arian"

as their last five letters
for no particular rhyme nor reason
quite aware that forced gobbledygook
underwrites storied reputation
of unnamed aspiring author
cramming nonsense linkedin
jibber-jabber hodgepodge fashion
deplorable basketed mumbo jumbo
giving pop slop a run for its' money.

Yours truly considers himself
(courtesy obsessive compulsive fixation
with alphabetization even when dreaming
counting sheep jumping
over figurative fence by first name)
drawn toward being abecedarian,
albeit hankers being agrarian, yet
I consider myself suburban simian
(a garden variety **** sapiens)
no more significant than alcyonarian

expressing his antiauthoritarian,
intolerance toward antiegalitarian,
antihumanitarian, antilibertarian,
agog over antiquarian tomes
replete with antitotalitarian manifesto
buzzfeeding ma (zee papa's)
sixty plus shades of gray,
cuz hive got news for you
courtesy doxy me, a generic erudite apiarian,
non-aquarian, once mighty araucarian,

(when during Jurassic and Cretaceous periods
our family achieved maximum diversity
distributed across almost entire
webbed wide world), nevertheless
one humble wordsmith
decries authoritarian, barbarian, Cesarean
segmentation of rooted centenarian elders
strongly resembling cnidarians,
who foster communitarian, contrarian
culinarian, disciplinarian,

disestablishmentarianism
decrees expatiating dogmatic,
emphatic, idealistic duly strict ethos
incorporating freedom of the press
documentarian, egalitarian
establishmentarian, filarian favoring fruitarian
disavowing jump/kickstaring futilitarian endeavors
administering grammarian, hereditarian,
questioning humanitarian
versus inegalitarian paradigms

celebrating progressive legislation
courtesy coterie as Democratic jubilarian
attributing insights to sustenance
comprising Diet of Worms
and laminarian, which boosts rock ribbed
lapidarian, libertarian, librarian lunarian,
who dons gay apparel and trumpets
majoritarian fly in the ointment milarian
espousing millenarian credo,
whereby absent free will necessitarian

forces at large effect staid
senior citizens, especially nonagenarian,
advocating nonauthoritarian, bookish nonlibrarian
nonsectarian, nontotalitarian, nonutilitarian,
beefy nonutilitarian, nonvegetarian,
and octogenarian brethren,
begat in part courtesy
ovarian haploid gamete,
which offspring could trend toward
ovolactovegetarian maybe collecting

parian ware adornments
pricey merchandise afforded
courtesy parliamentarian income
sessions conducted (without resistance),
whereby officials closely resemble
blood ******* planarian ceaselessly
patting each other
(and themselves) on the back
congratulating exulting,
gushing ala Old Faithful platitudinarian

attributing their foibles to postlapsarian
forebears awaiting salvation postmillenarian
bags already packed eagerly awaiting
deliverance into seventh heaven
as promised by divine predestinarian
a time analogous to virtuous age
of innocence re: prelapsarian
or lost souls peopling congress
and house of representatives
purportedly official do bidding

for proletarian class of population
once upon bajillion years
in the past initial life forms
similar to radiolarian
propelled themselves thru primordial sea
after lapse of eons diverse riparian organisms
with nary a hint of vocations such as
rosarian, sanitarian, sectarian seminarian
dedicated worker still going strong
as septuagenarian, or sexagenarian.
Impossible mission to escape end of life woe
visit courtesy grim reaper
inevitable for every mortal,
whether he/she alive
yesterday, today or tomorrow
quintessentially senescence tabled
upended wrested status quo
belief, dogma, faith...
(i.e. Unitarian Universalism)
albeit atheistic to the core

mine temporal perspective yes and no
affects how I process death,
afterlife mystery only
googly dead souls know,
yet intimation possibly presage consciousness
prior to corporeal being given heave **
cashing in chips tantamount
to omnipotent deity collecting his/her escrow,
whether thee cremated or buried six feet below.

