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.