8000
Shana Aubrey Harris –
whose existence begat by
this dada and da mama
aye revel in your bursting
at figurative seams viz
maturation, and know by
Chatting over the telephone,
your aura, charisma, and
persona finds me blinking
back tear ducts ready to loose
water works i.e. cry at how
fate gifted this papa, whose
existence would be devoid
without you, and purpose
full ness undermined if the
loss of such a daughter as
thee (one young lady more
valuable than words can spell),
a reason to live would be ship
wrecked with psyche marooned
to diesuch emotional devastation,
could never be quashed even
if gums mouthed or uttered fee
fie Foe fum – Jack (of Beanstalk
storybook fame) would also
lack will to live, (yes as would
the giant), thence, this grunting,
groveling, and grieving guy
forced to traverse terrestrial
firmament like a zombie –
hi King over a vast boulevard
of broken dreams, cuz I (re:
this humdrum Harris heir),
his soul asylum inconsolably
reign if irrevocably punctured
akin to mortally wounded crane
willpower to defeat death, could
not be staved, stanched, nor
stopped, but tis fool hardy
(mill Laurel Lei) to allow,
enable, or invite darksome,
irksome, or unwhole some
thoughts, whence best for
this brain to rejoice in your
awesome, lithesome and win
some transformation into a
beauty, a non-biased commentary,
I cannot resist to exclaim, an
angelic, beloved and charming
progeny endearingly frolicking
thru the meandering time
stream, perhaps stopping at
donny brooks edge, where bucolic
flora and fauna doth frame
thee, (maybe such infinitesimal
instant per one directional hull
story of your life via doth camera
cap cha) if gameto pose as a
gamine hipster inspiring a jazzy
kindling mosaic – type meme be
fore resuming skinny dipping
back into the waters of life, where
by experiential arcade beheld
like a courtly table adorned
with many a fancyfeast to
BuzzFeed, the sights and
smells before yar senses might
appear as a charade boot upon
scrutiny, ye exhibit hesitancy
to inch closer comfort food
gluten free and NON GMO
beckons so ye haint a frayed
to take measured steps further
into verdant ever glade puzzled
at such cornucopia cob bulled
together and laid without the
presence of any handy dandy
blues clues maidin America,
this novel panoply pastiche
of prideful quality eats, and
thoughts circulate sans who
paid for such resplendent
sustenance, whence this Edenic
garden ye strayed until…without,
a life size topiary supremely chain
saw creation viz green foliage
(a hedgerow carved in the like
ness of thee punim – Shana
Aubrey Harris) all of a sudden
a burst of doting, and fawning
family and friends salutes a
touching, unanimously voted
wondrous young lady no amount
of riches would anybody trade
HAPPY BIRTHYDAY…
a shout rings out with glory
and scale of your worthiness
no mass out weighed!
