After the storm, when the clouds are spiteful and vengeance has been taken
Breaking character at play practice for a moment of pure ecstasy and humor
Catching colds, leaving an imprint of sickness and annoyance on one's face
Dodging the curious stares of ex lovers with a feeling of relief
Envious emotions towards the summer when you're left with chills and bare trees
Frozen faces in shock of the aftermath of that day back in September
Gracious arms stretched open wide by a Savior who has nothing to hide
Helplessness left on the man alone in the street with nothing to eat
Ignorance comes with the guy who thinks he knows it all (but really knows little at all)
Jokes are thrown left and right coming straight for the girl in the corner who's feeling depression
Kindness shared between two strangers hopeful that soon they'll be more than that
Lovers share a softened gaze and a touch of hands producing electricity
Moms crying for their kids first day of school, tears of joy
Nasty boys with shallow minds give over everything they have thinking they have real "love" for the night
Open-minded people uniting in the world to feel a sense of community
Pretentious celebrities showing a carefree attitude for the camera, but heartbreak behind
Quaint and quiet simple minded people read their simple books and live in a state of simple happiness
Red cheeks flushed brighter than a firework in July
Static on the radio playing really low, a tune really slow, with a sad tone
Tucked in crop tops, high waisted jeans, & converse lending a helping hand with nostalgia for the 80s
Under said phrases and over said words shouted on the rooftop with remorse and bitterness
Vertigo left her in a state of constant anxiousness
Watery eyes dried by pruned fingers in the salt water pool mixed with salt water tears
X marking the spot where she caught him with her
Yellow, stained pages and the peaceful smell of antique books
Zealousness for life shone in her eyes, almost like a musician when their fingers brush calmly and excitedly over their instrument

Stay with me and blossom my years have fell like autumn the rain and cold is timing so bring your  cotton lovelies you know the words that warm my heart I'll bring the light for the dark I know a house is not a home like frost is not the snow I came from nothing to I'll go where ever you want me to even if it's just Walmart in another news my world is waiting for you. Inhabit and leave offspring I've been homeless I hear your heart in the song it sings, I'm held by what is true "That the world I live in is for you" and I love you..

And I love you..
And I love..

the wet sheets and stale air,
lingering cigarettes, softness of your
rhythmic breath.
your legs in mine, your heels
on my toes, your head nestled in
the contours of my neck.

here is my place of calm:
your body. the clockwork of it,
how, every couple of minutes, you jostle,
and i squeeze you which sends you back still.
how dead the world is
outside of here. the stars are muted next to you.

it’s your unapologetic zealousness,
flaming confidence. you could be naked on a stage
(which you have) and not blink twice.
blatant disregard of opinion,
drop-kicking them away. the world is yours
and you are eating it whole.

you are brighter than this town.
destined for bigger and better things.
flashing your white smile,
you could charm the gods to your will.
i only hope i can keep up, or, rather,
that you let me.

Always love deeply.

Be with someone who knows they can't stop the world for you, but will help you make your path on planet Earth with them.

Change what you don't like. The world built for one group of people and it wasn't us. We are a community, every minority, and the world was built to destroy us, not for us to change it. Change it anyway.

Don't listen to people who don't think you can. "Too idealist" isn't a thing. You can be the dreamer and the person who makes them come true.

Education isn't everything. If you go through high school and find out school isn't for you, that's up to you.

Family isn't blood, it's who's there when nobody else is.

Grades aren't everything. There are plenty of well off people who have failed classes\courses\assignments.

History lies. It only tells one side, like everything was black and white. Do your own research.

Identity is important. Respect your own and others.

Joke carefully. If nobody finds it funny, it's not funny. If you wouldn't say it in front of me don't say it.

Kindness can get you far. Every interaction you have means something. It shapes you into who you are and aren't. It alters the world, even in the slightest way.

Love is respect first. Then adoration and all the other more exciting things.

Mental health is just as important as physical health.

Never be afraid to try something new.

Observe your surroundings.

