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Poem
Every January first of the new year...

finds me (a doggone muttering Homo sapien)
to give pause for reminiscences
and to take stock (sh lock and barrel)
about mein kampf in general
and previous three hundred
and sixty five days in particular
assessing some laudable accomplishments,
where inside my mind I beam radiance
envisioning an imaginary hit parade
supporting my local mummers
and married poppers
trumpeting like Dumbo the elephant,
yours truly decked out
donning red zoot suit
proud heterosexual with pride
to sport gay apparel,
and support LGBTQIA community
peering across the madding crowd
courtesy third eye blind
sauntering toward then ascending soapbox
where I smugly wax poetic and proud
fulminating, expatiating, and contending
accursed series of unfortunate events
populating lifetime since conception
until death do me part
apprising rapt listeners
about arbitrarily, catastrophically,
and unhealthily imposed behavioral restraints
accumulated over the span of sixty six orbits
around black hole sun
experiencing total eclipse of the heart
when a mollycoddled lad and youth
analogous to lapsing
into nostalgic obliviousness
impervious towards disabling behavior
disallowing, disapproving, and dissociating
natural human biological processes
obvious to casual observer,
who possibly misinterpreted
extreme introvertedness
limiting normal opportunities
to manifest destiny of emotional,
physical and spiritual fulfillment,
(a demeanor more closely associated
with celibate monk,
who took a vow of chaste silence)
allowing, enabling and providing
peers and brethren,
who drank from the same cistern
to make mockery and scapegoat me,
though perhaps ye react with surprise
that as a capricorn,
under the auspices of sea goat
yours truly purportedly gifted with skills
at navigating both
the material and emotional realms
with peachy keen aplomb.

But lo... (dearest priceless unknown reader),
how self delusion generated
mine holier than thou air
clear as day pretense
smugness hiding tight form fitting mask,
nevertheless crude autocratic, idiosyncratic,
theocratic gnostic mien
plainly shone thru invisible armor
to reveal nothing but a
selfish nasty short brute
unsuccessfully pitted karma
against unnatural dogmatic
fraying and braying restraint,
where pantheistic fealty
(rides roughshod like a bucking bronco
over revered scripture)
stamping and chomping
at the raw bits of sacred truths
nipping in the bud
and culling all opportunities
futile to out match my hubris
courtesy kindled tinder narcissism.

Tis vain for thee
to extend arms with plaintive supplication,
nor purposeful to beseech Spiritus Mundi
eternally housing benevolent
bards of yesteryear
such Fireside Poets
as Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
John Greenleaf Whittier,
James Russell Lowell,
William Cullen Bryant,
Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr,
and Ralph Waldo Emerson
even during their
being alive as cause célèbre
even generations after their lifetimes
still worth their weight in gold.

Believe me you
not even one lapsed tatterdemalion
(interestingly enough,
the writer of these words,
who took a page from playbook
videre licet life of Riley
before being not ready
for prime time player),
whose doppelganger constitutes
dolled up guise of
former lone haired pencil necked geek
seeks constant adulation, congratulation
(even if fabrication)
to experience exaltation
and strongly inclined
to cue pre-recorded applause
if audience or anonymous reader
intimates a shadow of a doubt
yours truly can vouchsafe
he donned role of lout,
nevertheless even as a teetotaler,
cannot attribute any lame excuse,
where dependence on vintage ale or stout
nor other consciousness expanding material
served as figurative crutch
to act boisterous and tout
hardy laurels,
thus retrospective accomplishments
linkedin to courage I did muster
after consuming ample
powder milk sea biscuits – ha!

Jest horsing around
attempting to round out page three
of a poem idea that initially arose
taking mental retrospective
incorporating the year
two thousand and twenty four in review
but a dearth of accomplishments
found me to embellish
and elaborate whatever whims
came to mind
(an audioslave to talking heads)
even if the pith and marrow
of these lovely bones
a figment of my well pruned
overactive imagination.
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