Our short lived presence upon terrestrial firmae
forces yours truly (me) to reconcile and address
internalized emotions whereby decades elapsed
when sole son (begat between thee and mother)
found irksome offspring regarding shortcomings
triggered hollow ultimatums begetting madness
to flourish toward meek offspring inept at filial

duties, who sought refuge within known solitude
usually finding second born progeny holed up in
his bedroom ofttimes fervently engrossed reading
imaginatively escaping trials and tribulations +
wishing he could magically transform himself
far from irate parents, within their good graces
he fell short short since January 13th MCMLIX.

Methinks ambivalence towards papa
(a nonagenarian widower)
comprising mein kampf
three score plus one year
constituted ineradicable unseen wall,
nevertheless impenetrable as any **** weir

metaphorical barrier laid brick
by figurative brick encompassed unilinear
chronological invisible breastwork did snare
nobody but thyself anomalous to grown man
exhibited effeminate characteristics
as young lad, though not queer,

nor the least bit attuned and/or aware
about ****** orientation,
but simply introverted quite clear
to any casual observer,
a veritable outcast (of Poker Flat), i.e.
cuz I experienced alienation everywhere

at home (then 324 Level Road,
school (Henry Kline Boyer Elementary)
retreated to boyhood bedroom
contrived make believe playmates
courtesy overactive mental cog and gear
named Harny and Dinny never insincere.

Dear papa, your frail physical health disallows
in apropos, callous, and egregious to trot out
vindictive remonstration harkening back days
witnessed by extreme grievances signalling
caustic verbal brickbats lobbed squarely upon
passive progeny unable to attain expectations,
(albeit reasonable), I fell far short (physically

emotionally, and academically) to acquire atta
boy approbation rather constant browbeating
frightened timid lad scared of his own shadow
methinks yours truly shameful embarrassment
whereby failure to accomplish basic income
invariably congenital fait accompli linkedin
with purported schizoid personality disorder.
His buzzfeeding spirit jump started
and kindled eternally his uplifting karma,
thus I present genuine psalm
remembrance of things past hallelujah!

Lemme automatically shift figurative gears
and apprise thee dear reader,
when a series of irreversible unfortunate events
accelerated our dependence on Karen Winkle
(another resident here at Highland Manor),
who drove yours truly and the missus
on various and sundry errands
(circa ~ early 2020 BC - before coronavirus)
and in fact lent us keys to her car.

Higher power our prayer
for vehicle unwittingly addressed
courtesy deliverance kindred lady luck,
we (the missus and me) blessed,
whereby each our collective
expanded ***** nearly burst forth

(think analogous stuffed
to hilt treasure chest)
managing without access
transporting ourselves
to and fro, hither and yon
at the merciful kindness
afforded us by above named gal
to lack automobile we did detest
metaphorically a deterrent
on par with climbing Mount Everest.

Wheel of fortune finds and concedes
good n plenty humor to cultivate
yours truly fielding mixed metaphor barley
without any sense and sensibility freight
not, neither pride nor prejudice to illustrate
merely lame jesting nsync with late
catcher in the wry methodology to obfuscate
dear reader, how ye will rate
poetic endeavor that doth undulate
without meaningful rhyme or reason.

Good instant karma iz reason
carefree mood I do avail
at expense of anonymous readers who bewail
lack of any cogent tangent scrunching brow
at each general detail

regarding my general disposition
ordinarily electric kool aid test without fail
permeates thru skin, sinew, muscle and bone
today unusually hearty and hale
lemme cut to the chase,
and explain why I feel spry

as vaguely iterated above,
our worse fate than being in jail
or being stranded at sea minus a lugsail
if surmised we acquired a vehicle
(2009 Hyundai Sonata - gold color)
ye figuratively hit nail

on head, thus ameliorating transportation woe,
which plight did prevail
(as iterated above)
since latter days of January 2020
finding the missus to rant and rail
constantly bemoaning accursed unfair travail.