Pick your battles or be one hell of a fighter.

Question everything.

Read anytime you can.

Sexuality and gender identity are fluid.

Take photos.Selfies.Pictures of everything you see.

Use your resources.

Value everything you have and everything you don't.

Wear whatever makes you comfortable. Clothes have no gender.

Xe is an gender neutral pronoun.

You are important to the world, even when it don't feel like it.

Zealousness is never bad.

The potter and I had arranged a barter.

So, I went to see him and complete our business.

This same potter is also a painter,
and so, when I arrived,
he was in the middle of a deal that would put one of his paintings on someone’s wall
while putting more money in his pocket,
right then,
than I make in a month and a half.

Rather than impede a more artful capitalism,
I left his shop so as to pursue
some time inside of these pages.

Purchased of some small food,
a cold drink on a hot day,
I sat down to write for a while.

Having paid my own art some attention,
I made my way back toward the potter’s space
so as to complete our transaction.

On my way there,
I felt two pairs of rather wild eyes
upon me.

They, those eyes, pierced my side,
with the intensity, authority of a Roman Centurion,
stared at me with the zealousness
of The Old Testament,
fell upon me like the weight of The New Testament;
King James edition,
and I knew it.

I felt,
strangely obligated,
to acknowledge this weighted gazing,
asking these ladies how their evening was going.
My efforts were polite,
rhetorical.
I left them sturdily in my wake.

These women faded from my thoughts.
And, I wish, retrospectively,
that I had vanished
from their minds as well.

Alas, these missionaries
had been set to their devine task
by none other than
Yahweh Himself.

And, their mission,
it seemed,
was me.

They tracked my progression to the potter’s field.

“Can we pray for you?”

“Sure, you can do whatever you feel compelled to do.”

“Do you not have a relationship with The Lord?”

“I have a relationship with the entirety of The Universe.”

“Do you not seek salvation from sin, the wickedness of Satan, and the evils of men?”

“I do not. However, I do know that you seek the ability to feel good about praying for me, a disabled man, because you seem to believe that because I have legs that do not work like yours do, I must be fundamentally lacking something that you can bestow upon me.”

“Have you no faith at all?”
“Have you no relationship with Jesus Christ?”

“I do have a faith. I have a faith in my own humanity, in my inherent ability to commune with all that is honest, true, and good in The Universe.
I do not need your self-serving prayers.”

My friend,
the potter,
the painter,
sang these ladies a song;
played his guitar.

The ladies swayed in time to the music,
just a little.

Together, we bestowed,
upon this pair of zealous women,
kindness and patience
that they seemed to accept
along with our collective faithless, heathen, message
of goodwill;
love for their humanity,
if nothing else.

“Well, we didn’t come here for this,” they said.

And they left us,
none the worse for not
having been prayed over,
or preyed upon, to commune,
in each, our own way,
with each other,
The Universe,
The Great Spirit,
The Buddha,
or Whomever.

Once they had gone,
I traded three books that I had written
for a very nice vase that the potter had made.
The vase was gray,
spun with earth tones,
was flecked with robin’s-egg blue,
sits beautifully on the shelf.

It is now part of The Universe
with which I commune.

I pray
that it
is always
so.

*
-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications 2018

Amazing
Beautiful
Cravings
Desire
Ecstacy
Fantasies
Glistening
He­arts
I
Juxtapose
Knowing
Love
Missing
Now
Only
Passions
Quench
Ra­ging
Souls
Teasingly
Utter
Verbomanias
With
Xenomorphic
Yearning
­Zealousness

Learn to fall in love with your grief.
It is one of the most freeing things you can do for yourself.

If you're consumed by a deep,
stabbing anguish,
then it means your passionate,
it means you care about something enough to let it crack your bones and
boil your blood while intensity holds hands with zealousness and
locks lips with your spirit.

Never mistake your thundering sorrow for weakness.
It means you are not merely alive;
but you're ******* alive.

You always said I had no passion.

You said it so many times, it became ingrained.

