Solitary rituals of mourning the write way, right?

Papa... bless his (your) heart and soul,

impossible mission your second born

sole male heir cingularly communicates,

viz his avocational crafted poem, since

written words, mine metier

write most pained words

 

with great difficulty, I

hesitantly, nonchalantly yet urgently call...

deep within bosom of master scribe

despite helpless tendency to bawl

inconsolably, cuz... sob...

honestly dad, I blink back unexpected tears

instinctually sensing regarding...

your final curtain call,

methinks (rather strongly intimates),

with unintended gall

intuit, the final encore

starring Boyce Brandon Harris

staged by nemesis i.e.

grim reaper well... since

April 9th, 1929 feted birth

celebrated amidst hall

of mountain kings actually

Aaron plus forefathers -

the latter disembodied,

ghosts of patriarchal, Judaic and genealogical

lineage since.... beginning of reckoned time

attired courtly getup couture,

appropriate for respective eras

whereby orthodox (just a hunch

 

acquired after visiting Notre Dame)

donned concomitant Jewish prayer shawl

trumpeted rock solid faith shofar

as I prevaricate, thus elaborate

the above illusory scenario concocted,

when gauzy troopers paid religious thrall

 

to holy fathers espoused

cultural preservation embedding droll

commentaries regaling glorified past

as well unbeknownst future naturally

predicting their humble people's

accomplishments modestly did extol

such who ha (think hands splayed

shoulder length apart palms upward),

yes... of course millenniums after

till celebrating prurience

bajillion years after purported

church lady playfully chided Adam and Eve Fall.

 

Now fast forward

approximately six months prior all

across wide world yet tubby

webbed oblate spheroid ball

infamous October stock market crash

yea, tis hard to imagine

thee as newborn learning to crawl

cuz now ye closely

approach River of Styx shoal

as thee life source

satisfactorily completed four and

score one year plus orbitz round the sun

with nary a trace of, New Yawk drawl,

tis mine grievance waged

against divine creator

allocating merely blink of eye

tenure upon terra firma

aware since birth, née since conception

so little consciousness allotted to each mortal

though phenomenal laudatory

encompassing long haul

characterizing life of smart Brooklyn boy

manifold quantum (virtually

augmented physical) leaps surpassing

mine fumfering, dilly dallying, and ambling

forays linked into proto Neanderthal

descendent, who admirably succeeded

driving his (mine) mother and father up the wall.