Bless gratitude of Boyce Brandon Harris
mine then nonagenarian papa
at that time experienced declining health
and since passed away
seventeen plus months ago;
he formerly lived at Normandy Farms,
upscale retirement community
within Blue Bell, Pennsylvania.

After his driving days came to screeching halt,
though beset with setbacks
the endeavor to relinquish keys
(regarding aforementioned automobile)
into the hands of yours truly
courtesy coronavirus beast
presented quite thee challenge.

Initially karma dad owned
necessitated getting towed to garage
named G & S Tire & Auto
1798 Dekalb Pike, Blue Bell, PA 19422
father heavily praised above,
the mechanics (purportedly
both brothers - ordinary mothered Joes)
patiently bided their time
awaited insurance information
plus registration -
legal needed documentation
end result found endeavor
pulled off without a hitch.
Higher power our prayer for vehicle addressed
courtesy deliverance kindred lady luck,
we (the missus and me) blessed,
whereby each our expanded *****
nearly burst forth

(think analogous stuffed to hilt treasure chest)
managing without access
to automobile we did detest
metaphorically a deterrent
on par with climbing Mount Everest.

Wheel of fortune finds and concedes
good n plenty humor to cultivate
yours truly fielding mixed metaphor barley
without any sense and sensibility freight
not, neither pride nor prejudice to illustrate

merely lame jesting nsync with late
catcher in the wry methodology to obfuscate
dear reader, how ye will rate
poetic endeavor that doth undulate
without meaningful rhyme or reason.

Good karma iz reason
carefree mood I do avail
at expense of anonymous readers who bewail
lack of any cogent tangent scrunching brow
at each general detail

regarding my general disposition
ordinarily electric kool aid test without fail
permeates thru skin, sinew, muscle and bone
today unusually hearty and hale
lemme cut to the chase,
and explain why I feel spry

as vaguely iterated above,
our worse fate than being in jail
or being stranded at sea minus a lugsail
if surmised we acquired a vehicle
(2009 Hyundai Sonata - gold color)
ye figuratively hit nail

on head, thus ameliorating transportation woe,
which plight did prevail
since latter days of January 2020
finding the missus to rant and rail
constantly bemoaning accursed unfair travail.

Bless gratitude of Boyce Brandon Harris
mine nonagenarian papa
experiencing declining health
(he currently lives
at Normandy Farms retirement community
within Blue Bell, Pennsylvania),
his driving days came to screeching halt.

Though beset with setbacks
the endeavor to relinquish keys
(regarding aforementioned automobile)
into the hands of yours truly
courtesy coronavirus beast
presented quite thee challenge.

Initially karma dad owned (still does)
necessitated getting towed to garage
named G & S Tire & Auto
1798 Dekalb Pike, Blue Bell, PA 19422
father heavily praised above,
the mechanics (purportedly
both brothers - ordinary Joes)

patiently bided their time
awaiting insurance information
plus registration –
legal needed documentation
end result found endeavor
pulled off without a hitch.
2020 presidential election
already promises seat of pants suspense
hint of (post apocalyptic) coming attractions
see – https://www.aol.com/article/news/2020/09/25/
probe-into-discarded-ballots-becomes-campaign-
outrage-fuel/24630731/

supposed poll worker(s) accidentally
(yea right) fomented kerfuffle
imposible mission witnessing
transgression Republicans wont muffle
reasonable rhyme legitimate votes

purportedly some how amidst
waste paper bin (laden) shuffle
crumpled beyond recognition
easily mistaken (without
mushroom for error) for truffle.

Among electorate (debacle trumpeted)
includes nonagenarian widower papa
just biden his time before he doth die
Boyce Brandon once formidable guy
(no sir name included – nose hurry)
bedridden his shrunken body dost lie
regarding treating Normandy Farms
estates (elder care) neglect an outcry.

However hospice care consideration
thankfully option included within fee
to occupy said accommodations he
(thy male parent into cyber spatial void,

I lament spirit hoop fully heard
by long deceased dearest mommy)
strong possibility because condemnation
rankles sensitivity of yours truly namely i.e. me
aforementioned predicated upon obloquy.