Perhaps if I had discovered poetry while we were together,

perhaps then you would have stayed.

Or maybe this is how it was meant to be.

Maybe it was you that I was meant to lose.

So I could discover this zealousness inside of me.

So I could make you my muse.

Spurred by mother dearest
as well as other politesse
drummed into her second born
fobbing blandishments as incentive
tumbled off fingers of prodigal son
tripped wordsmith to splutter forth
forthwith the following lines.

Back in the day
quaint summertime of yore,
the following popular refrain reverberated
within hallowed halls of school.

"No more pencils,
no more books,
no more teacher's/
teachers' ***** looks”

Never did exotic vacations populate
those twelve weeks
when doors flung opened
at Henry Kline Boyer,
whence score years ago yours truly
now (June 8th, 2023)
approximately same age,
when mine paternal grandfather visited
me, and other members of family
at then Route Deliver #2
Collegeville, Pennsylvania,
the home of mein kampf.

Figurative eons ago
bygone innocent childhood of mine
oblivious to progressive political issues
easily delighted, liberated, tantalized...,
especially when Sunkist grandpa Harris
(Aaron) indulged yours truly
jais nais sais quois
kibitizing lovingly, mirthfully
naturally offering pleasing qualities,

surrendering slender tanned arms
where upon left wrist dangled his
venerated wristwatch (analog),
I ecstatically fingered, prized, and toyed
with said object fascinated
at the linkedin craftsmanship,
which yielded general squealing zealousness
from an ordinarily
non emotionally expressive lad.

This towheaded grandson,
extremely excited when me daddy's papa
came to this figurative rural outpost,
(despite his chastising behavior
ridiculing favorite progeny's children),
where traces of early twentieth century
still evident when manicured formal gardens
pegged, limned, harkened... back
to a supposedly simpler time

when this elderly family member
(who only completed eighth grade),
whose birth benchmarked, coincided
and demarcated with late
Industrial Revolution, whence
Philadelphia birthplace noisy with
horse drawn carriages competing
with early model automobiles
crowding thee busy thoroughfares,
where the streets have no name.

Lemme return back
to the previous topic,
and explain how
I felt eager to interact
with cranky, yet doting old man,
which showcased chained metal links
wore a temporary imprint
upon his bronzed aged skin – dog
head lee remaining
gently persuading him

to delay when departure time arrived
for favorite boyhood relative,
twas pure heavenly glory
conniving, finagling, inveigling...
our favorite grandfather
to situate myself on right side
and toy with the wristwatch (analog),
winning three way verbal tussle
between yours truly and two siblings
(an older and younger sister),

which when a kid
also exhibited glee at occasions
treasuring said older folk gave me a frog
tiled toy (sliding puzzle)
that required dexterity
moving pieces fastly secured,
which when complete
always left me agog
and this, that or
some other gewgaw, souvenir, trinket

(plus a bit of chump change given to me)
spurred mine late mum
to spark me mental cog
to say “good morning”, “good afternoon”,
“goodnight”, “thank you,”
or when eggnog proffered to this
most senior chronological guest,
who sat at the head of table,
or blankly watching television
like a bump on a log

while chided, forced, induced...
to parlay social graces
from this mere pollywog,
who (much as delight arose fussing
with trappings worn
loss on atrophied flesh),
a skittishness found me
averse to follow orders
as if I happened to be a petsmart dog.

At that time
Florida orange juiced industry
touted, popularized, and linked in
with Anita Bryant -
American singer, political activist,
known for anti-gay activism
and 1958 Miss Oklahoma
beauty pageant winner,
and a brand ambassador
from 1969 to 1980
for the Florida Citrus Commission.

