Incorporeal wooing
-- benighted brown study,
slow to bleed,
turning on its axis,
wintergreen leaf
in free fall,
when all alone
the butterfly escapes the killing jar,
to parlously play along
this dulcet bine,
strumming crura,
like Orlando to faire Rosalind
in the Valley of Hinnom,
"a hunger uncurbed by nature's calling,"
which prayerfully ascends,
asking for cotyledon to appear
by break of day/dream.

Alas, Wonder Child
Born in the stable
Of my soul
Father God, I surrender
Giving You all control

Jesus is my Savior
Now and forever more
The Prince of Peace,
The Mighty God,
The wonderful Counselor
I do adore

My child is my soul
I must give to thy Father
Complete control
I must follow His plan
Prayerfully trusting Him
For He knows I
Do not always understand

When I feel lost
Depletion of my soul
I must go back to
The Lord's Prayer
Give Him control
He will deliver me from
Evil and sooth my soul

My current mission is at hand;
to fly away to foreign land.

Today is the day of my
****** flight,

In which I will soar to an
unfathomable height.

Away from all that I
have known.

A journey I must attempt
alone.

To gods of space and time
I send a desperate plea...

Allow me passage through
your ancient realms; please
grant your mercy to me.

This mission must come
to fruition,

Regardless of my final
outcome or condition.

As on darkened wings
I begin my ascent,

To wherever this willing
spirit shall be sent.

Till ultimately I will
prayerfully discover,

The most obscure secrets
of earth and self, that I
am gifted to uncover.



-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

Pacific, pacifist pampered papa
parading par excellent paragon
parent (parenthetically parochial
particularly partisan) parvenu
passive, passionately paternalistically patient,

paunchy, peaceably pepped, perfectionist,
perceptive, perennially perky, permissively
persevering, persistently personable, perspicuous,
pertinent, phenomenally philanthropic, philharmonic

picturesquely pious, pioneering, piquantly pithy,
playfully pleasant, pleasurably plucky, plummy,
poetically poignant, politely pontificating, popular,
positively potent, powerfully practiced pragmatist,

praiseworthy, prayerfully precious, precise
predominant, preeminently preferable, preparedly
preponderant, presently president, prestigiously
prevailing, priceless, princely, principally pristine,

privately privileged, prized, proactively procreative,
prodigiously productive, proficiently profitable,
progressively prominant, promisingly prompt,
prophetically propitious, prospectively protective,
proudly proven provocative, prudent psyched, puissant,
punctilious, punctually purposeful.

Cannot Wall The Will Of Catapulting Mice

A titled unwritten poem requiring
little effort to dip and dive
I accidentally, inadvertently,
and unexpectedly scrolled up in digital archive
among various and sundry literary endeavors,
eh, maybe about a bajillion and five,

in various stages of completion kept alive
on life support, and one non entitled migrant idea,
that unwaveringly, incessantly, dost connive
clamorously, cetera doth buzz inside my head
(aswarm like angry bees in a hive)
constitutes how ("FAKE") president Trump

emits asynchronous vibe that dost not to jive
with best interests of American people even Ivy
League scholars found yours truly ruminating,
how mine "avid groupies",
would deem to warrant duct taping
me whole body, asper drive

ving figurative written wedge, sans
my blunt opinion against commander in chief,
subsequently finding me literally diced,
hashed, minced, et cetera as an endive
or more palatable onion's relative chive
into a million little pieces,

thus better angles with me strongly advised
(along with voice of Robert Mueller) best to arrive
at less controversial topic, hence I will strive
even if blindly chased by Farmer's wive
to express (with rhyme,
but no reason), and douse

or simply avoid trumpeting, scathing,
flickr ring potential conflagration
reject as acceptable carouse
zing which resultant virtual wildfire,
would most likely lack adequate Whitehouse
funds to extinguish, this phrase

e'en thee spouse
would elicit, and expect
no readers to grouse
finding your truly making
bee line to dormouse
which doubles up (at least

