My Fake Genealogical Knighthood

My "FAKE" Genealogical Knighthood Unbeknownst to me if royal gilded crests comprised my rusty dust caked coat of arms hence, I take liberty successfully farms productive crop to contrive fictitious Medieval Age forebears with favorable charms strong agile hands hurling crude accouterments centuries prior to invention of firearms, which weapons (of mass sieve construction) privy to proto gendarmes, this inventiveness of mine conjures courageous knights in shining armor, perhaps monogrammed, hammered chain metal, nonetheless such endeavor quite a chore where love's labors not lost, viz hub bully accepting, condoning, and employing embellishments extempore, whereby solar rays alight, flickr, and glint glore re: us astral motifs, the stellar craftsmanship one (even a poor, indigent destitute beggar like yours truly) could not ignore exquisite baldric, exotic, and heraldic trappings incorporating magical lore aesthetically pleasing fascinating, and appealing to one poor uneducated disheveled rhapsodic bohemian incumbent jibber jabbering, hallucinating, and fancying deplorable basket case to restore himself, the legitimate true heir, who could double as courtly jesting troubadour, whose slain grand papa Aaron Harris violently ousted during Uber Vodafone War constitutes dreamy gotcha your attention fabricated and facilitated to Zoar, an actual ancient city anachronistically inserted here thanks to Lot, whose Biblical reference Google made me aware, which ye probably care nary a fig about, but placename linkedin mere to allow, enable and provide bare, lee tenuous appeal dare ring me to trump poetic formality near rolly returning full circle (one tough Job) manufacturing prevarication recounting "FAKE" heir essentially envisioning, imagining, and jimmying gallant high in the saddle career timeless lifeline chess piece of centuries gone by enshrouded with reverence by this air rent considerably less provocative then missives by Baudelaire.