Thee paternal grandfather
oft times visited our then rural abode
at that time one sturdy estate
(originally called Glen Elm)
wildlife twittered, jibber-jibber, crowed...
within the plush wooded tract
even then blueprints drawn up
land deeded, mapped, parceled,
and slated to explode;
our then eco-friendly family averse
to witness expanding commercialization

across wetlands horizons
(Canadian Geese flocked to pond,
which liquid haven courtesy Donald Nelson
got the plug pulled
and drained watery basin)
asthma late mum didst lament
misfortune of flora and fauna,
nevertheless chided me
against even thinking
about sabotaging property

after I played  devil's advocate to goad
conspiratorial natural forces
to undermine cookie cutter
look alike slap dashed, ticky tack
shoddy tinderboxes (vinyl city) growed
on formerly untamed, uber ****** woods,
perhaps early boondocks getaway hoed
and plowed, but indomitable
(naturally enshrined eminent domain
abandoned since pioneers

bushwhacked rustic habitations)
nature relished reversed
grape seeded tracery etched
yet 'pon reflection,
I ponder how early occupation knowed
no habitat foresaw wreckage
when decision via wealthy Leipers,
(original residents plus wealthy owners of
The Bell and Clapper)
unanimously custom made crafted mansion
actually originally a summer getaway.

Self imposed endeavor
to indulge drafting literary effort,
though methinks love's labor's lost
hunt and peck typing  
across qwerty keyboard
and captcha characteristics
unique to house of my boyhood,
whereby selecting alphanumeric
and/or special symbols  
instantaneously generate electronic signals
electronically communicating,
subsequently transmitting

byte size data packets description
to respective ip node
(to create document courtesy OpenOffice)
analogous how modus operandi
to build stately
sturdy summer country villa,
(circa early 1900's)
which property whittled down
to 324 Level Road demesne comprising
about a half dozen acres
eventually acquired by Boyce Harris
February 28th 1968 -

for x number of years mortgaged he towed,
a near singlehanded undertaking
to gentrify house as elements of style
witnessed once ship shape
wrought architectural structure
weathered, subjected to degradation,
naturally deteriorated
him (in vain) to enlist by force if need be
grunt laborious services of singular son
the author of these words,
who houses the ineradicable genes
and chromosomes of August Aaron.

Poetry knows no age, as thee Marcia
Abramsohn (the former ex lady friend
of my late father corresponded with me
some years back)
wrote (by hand nonetheless,
a long lost art) inlaid with ambidextrous
zealousness impossible to identify,
which hand crafted artistically colorful
epigrammatic ghostly hint emblematic
of former exuberance toward English

Language..., perhaps other once
vibrantly familiar tongues wagging
less as tempus fugit slithers unseen
stealing most cherished, prized, savored...
commodity set to countdown immediately
post parturition, yet blessed for thee
to be gifted your then four score plus four
amazingly graceful journeys celebrating
your existence replete with handmaid's
tales chronicling quotidian trials and

tribulations, yet still adept, buoyant,
cogent, diligent, eloquent, fervent,
gallant, hellbent, intent, jimmying,
kindling, loving, mustering, nursing,
outlasting...Methuselah (ha...if only)
lucid moments nudging awake
memorialized occasions, where once
upon a time (seems bajillion years ago)
innocence concomitant with naivete
throve, wherein unfettered dalliances

found untrammeled lasses and lads
absorbed with natural unbridled ******
love – gathering rosebuds while they may
whispering sweet nothings strictly
for respective paramour, (this of course
hearsay and speculation) promising each
other moon and stars ah...dusty fading
memories, yours truly can never recount,
(cuz mental illness co-opted, hijacked,
up-ended...adolescent maturation,

whereby agonizing crippling forfeiture jabs
silhouetted illusory oasis peopled with
all the golden opportunities left to wither
on the vine o'mine youth, which mirage
mocks escapist attempt into literary realm
invisible dead poets society regale an
existence bereft nope, no App could
ever even virtually duplicate (even
approximate) sidelined unrequited love,
and no this marriage yielded scanty

satisfaction, which fantasy life as
Norwegian bachelor farmer
(within mine imagination) solved,
where living off the grid remedied
forever being pennilessness, day late
dollar short dime a dozen dirt poor
dude dulling dufus...that's the news from
my Lake Woebegone...where all the
women...and children above the law
never get reprimanded.