for this poem) as cathouse
captivated by entertaining antics
of common house mouse
(Mus musculus), a rather mundane
alternative fur this louse,
yet I (Stuart Little)

attest tubby powerhouse
as one athletic creature
among mice and men
able to leap over tall blocks of cheese
in a single bound, ease
zee as...app pull pie by jeeves,

or prayerfully taking wing
yup...even within the uber jungle of Belize
ideally on heels of strong breeze
even on command staying stock still
if asked to freeze
for a selfie while juggling...please

do not distract, no...no..no...
without question do not dangle keys
and if shivering with cold
avoid knocking knees

so me and nest of pestiferous pals
can earn opportunity to earn fame
and fortune nothing to sneeze
at...at...at...chew, and
contract deadly disease.

Did you ever wonder, when you go to bed,
If the prayer that you're prayin', is worth bein' said.

Well I use to wonder, so I gave God a test.
I prayed for a million, as I laid to rest.

Then all through the night, as I laid sound asleep,
I knew God was workin', to prove He's not cheap.

A sweepstakes, a lotto, an estate in my name,
The list could be endless with fortune and fame.

I'll give to the homeless, I'll give to the poor,
I'll give to the Churches and charities galore.

For if there is a God, who could pass such a test,
I'll know I'm not lucky, just prayerfully blessed.

Then all of a sudden, the sun hit my eyes.
A new day had found me and before I could rise.

A voice in the distance, shook the bed where I lay;
"Your prayer is answered, you get ONE MORE DAY!"

My checking account
     currently barred and devoid of zest
experiences historical drought,
thus any heroic measures viz,
     undergoing thee absolute best

financial care ablution,
     e'en that most noblest
and cents able action
     expunging charges, would be
     seem counter productive

     wishful thinking to in vest,
thus this Citizen
     Banker, now vouchsafes,
     (as he thrashes in throes)
     of extreme emotional unrest,

and speculates intervening
     triage emergency measures,
     would be the last best
     electric acid kool aid litmus test
to alleviate permanent ******

     logical damage or worse...
     permanently affecting ability
     for him to be himself and jest...,
exhale relief along the entire
     amortization Common wealth

     (plane as spreadsheet) embankment -
     prayerfully yours truly
     hates tubby a pest...,
but further pennilessness
     would unexpectedly

     doom maturation,
     and hasten bankruptcy,
     hence he hurriedly
     writes this incomprehensible
     gobbledygook

     attempting to impersonate
     legal minted missive
     (so please pardon
     any flabby bankrolls,
     these fatty deposits

     figuratively accidental
     faux pas to get worry off chest)
cuz, now at night
     (or even during the day),
     I can never rest

in peace, nor even if aye
     scaled fully i.e.
     ascended Mount Everest
lugging entire quite
     thin monetary portfolio,

     nonetheless accomplishing heartfelt
     highly interesting fiduciary mandate
     (told from loan officer),
     not the least bit impressed
with every last ounce

     of effort ambition reinforced,
     plus with good luck amulet
     ankh ring crampons,
     but no matter such extreme steps
(anyway, say hypothetical principle

     last ditch resort fell thru,
     whereat unexpected unbalanced demise
     of Matthew Scott Harris occurred),
     and his disembodied soul
     joined among grateful dead,

     relentlessly wracking and
     writhing, hence request
ting money matter duress
     as ye probably
     (and accurately) guessed

please exempt further payments,
     cuz he (meaning I)
     would feel immensely blessed
if remaining balance purged addressed
to CAP officer at

Citizen Bank World accessing credit cards:

Circa April 9th 1929 - October 7th 2020
gratitude wells up inside me
middle grown child begat
reproductive assiduity Boyce and Harriet Harris,
who flashes back and forth
analogously hopscotching gamut of time
comprising thee dearly departed dada.

Affirmations galore
(regarding superlative traits)
beg to pour forth with utmost zeal
toward thee recently deceased papa
memorialized till eternity
as Earth turns round the sun
tracing an approximate orbital wheel.

