Since English language my mother tongue, no surprise
Since English language my mother tongue, no surprise...
etymology encurtains, encompasses,
and encapsulates healthy fixation
why I can spend countless hours
engrossed with printed material
courtesy select magazines or books,
plus aiming to craft satisfactory
poems or prose as an avocation
to share with anonymous
well seasoned cyber surfers,
and perhaps - wishful thinking of mine
being celebrated, lauded,
touted, et cetera posthumously
as a storied author, one of the greats
of the twenty first century - ha.
As a recipient of social security disability
for scads of years -
maybe half live of mein kampf,
(courtesy a diagnosis
of schizoid personality disorder,
though Renee Cardone, a former
long time therapist linkedin with
SpringFord Counseling attested
that social anxiety,
a more accurate explanation)
regarding mental health affliction of yours truly
evident within eminent domain
of these lovely bones
since late mother brought forth
scrawny baby post parturition
January thirteenth mcmlix.
When sitting facing the external
modest size external screen
synchronized to reflect
what these fingers type on the MacBook Pro
(Retina, 15-inch, Mid 2015) laptop
(like now - at approximately
nineteen hundred hours May eighteenth
two thousand and twenty four),
a profusion, infusion, and confusion
of ideas burst forth
once a title identified
for particular writing sample.
Dearth of travel experiences
severely limits potential
excellent material to access,
hence outlook grim actually nonexistent
to tell terrific tall true globe trotting tales
spanning across webbed wide world,
thus cerebral activity limited associated
with imagined people, places,
and things (some stranger than fiction - ha).
The milieu of the Internet a dogsend
to help expedite gestating, mutating,
and rotating brilliant ideas
within the mind of me,
a modest mild mannered male,
who cannot help but wince
with dismay how father time,
albeit surreptitiously unbidden sneaks
and steals away precious
days, weeks, months, et cetera,
whereby a formerly scared, nevertheless,
happy go lucky and charming little lad
particularly when ensconced
safely and soundly
within his boyhood bedroom
far away from the madding crowd
and the deafening sound of silence trumpeting,
signalling, rocketing mortal man at lightspeed
impossible mission to thwart how tempus fugit
doth captcha forsaken sweet dreams
swept away forever.
At long last, when head merges with pillow
deep sleep offers temporary escape into zee land,
and reprieve from unwanted mailer daemons
potent images actually manifested selves
of mine subconscious sphere
breathing, blinking, and begetting life
videre licet into transient transparent people
each rapid eye movement cycle
gifting illusory persona grata super powers
generated within a flash dancing icon.
Copyright ©
Matthew Harris
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