Yes, believe me you,
I (also considered the best karaoke singer
for the go-go's)
putting Shabrina Leonita to shame
back in two thousand and twenty one
once flew high as the eagles
a grateful dead foo fighting,
earth wind and fire, beastie boy adult,

thus hopefully explaining why
I joined blue oyster cult
begetting the following rhyme I exult
while exuding angelic,
beatific, electric, fantastic,
idyllic, Judaic, kaleidoscopic
halo shimmering galt
garnering heavenly indault.

Without wearing a helm mitt on my head,
yet did suffer inxs
of welts the size of cranberries
amidst talking heads, whose traffic
mishap of cars unable to stp,
thus this passenger indistinguishable from
avast metallica skidrow populated
with heart shaped pearl jam wreckage
upon smashing pumpkins everywhere
with an evanescence shimmering
like spilt midnight oil, which dire straits

charged the super ***** ping
man-made debacle into kiss
from grateful dead village people whose
beatle brows scrunched tight
creating black crows imprimatur
resembling little feet easily mistaken
for hair line fractures,
which strongly appealed to the goo goo dolls,
who lived three doors down
purportedly within which

resided a queen latifah
(an iron maiden ruling america and europe)
plus when asked for bread, she point
in one direction, mere rolling stones away
the black eyed peas, whose ac/dc power
crowded house did feel as if 10,000 maniacs
did squeeze into a tiny black hole,
thus forsaking experiencing nirvana,
with near asphyxiation attributable
to lack of air supply so carpenters got called

to expand and golong
with a gilt emblazoned cupola –
just for kix, and to lure
a silly rabbit doing trix
any wonder full stevie adore,
which teamsters included
skilled one tradesman
roof WinWrite, these collective souls,
a veritable culture club unto themselves
off phish shill lee within the a similar
reo speedwagon as sly and the family stone
choosing king crimson to manage the influx

qua motley crue, which jane's addiction
kept ideal bad company for alice n chains,
the latter whose enslavement
akin to cinderella deprived such indigo girls
to jet set with their sought after
prince charming (even resigning themselves
to a Jethro tull type), or a chap
similar to the garden variety allman brothers,
who didst serve as Lumineers
doobie brothers morale booster

to an imaginary dragon (which beastie boy
foo fighting animals owned
by the legendary kings of leon),
whose mythic storied
BuzzFeed  incorporated their encounter
with blondie (who donned a golden earring),
which Dixie chick happened to be hail a van
driven by the everly brothers,
which latter escaped be combing caged
like monkeys in a zoo,

and carved out a niche
as beach boys blessedly banished,
where they fed on red hot chili peppers
dredged via bay city rollers
to sustain their being a survivor,
and welcomed by experiencing rebirth
viz genesis, whar
mambo kings proffered palliative
to smooth kinks concomitant with cast off
as a foreigner on maroon 5.

Zealousness yowled x wise,
venturesomely urged viz thighs
sensuousness roared qua prize of nascent
marvelous libidinal kisses jeweled iridescent
hides genital fulfillment
explodes delicious capacious brides’
atonement breathtakingly conceding conception
decides elopement fashions gustatory hoopla
insides jot kickstarter
latching mightily nourishing oxides
maids visited  unmet
testosterone satiation roared.

The brothers Gibb
lit roches ****** madness
jumpstarting, mustering puckering,
snickering at barenaked lady
male fraud betraying faithful missus,
(a veritable madonna)
meowed lamentably
analogous to cat stevens
kindling joyousness indeed.

Hotmail garnered fingerhut egghead
drew capitalone BuzzFeed amen.