More to the point paperback writer wannabe
aimed to communicate courtesy thee
humble wordsmith, concerning alarming acme
of storied chain of events horrific see
thing unfortunate voting wretch,
who supposedly disposed free
(half dozen) mail in ballots.

One need not be a brain scientist
or rocket surgeon to interpret gist,
whereby golden opportunity never missed
to embroil commander in chief
whose critique he could not desist
concerning numero uno pet peeve kissed
regarding fraudulent claim to White House keys

goodbye, viz to shortchange said totalitarian wannabe
as dear leader for life linkedin with staged imbroglio,
whereat supposed auld Don Trump ****** his fist
into air out of defiance absentee mode grist
for mill casting choice other than standing in long line
coughed on, cuz registered eligible voters ******
off, and disbelieve coronavirus (COVID19) real.

Even me dad suffering mild dementia
avidly watches television news,
who hopes to live long enough
before paying Charon mandatory dues
(to cross the River Styx)
papa ardently, confidently, fervently..., and hankers
to hear "Joe Biden" named forty sixth president
and could see right thru above concocted ruse.
tonight October  25th, 2022
terrifically summarily requoting

poetic outdated iteration,
I share the following lines
echoing in the valley
of love and delight.
courtesy 20/20 hindsight
October twenty fifth
two thousand and twenty two
admirable, corrigible, fallible,
and intelligible light

hearted fella (amazingly
gracefully aging
baby boomer) usually polite
doth not trend toward
superficial nor trite,
neither can yours truly
said to abide by beliefs, ethos
ideologies, et cetera notions characterized
as distinctly black and white.

Ostrich (I stretch) literary creativity
with Rhea yule wordplay
(mine metaphorical putty) enjoys
shape shifting rules
of English language
casting them bon voyage
analogous to loosing a hot air balloon
never knowing literary
endeavor (mine) outcome
unpredictable as wind
doth form sand dune

farfetch'd jimmied physique
peculiarly genetically hewn
no avian expert, yet
sports wide whirled
webbed analogous to loon
yours truly at heart,
an honest to dog poltroon
acquired pipes, whereat
ofttimes I (a fool on the hill)
sing out of tune.

No idea when predilection arose
to toy with said mother tongue
frequently buzzfeeding me passion,
I rend toward proclivity
maketh anonymous reader to doze
gibberish spews gobbledygook
which kooky logophile doth expose,
where gobbledygook profusely flows
gushing out imaginary hose
frequently diverging off course

pertaining to poem title
which (reading between
the roaring lines) here
sought to delineate highs and lows
regarding squandered (particularly
linkedin with female)
friendship opportunities aye sip pose
jangling this beau zoe
from head to his gnarly
webbed whirled wide toes.

I don't mean to engender pity
excruciatingly socially withdrawn
garnered alienation since birth
regarding human bonds, which dearth
all thru these three score plus three years
athwart planet (unfit) ness Earth
teetering in the balance
pregnant around equatorial girth
found yours truly figuratively
tied to mother's apron string,
I always felt safe and secure,
within home and hearth
even when Scottish welcome matt

yanked away by those who begot me,
now in retrospect ability
to muster mirth
within savage dime
a dozen verbal lashings
(courtesy mama and papa,
the former long since deceased
and latter (upon original date of this poem)
declining nonagenarian respectfully
their sole male offspring
ironically now here at petticoat juncture
amidst swath of rolling green acres
during mein kampf
distills their overlooked worth.

Shying eye contact, I vaguely recollect
Matthew Scott Harris
as wee lad did disappoint
way back during second grade lunch
at Eagleville Elementary School,
a pretty girl christened Renee
(if memory serves me correctly)
induced writhing and foaming
incoherent sounds of silence
indubitably witnessed yours truly
an extremely shy boy
hiding behind makeshift barrier
(possibly tartan patterned lunchbox)
to avoid at all costs
painful penetrating piercing
inducing me to look askance.

