Inferiority complex as a kid, adolescent and emerging adult

Yours truly (an amazingly,

gracefully, and markedly modest

passively aging baby boomer -

formerly introverted long haired

pencil necked geek),

prattling wordsmith doth behold

nostalgic memories regarding father

(Boyce Brandon Harris)

long ago lapsed decades

during papa's prime time

many years past when complacence

existed about joie de vivre,

and considerations about mortality irrelevant,

where soothsayers promised

our family staying alive for eternity

few and far between instances found me

acting, exhibiting, illustrating brazenly bold

behavior, said rare spontaneity

the exception versus the rule,

hence following poem crafted

an endearment to those who begat me,

resorted to discipline, but NO spanking

ever since mama did cherish her little boy
scores of years before she passed away

at her death hands went limp and cold

as a shy lad his maternal and paternal parents

their virtues he extolled

contrary, now healthy sexagenarian

born of sturdy genetic mettle

rumor claims I suckled magic potion,

cuz courtesy to preventative medicine

mother followed advice of Carlton Fredericks,

renown radio commentator

and writer on health and nutrition

ne'er did mine lovely bones buckle,
even when skinny body crushingly embraced
into loving maternal fold,

without doubt mama adored motherhood

and brood of three offspring

harmonized, memorialized, pampered...

the hardworking de facto breadwinner

late twenty something handsome groom fêted

born April 9th, nineteen twenty nine,
Brooklyn fortune teller travails foretold,

when the late Harriet Harris, not so gold

din as totally bewitched, she gamely evinced

controlling authoritarian versus

crooning, marveling, and warbling

regarding once "little monkey" - me,

which pet name no longer applied

shucked off brought to abrupt halt
as yours truly grew up,

and decried childhood's end

I experienced objection to thwart growing up,
and latched unto anorexia nervosa
countless moons ago,

when I biologically, emotionally sexually transitioned 

into socially withdrawn young man,

once indomitable omnipotent

mother/son bond ex post facto lost hold,

where once applicable theme

exemplifying Harris household

Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay

dramatically, markedly plummeting

formerly measurable appreciable tolerance,

similarly short tempered patriarch
( ~6'2” ~ 200 lbs at prime)
over any five members,

especially toward singular male offspring

timid, meek, and demure (effeminate) me,
essentially ruled the roost

regarding Harris household

sole son characterized vis a vis
presented passive resistant

outward nonestablishmentarian mold

worst case scenario

would witness Matthew Scott Harris

spending longevity old and feeble minded

at 324 Level Road

outliving parents, pets

(comprising inordinate

number of dust bunnies) and siblings

(an older and younger sister),

the latter whose globetrotting exploits I envied,

nevertheless outlived anyone polled

even Methuselah, where mein kampf

blissful, fanciful, nouveau poet

nearly long forgotten boyhood charade,

facade inlaid masquerade

crumbled like broken scaffold

attaining centenarian years old -

faintly maintaining umbilical stronghold

considerably surpassing mommy dearest,

born November 13th, nineteen thirty five,

yet moments before her passing

she barely audibly apologized

for occasions she did reprimand and scold

retaliated against grim reaper,
he whisked her diseased riddled body away

after completing seventy plus orbits, all told.

I experienced interminable
relentlessly psyche burning acrid

tormenting, teasing, and talking funny
bullying vulnerability compounded amid

courtesy of split uvula set me apart

alien as a Druid livingsocial

during latter half of twentieth

and first two decades of twenty first century
rather a speech pathologist
informed legal biological guardians

regarding Lancaster Cleft Palate Clinic

minor congenital defect when
attending sixth grade at
Henry Kline Boyer Elementary

i.e., submucous cleft palate, aforesaid

whereby every day akin getting scorched
by some "NON FAKE" ironclad grid

me, this twangy nasal kid

my undersized and socially

withdrawn demeanor contributing

to existence tumultuous and turbid.