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Poem
Impossible mission for systematization to be wrung out of entropy

Which lame excuse I exclaimed,
when my dear old mom asked
rather told me in her scolding voice
to tidy up my bedroom,
cuz this son of a gun
intuited neatening (organizing)
one infinitesimal corner of the cosmos,
(a veritable pinpoint of nothingness -
our house at blank address)
hence an excellent reason
as lamely iterated above
not to straighten up
my sleeping quarters,
or... rather lesser portion
of bedroom yours truly
then shared with my younger sister,
when writer of these words
just a diminutive lad,
who wished and envied himself

to be the diminutive little boy
(analogous to Jack Wild in Oliver)
at Baker Park day camp
named Stuart (or spelled Stewart) Gillett.

I did literally shortchange
natural born propensity
to witness maximum development
of body, mind, and spirit
when psyche whipsawed
by the vagaries of social anxiety,
panic attacks,
and obsessive compulsive disorder
(psychological maladies shortlisted
to spare the reader his/her tolerance
to endure umpteenth regurgitation
of boyhood, adolescent
and emerging adult mental health ills)
attempting to stave off bidding adieu
to a childhood's end mourned,
no matter fictitiously envisioned
formative years idyll reveries
analogous to present prevarication
being a Norwegian bachelor farmer
in Lake Woebegone,
where cessation of degradation
courtesy intubation, supported jollification
think (Potemkin Village)
bolstering façade and charade
of a faux gone existence.

Hypothetical arbitrary
definition of methodization
exemplified by eldest sister
(when as an an ace student
during convincingly 
feigned rapt chores,
where the order of the day
pitted shushed obedient kids
subjected to elementary
my dear Watson pedagogical blather),
nevertheless she displayed
immaculate artistic renderings
courtesy the device
used during every grade
whether at primary,
junior and senior high school
to project images onto a screen,
where a teacher
would place transparent sheets
with written information,
called an overhead projector.

These projectors often referred to as OPs,
according to an article 
on Larry Cuban's blog.

They were also sometimes
informally called a "Belshazzar".

Since the universe
abhorred the apotheosis
of parochial law and order
as epitomized 
by aforementioned eldest sibling's
buzzfeeding with extremely
neat and groovy note-taking,
and hence succeeded
as a straight A student
completing dozen
dirty deeds done dirt cheap
thru first to twelfth grade
with flying colors,
who as a nature lover to boot
shunned killing live specimens
from a young age
and ingeniously fantastic star student
got the lion's share
born sympathetic and empathetic
toward all creatures great and small,
(whose insect collection project
assignment for seventh grade -
where she pinned
dead critters to styrofoam board
and accompanied with drawings
with her exquisite left hand
validated her artistic penchant
that southpaws gifted
with predilection toward phenomenal
exact printing and drawing
preceding me by approximately
thirteen plus months prior
to my scrawny debut
in the webbed wide world,
where yours truly ranked
as most convenient scapegoat
where utter chaos reigned supreme
as evidenced and exemplified
by illegible chicken scratch
and deplorable messiness
to assigned hurt locker of mine.
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