As an extremely shy kid
(lacking benefit of powdermilk biscuits)
even briefest eye contact with lovely lass
sent extreme agitation
coursing thru measly frame
wreaking emotional/psychological distress
(visit repeated aforementioned
refrain ad nauseum)
recurring without letup
boyhood to young adulthood,
when within close proximity
attractive gal froze mine functionality
even with intent to exchange passing "hello."

Fast forward to recent past
i.e. namely second half of bleak existence
angst oozed and profusely did bleed,
when ability to bolster daring deed
communicating amorousness awkwardly freed
potential foolishness or embarrassment,
I shushed inner voice of amplified reason,
side stepping preservation,
aye did not heed
boot blurted out juvenile

barenaked lady desires indeed
spelling repugnance and con seeded
instant ruination against fulfilling
hormonal secretion need
wanting to escape utter fool hardiness
beating hasty retreat
(think tail between legs)
ruffly at thoroughly bred dog  
with mile a minute
tail a wagging uber speed!
I attribute being a grown mad scientist
linkedin with tacit approval of parents
(both long gone to the smoky afterlife),
and donned wizard trumpeting magic spells
while dark and stormy night
(one week before Halloween),
which usher nostalgic memories
encapsulated within the following poem
initially drafted quite some years ago.

Both parents possessed pedigreed panache
(but especially my father – renown Chemist
B.B. Harris and to slightly lesser extent
late culinary cuisine queen Harmit Harms
Kuritsky - gal whose troth thy then still
livingsocial nonagenarian widower papa
pledged, while holding some bubbling
sinister looking flask in hand while both
donned trumpeting finessed affianced
doctored formula to marry, when both
partook of blind date.

This combustible transunion link analogous
to their representative first electric kool aid
basic laboratory litmus test date), which
took place without a hitch, and telepathically
encouraged begetting retinue of revered
sons and daughters, whose ken hopefully
burned with passion KRISPR incubated,
inculcated, and incurred genetic outlook
ideally transmitted to prolific brood
of begotten babes.

This kid felt embers crackling, popping,
and snapping with yen that burned from
within and without buns sin burner of this
cingular earthlinked son.

No matter a bit tentative to experiment
*****-nilly (wonka like) with rather
explosive materiel, I received truckloads
of ammunition (in tandem with benevolent
benediction) to foster dare devil and
derelict pyromaniac precocity.

Those initial awkward formative forays
assaying, assessing and carefully calibrating
this, that or other liquid or powdery substance
found me meticulously measuring and
weighing the substances using kitchen
midden malodorous kid gloves.

Frequent disappointment arose from
yours truly as well as momma and papa
when net result (of these early attempts
to blend powders and/or liquids) merely
fizzled and self extinguished
into near inaudible ****.

Continual daily practice (would lead way
for me to enter Carnegie – Mellon ---- Hall)
after countless travails, trials and trolls i.e.
uber vaporous wisps to lyft yawping banshee
like holograms, or equivalent of 10,000 maniacs)
eventually bore successful fruit in the form
of near perfect results.

Success in hotly contested field Pyrotechnics
requires striking resemblance
to any other vocation.

One must be able, eager, ready and willing
to maintain burning passion no matter any
unforeseen setbacks or heat from an
objectionable source.

Yes, there would be an errant conflagration
(sometimes set purposely by adjunct professor)
as object lesson to master usage of fire
extinguisher/fighter, a vital piece of equipment
and evenhandedness for getting hold
instantaneously jetting kickstarter live matches)
to contain any runaway flame.

I do sheepishly admit to (ahem) you
on occasion the outcome went awry.

Nonetheless, they prided their potential
fire branded wizard in the making with
kudos and praise with DYNAMITE.

Practice from indiscriminately creating
unpredictable concoctions, these lethally
marshaled nonchalant opportunities
provided quintessentially random results
though usually very wimpy in tandem
with totally tubular nerdy, geeky, freaky,
and dorky beastie boy.