Zealousness prevails to amass knowledge
lifequest nsync toward expansive lexicon
extant since yours truly kneehigh toddler
inquisitive mind fired passion to steep me
within inexhaustible voluminous treasure
trove housing increasing bound knowledge

inexplicable to thyself, wherefore heartfelt
ineradicable passion to sequester attention
between newpages of selective genres for
hours experiencing intellectual ecstatic née
******* excitation sustains purposefulness
as explains escapist redoubt within mental

framework, thee singularly soulful asylum
offering me cerebral satiation, sedation, and
solution to cope with unbearable millstone
linkedin with emotional/psychological pain
wrought courtesy neurological mutation all
throughout tender years, when one doth seek

natural predilections in tandem toward naked
lunch (heady salad days lettuce not go there),
quite the contrary this socially malnourished
individual burrowed within reading material
even now tickles fancy of mine johnny come
lately body electric exploring, crafting, and

allowing milieu writing to pacify, gratify and
codify mindset never entertaining delusions
of grandeur hypothetically envisioning to
discover friendship (even platonic) regard-
ding another, who exudes similar love with
words, though accepting fickle human nature

at most hope flickr of ephemeral pinterest
maintains attention of anonymous reader
rabbit nibbles morsel of recondite tidbit, and
synchronizing ever so briefly with logophile,
whose aura, charisma, dogma, karma, persona...
hoopfully nets/ brings even ad hoc “FAKE” smile

courtesy buzzfeeding lapsed adulterer,
whose prickly propensities
no longer promulgated –
illicit flagrante delicto behaviour condemned
nearly plunging papa into divorce court.

All, he has abundantly

And, a political abacist

Zealousness, he speak

Advertiser of pure truth

Unboundedness to the masses

Ripping, to social living

And, He is a lover of all

of scorpion stinging poison us marriage,
whereby the missus and I
experienced genesis as
mama and papa respectively.

(jest kibitizing)

thus explaining why I
(a sixty five year young adult,
albeit beatle browed)
joined blue oyster cult
to live out my dream as
a Norwegian bachelor farmer
yours truly doth exult.

Without wearing a helm mitt on my head,
yet did suffer inxs
of welts the size of cranberries
amidst talking heads, whose traffic
mishap of cars unable to stp,
thus this passenger indistinguishable from
avast metallica skidrow populated
with heart shaped pearl jam wreckage
upon smashing pumpkins everywhere
with an evanescence shimmering
like spilt midnight oil, which dire straits

charged the super ***** ping
man-made debacle into kiss
from grateful dead village people whose
beatle brows scrunched tight
creating black crows imprimatur
resembling little feet easily mistaken
for hairline fractures,
which strongly appealed
to the goo goo dolls,
who lived three doors down
purportedly within which

resided a queen latifah
(an iron maiden ruling america)
plus when asked for bread, she point
in one direction, mere rolling stones away
the black eyed peas, whose ac/dc power
crowded house did feel
as if 10,000 maniacs
did squeeze into a tine hole,
thus forsaking experiencing nirvana,
with near asphyxiation attributable
to lack of air supply
so carpenters got called

to expand and golong
with a gilt emblazoned cupola –
just for kix, and to lure
any wonder full steve adore,
which teamsters included
skilled one tradesman
roof WinWrite, these collective souls,
a veritable culture club unto themselves
off phish shill lee within the a similar
reo speedwagon as sly and the family stone
choosing king crimson
to manage the influx

qua motley crue, which jane's addiction
kept ideal bad company for alice n chains,
the latter whose enslavement
akin to cinderella deprived such indigo girls
to jet set with their sought after
prince charming (even resigning themselves
to a Jethro tull type), or a chap
similar to the garden variety allman brothers,
who didst serve to Lumineers
doobie brothers morale booster

to an imaginary dragon
(which beastie boy
foo fighting animals owned
by the legendary kings of leon),
whose mythic storied
BuzzFeed  incorporated their encounter
with blondie (who donned a golden earring),
which Dixie chick happened to be hail a van
driven by the everly brothers,
which latter escaped be combing caged
like monkeys in a zoo,

and carved out a niche
as beach boys blessedly banished,
where they fed on red hot chili peppers
dredged via bay city rollers
to sustain their being a survivor,
and welcomed by experiencing rebirth
viz genesis, whar
mambo kings proffered palliative
to smooth kinks concomitant with cast off
as a foreigner on maroon 5.