Despite unpleasant days of yore,
when ye and mama did bellow
at nonestablishmentarian offspring (me),
an average dude with attitude (purse lips)
courtesy passive resistance
billy me, he idly exhibited his rebel yell
harbored aversion at receiving end
of parental red hot anger,

while sulking and swallowing pride
behind bedroom door
experienced paternal rejection
pitiful exemplar of mine de facto failure,
I fell short (just 5'10'')
of even nada so great expectations
immobilized by fear

to risk trusting instinctual ability
particularly livingsocial independently,
viz electric kool aid acid test
forfeiting, buzzfeeding kickstarting
requisite metamorphosis into adult
starkly aware how ye accrued
major accomplishments whereby
late twenties/early thirties

found thee owning successful career
at General Electric (as mechanical engineer)
proud homeowner (Lantern Lane, Audubon)
eventually purchasing property at 324 Level Road,
which latter abode ye did transform
into resplendent work of art,
where family and friends stood agape.

Examples of native talents included:
Begetting three progeny
expending blood, sweat, and tears
to craft multitude of projects;
i. amassing wood pile(s),
to stoke wood burning stoves

ii. designing Zayda trail for Teddy and Ruff
(two doggone mixed breed Border Collies
rescued courtesy Shari Todd Harris
at her Jacobsburg, Penna work site)
iii. constructing sauna in cellar,
iv. etching, detailing (ala fresco),
v. plus trimming living room ceiling,
vi. shingling (while fiddling) on the roof,

vii. tiling the kitchen floor,
viii. building a cistern for brethren,
ix. wood paneling many rooms,
x. building custom made toy chest,
xi. stringing up lights to increase visibility
driveway lit like Christmas tree after dark,
xii. partly assembled a kayak,

xiii. retooling - enhancing porch
(formerly slate covered),
where Morris dancers performed
at Amelie Beth Harris wedding
(upon which eldest adopted
hyphenated McGeehan
as her surname - ~ June 1990.

Multipotentiality oozed
from your every ****** cell
while please (Billy) me idle son
(yours truly) idolized ye
more'n he never did tell,
yet envied thee dear papa,
who exuded indomitable strength

even amidst most devastating loss
death of beloved Bubba, your soulmate
after she succumbed stricken with terminal illness,
whose grievous hardship
handwritten within notebooks
designated as Book 1, Book 2, and Book 3
accidentally discovered ex post facto,
when Amelie rifled thru personal materials.

Now week five after departure to Netherlands
I ask thee a question; Remember me?

One singular, (albeit married) male offspring
christened Matthew Scott Harris
praises of mine father, I sought to sing
poetically, cuz I feel honored
chance genetic dice throw
prayerfully finds ye now zipping off
upon trumpeting political left wing.

The sudden emotional
black hole (sunless) void
exploits, fuels, and generates
sadness begging, dredging, forcing forth
deserved accolades, which
reverberate, resonate and repopulate

at lightspeed prized papa stole by grim reaper
writhing, spindling, mutilating,
fondling, and agonizing absent presence
torturous reminder, viz mine mein kampf
whipsawing, sabotaging, and jackknifing
ability garden variety and generic son to function.

Hasta la vista August father - ferried I know not where
yet..., your distinct voice whispered my name I swear,
though infinite distance betwixt us unreachable ne'er
will thee be forgotten, a stupified melancholy daze
since ye departed inconsolable sobbing (mine) hear?

The finality of life, liberty,
and pursuit of happiness on Earth
writ small within constituent genetic material
seemingly, a lifetime away at birth
chronological dial spun ninety one
orbitz round nearest star well worth
fluke happenstance of events

begetting memorable times of mirth
starting while in utero
expanding mommy's girth
fast forward to meself being old fogey
settled by the crackling hearth
reminiscing treasuring dearth
of scant times with recently deceased papa.

The Princess and the Pea
starring Harriet Harris
courtesy Norristown, Pennsylvania Barn Playhouse
in the Park thespians
did bring down the house
whereby valiant prince
forever warmed her cockles and muscles.