As proof positive and proud testimony, they
proudly pointed (upward) to the kitchen ceiling.

There such handiworks practically covered
entire ceiling with variegated splotches.
These scorch marks keepsake frescoes to show
kith and kin unspecified years into smoky future.

Quite accurate to assume
father and mother coached,
goaded, and nurtured
exploratory ambitions and
tried not to stifle
(at least consciously or deliberately)
my early stage ambition
toward scientific artiste bent.

As homeschooled and to some extent self taught
chemically romanced muralist, I grew up (not
surprisingly) in Unitarian household paid
close attention also adhered to the pioneer spirit.

The near limitless boundaries of life, liberty and
pursuit of understanding
an underlying credo, which
allowed, enabled and provided near endless
experimentation even at the risk of life and limb.

Aside talking head
nearly burning down the house
amidst talking heads practically in dire straits,
an instinctive reflex found me immolating myself,
occasionally singeing the canine fur of Lady,
Schultz, or Socrates, et cetera no frightful
catastrophic outcomes occurred thru milieu
of mixing deceptively harmless looking
inert raw materials.

Trial and error (quite successful with latter)
via blithely cooking dicey elements forming
goulash hiccupping laboratory mishmash
practically eliminated any pained regret to take
daring risks (such as getting married – ha)
in later life.

Despite favorable and lovable upbringing,
my mother (ever the protector and/or proctor
of our family and an excellent chef boyardee
to boot) still managed to insinuate (gently
as possible) the necessity to be careful when
igniting flammable materials lest
some uncontrollable conflagration ensue.

She (mom) did frequently confess to feeling
ever so slightly jittery and uneasy with my
slapdash amateurish homebrewed pyrotechnics
and much preferred to steer my attention toward
safer hobby such as the edible objets d’arts i.e.,
the much more drab field per how to present
and aesthetically appealing and nutritious meal.

Fondness to prepare food and pretend to be
faux renowned cook (this confession admitted
rather baldly and obviously deduced) actually
competed for my most favorite avocation activity
and spare leisure time.

In other words, this chap did relish designing
his own recipes mainly from leftovers in tandem
with unpronounceable multisyllabic organic
compounds filled numerous sized dishes
and aged apothecary bottles respectively.

Without question though, the passion plus
less riskier factor to combine and potchka
dry and wet ingredients together did rank
as considerably safer medium that still
allowed, enabled and provided me an equal
opportunity to test reactions, than those
earlier iterated potentially explosive hazards.

Nonetheless, my cavalier crusading overactive
appetite, hunger and thirst to discover causative
outcomes (even with purportedly innocuous
looking household cleaning supplies or easily
acquired inert materiel) nearly witnessed an
apocalypse at three two four Level Road
on one particular nasty occasion.

I anticipated our domicile would become
rent asunder, and reduced into a black
and decker ashen funeral pyre, yet for
grace of some divine force no family
members nor pets succumbed
nor got asphyxiated from choking acrid air.
nonagenarian father experiences at Normandy Farms

Though dead, I gauge
these past one hundred and four plus months
linkedin with Gregorian calendar page
mine mother would be aghast

at deplorable inhumane outrage
played out upon Normandy Farms -
Bluebell, Pennsylvania site
where papa (a pricey
senior folk facility), he doth stage
his final showdown

consigning grim reaper
to tender body, mind, and spirit equipage
regarding preparations undertaken
heading enroute to netherlands
corporeal essence repurposed for unknown usage

though disbeliever in afterlife,
at least our beloved dada
will be freed (once and for all)
presently locked in solitary confinement
disgraceful undeserving penitential sinful wage.