Zealousness yowled x wise,
venturesomely urged viz thighs
sensuousness roared qua prize of nascent
marvelous libidinal kisses jeweled iridescent
hides genital fulfillment
explodes delicious capacious brides’
atonement breathtakingly conceding conception
decides elopement fashions gustatory hoopla
insides jot kickstarter
latching mightily nourishing oxides
maids visited  unmet
testosterone satiation roared.

Queefer madness puckering of naked missus
(a veritable madonna)
meowed lamentably kindling joyousness indeed.

Hotmail garnered fingerhut egghead
drew capitalone BuzzFeed amen.

to become affianced to the grim reaper,
who never promised me a rose garden
nor crystal clear pool of fragrant delight
to accompany last living breath
before succumbing into black hole sun
re: the void of nothingness
with absolute zero remembrance of things past.

Suicidal ideation in tandem
with purposelessness
(nihilistic existentialism exponentially
increasing since my halflife ago),
and most importantly
cursed with flat limp hair,
which serious crisis undermines reason
to write reasonable poetic expression
spurs the notion to traverse consciousness,
and painlessly segway
into the hereafter
(and maybe reincarnated into a heifer)
on a broken wing and a prayer.

No glorious notion of heaven
(nor belief in some omnipotent supreme creator,
who will be instrumental
uniting those meeting their demise)
with dead souls doth explain
zealousness toward what happens to human body
very soon after they – give up the ghost
(second person singular) and die,
yet intimation fostered
linkedin to dulling senses of mine,

that allow, enable,
and provide means to see or hear,
cuz already at threescore and five
revolutions clocked around the sun
post January thirteenth
two thousand and twenty four
increased insightfulness brings to mind,
a quickening uptick courtesy senescence
whereby aural and visual deterioration occur
at what appear faster clip

than when I happened to be younger
within the lovely bones of this sensate being,
who finds himself sensitive to loud sounds
discovered audiological test administered
hearing loss at extreme high and low ranges
similarly recognizing even the largest sized letters
on the Snellen eye chart
fraught with greater difficulty
particularly without wearing corrective eyewear.

After querying Google concerning a medical term for hearing loss of high and low frequencies, the closest response came back as follows.

While there isn't a single, universally accepted term for hearing loss affecting both high and low frequencies, it would typically be described as a "mixed frequency hearing loss" or "broadband hearing loss" on an audiogram, indicating significant hearing loss across a wide range of frequencies, including both high and low tones.

Before acquiescing to the afterlife,
I bolster maximum body, mind and spirit triage
aware declining senescence
affects physical, mental and spiritual well being
what fluke roll of the genetic dice throw
wrought yours truly (me),
whose latent potential
hijacked (to Cuba) thyself,
an anomaly sexagenarian

forever stunted socially courtesy
courting The Pale Horseman
when just a lad
of approximately a dozen years
of longevity since being born
thirteen days into
the first month of nineteen fifty nine,
when according
to most Western cultural interpretations,

being born on January 13, 1959,
would not be considered
particularly auspicious or unlucky;
it's simply a regular birthdate
with no inherent positive
or negative connotations
associated with it in mainstream beliefs.

Perhaps, cuz I (the male offspring
from both deceased parents,
especially my father –
the renown Chemist B.B. Harris,
and to a slightly lesser extent
the late culinary cuisine queen
Harmit Harms Kuritsky -
the gal whose troth he pledged
while holding some
bubbling sinister looking flask in hand
on their first guinea pig type date
encouraged incurred genetic yen
that burned from without the buns of this son)
possesses a pyromaniacal streak,
no surprise cremation would be my choice
of post life treatment videlicet
mine grateful dead as a doornail
cadaver formerly yours truly.

Believe it or not, a dead doornail is actually a thing. It's a medieval carpentry term for a nail that's been “clinched” — hammered into a door with any protruding part hammered flat. It wasn't going anywhere, making the doornail “dead” and unfit for future use.