Personal Vicissitudes Pronounced Irrepressible Self Loathing
Personal vicissitudes pronounced irrepressible self loathing
Ever since mine late boyhood
when unstoppable coded
cellular processes did segue
I experienced abhorrence
toward yours truly,
an extremely introverted kid,
whose parents nor siblings
(one younger and older sister) could
not arouse him
out of his emotional torpor
(even enlisting powers of druid)
akin being on par with
Peter Peter pumpkin eater...,
whereby he (meaning
author who crafts this poem)
kept himself isolated,
quarantined, and xed out
within self made
certifiable, formidable, impermeable,
lockable, and objectionable shell.
Me mum mollycoddled her only son
bathed him in maternal love
omnipotent motherliness
figuratively guillotined
(unwittingly) healthy maturation,
thus development sabotaged
courtesy figurative apron strings.
No matter his filial relationship woeful
after attaining emerging adulthood
(to thee woman who birthed him),
he registered sentimental value
regarding keepsakes bequeathed
courtesy said maternal parent,
he still keeps cherished mementoes
redolent when she lived.
Call him a mama's happy go lucky boy,
whose later ambivalent feelings
tarnished, undermined and vitiated
short lived tender loving care,
which inherent human bondage
briefly vouchsafed, linkedin,
and cocooned wellbeing
regarding idyllic, kinetic, and opportunistic
rapport between parents,
got staind, suppurated, sundered, sullied...
in later years by incrimination
against being a long haired
pencil neck geek gainfully unemployed.
February twenty eighth ninety sixty eight
marked a tectonic seismic shift as moving vans
transported our household freight
to (at that time) R(ural) D(elivery) 2,
Level Road Collegeville, Pennsylvania 19426,
a sprawling (summer) mansion
(pleasantly sounding estate named Glen Elm),
plus included whittled down fraction
of original Hundred Acre plus wood.
Though relocation to
above mentioned domicile
(from Lantern Lane in Audubon)
within Lower Providence School District,
approximately half dozen mile distance
between former and latter home(s),
nevertheless psyche of mine
(property of extremely introverted kid)
severely hijacked to Cuba.
Invisible to the naked eye
traumatization (courtesy
chastising and reproaching -
by fellow classmates
nsync with anorexia nervosa,
and later in life
dealt hefty figurative jab
courtesy birth parents and inlaws)
tremendously impacted yours truly
analogous to him
having moved bajillion miles away
compounded by his withdrawn demeanor
diagnosed when present
youthful looking sexagenarian
reached middle adulthood
(approximately midway present age)
as schizoid personality disorder,
thus exhibiting, jump/kick starting
and promoting obvious developmental delay
bullied courtesy nasty
not so shortish brutes,
who scapegoated and rejoiced
with hip hip hurray,
meanwhile I experienced
terrible psychological melee
escaping to safe confines of bedroom,
where I wanted to stay
for mine remaining years of life.
Retrospective review,
now approaching my doddering old age
finds me beating hasty retreat
searching for fountain of youth
over yonder near Lost Horizon I gauge
constituted more'n one cruel (cheap) trick
played on super tramping urchin,
who traipsed across virtual global stage
ensnared within webbed wide world
ofttimes spends hard earned
itty bitty social security disability wage
purchasing mega million
or powerball tickets
subsequently building
connubial and proverbial
castles in the air
incorrigible lottery dreamer
erects big plans
to relocate self and spouse
to some tropical island paradise
by the dashboard light
(the above line credited
to late musician named Meatloaf),
where pristine landscape
bubbles cold mountain spring water
and blue skies crystal clear
edenic haven closest place to heaven
I lovingly, happily,
and effusively declare.
Copyright ©
Matthew Harris
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