Impossible mission to renounce humor
mine healthy coping mechanism de jure
sprinkling badinage doth beckon and lure
no matter said topic of death lacks cure,

unlike non mortal trial and/or
tribulation oftimes, I communicated before
namely other poetic endeavors
with reasonable rhymes less or more

yours truly hashed out, cuz apropos
persiflage my middle name
helping me endure
declining health and concomitant score,
regarding the once strapping handsome man,

who nsync with mama begat your
truly decent aspiring wordsmith
whereby cloaked skeleton
wielding a large scythe
very soon whisks away loved one extempore,

which bon voyage forever
means onset of tears and sorrow endure
however long mourning process prevails
possibly remaining years I remain healthily alive
perhaps (ideally) at least two score.

Lockdown courtesy coronavirus (COVID-19)
limits administration towards he who birthed us
(myself, and two siblings,
an older and younger sister), a plate glass screen,
nevertheless, I envision an emotional scene
bidding permanent laissez faire thee well,
who will soon rejoin Harriet,
his dearly departed forever queen.
Nonagenarian father afflicted,
his body electric awry
with congenital heart failure,
before long twill bid existence bye
whose physical well being -
corporeal essence inevitably will die

unavoidable manifest destiny...
accompanied into afterlife courtesy death
envision caricature immortal grim reaper
moost ofttimes (normally leering)
brandishing trademark scythe,
impossible mission to skirt dark shadow

creeping closer along edge of night, not shy,
eclipsing former robust native son Brooklyn
once upon time aforementioned sturdy strong guy
metamorphosed gallantly,
gangly, and gawky youth
courtesy blood, sweat and tears

conditioned into muscular trim physique
with equal fervor did apply
figurative nose to grindstone, and well nigh
academically succeeded (think flying colors)
attending City College (back then free - no lie)

deservedly acquiring mechanical engineering degree
furthering advanced studies at Columbia University
General Electric career employee
opting early retirement at age sixty
subsequently clocking thirty plus orbits around sun,
a widower past fifteen plus years, he
steadfastly remained married approximately

half century, and twas... understandably
grievously, honestly, and inconsolably sad
when terminal illness stole key
once dirt poor wife i.e. bride (never bartered)
who bore him three offspring - me
including an older and younger sister
acutely aware I (nsync with siblings)

may learn (ex post facto), our father
though art(fully) adept with smarts already told
tragically could succumb (think demise - see
above) regarding pandemic
indiscriminately claiming thee
storied Zayda as linkedin with progeny

thyself begat (deux) from yours truly,
and biological kith brought forth
their precious kin, whose limp body
born aloft without survivors
without filial piety
bequeathed as Boyce Brandon Harris'
soul into realm of dead souls eternity.
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.
How fast the years did clip and leap away,
till your Earth orbitz count ninety decades
+ uno journeys orbited around mister sun
encompassing metaphorical magnum opus
figuratively paginated bound compendium,

whereby chronology Boyce Brandon Harris
also known as papa san 'pon being drafted
his six foot 2 inch tiptop chiseled physique
(musculoskeletal frame shrunk) dada fought
the good fight one among many raw recruits

stationed south 38th parallel serving admins
Harry Truman, & Dwight David Eisenhower
bolstering strongman Syngman Rhee against
Kim Il-sung during 6/25, 1950 – 7/27, 1953
war (actually stalemate) whereby former and

latter controlled South and North Korean as
separate countries - father (soldier of fortune
(he art not yet in heaven, whatever Unitarian
equivalent would be) hoping to live at least
until Tuesday, November 3, 2020 to vote for

fightin Joe Biden, meanwhile Zayda to his 5
grandkids keeps low profile at Normandy
Farm Estates upscale retirement community
whose delicate health (i.e. congestive heart
failure) could (does) pose hardship visa vis

his immune system susceptible to microbes
(particularly strains) virile which could spell
death of beloved nonagenarian, whose dim
eyes sees approaching exit (stage door left)
out webbed wide world of living survivors.

Mayor presence be regaled as presents
courtesy second rate poetaster
born (only heir - hiss supple) while ye still
tread, albeit ably helped along with cane.

H-A-P-P-Y     B-I-R-T-H-D-A-Y
I feel honored, and flattered to acquaint myself (a married youthful looking sexagenarian solitudinarian from southeastern Montgomery County, Pennsylvania), yet feel awkward at jump/kick starting a rapport.

Literate lettered latitudinarian looms larger than life

Presents the following slapdash
higglety-pigglety bupkis, whereby reader
experiences being mentally hogtied
perusing pseudo poetic perambulation
devoid of sense and sensibility
welcoming character assassination
concerning pride and prejudice
of yours truly (me),
who merely strung together
words sharing "arian"

as their last five letters
for no particular rhyme nor reason
quite aware that forced gobbledygook
underwrites storied reputation
of unnamed aspiring author
cramming nonsense linkedin
jibber-jabber hodgepodge fashion
deplorable basketed mumbo jumbo
giving pop slop a run for its' money.

Yours truly (me) considers himself
(courtesy obsessive compulsive fixation
with alphabetization even when dreaming
counting sheep jumping
over figurative fence by first name)
drawn toward being abecedarian,
albeit hankers being agrarian,
yet I consider myself suburban simian
(a garden variety **** sapiens)
no more significant than alcyonarian

expressing his antiauthoritarian,
intolerance toward antiegalitarian,
antihumanitarian, antilibertarian,
agog over antiquarian tomes replete
with antitotalitarian manifesto buzzfeeding
ma (zee papa's) sixty plus shades of gray,
cuz hive got news for you
courtesy me, a generic erudite apiarian,
non-aquarian, once mighty araucarian,
(when during Jurassic
and Cretaceous periods

our family achieved maximum diversity
distributed across almost entire
webbed wide world), nevertheless
one humble wordsmith
decries authoritarian, barbarian, Cesarean
segmentation of rooted centenarian elders
strongly resembling cnidarians,
who foster communitarian, contrarian
culinarian, disciplinarian,
disestablishmentarianism

decrees expatiating dogmatic,
emphatic, idealistic duly strict ethos
incorporating freedom of the press
documentarian, egalitarian
establishmentarian, filarian favoring fruitarian
disavowing jump/kickstaring futilitarian endeavors
administering grammarian, hereditarian,
questioning humanitarian
versus inegalitarian paradigms
celebrating progressive legislation

courtesy coterie as Democratic jubilarian
attributing insights to sustenance
comprising Diet of Worms
and laminarian, which boosts rock ribbed
lapidarian, libertarian, librarian lunarian,
who dons gay apparel and trumpets
majoritarian fly in the ointment milarian
espousing millenarian credo,
whereby absent free will necessitarian
forces at large effect staid

senior citizens, especially nonagenarian,
advocating nonauthoritarian, bookish nonlibrarian
nonsectarian, nontotalitarian, nonutilitarian,
beefy nonutilitarian, nonvegetarian,
and octogenarian brethren,
begat in part courtesy
ovarian haploid gamete,
which offspring could trend toward
ovolactovegetarian maybe collecting
parian ware adornments

pricey merchandise afforded
courtesy parliamentarian income
sessions conducted (without resistance),
whereby officials closely resemble
blood ******* planarian ceaselessly
patting each other
(and themselves) on the back
congratulating exulting, gushing
ala Old Faithful platitudinarian
attributing their foibles to postlapsarian

forebears awaiting salvation postmillenarian
bags already packed eagerly
awaiting deliverance into seventh heaven
as promised by divine
predestinarian time analogous
to virtuous age of innocence
re: prelapsarian or lost souls peopling congress
and house of representatives
purportedly official do bidding
for proletarian class of population

once upon bajillion years
in the past initial life forms
similar to radiolarian
propelled themselves thru primordial sea
after lapse of eons diverse riparian organisms
with nary a hint of vocations
such as rosarian, sanitarian, sectarian
seminarian dedicated worker
still going strong
as septuagenarian, or sexagenarian.

adieu from one:
solitudinarian sublibrarian totalitarian trinitarian
turbellarian uniformitarian unitarian utilitarian
valetudinarian pseudo vegetarian veterinarian
and vulgarian zoantharian.

— The End —