Member Poem

Buttering Up Family Hosts...
Richard Mcgeehan, And Amelie Harris-Mcgeehan
of Woodbury, New Jersey

Amelie Beth Harris,
     moost certainly abide
doth thee eldest "guide
ding star light" cosmos wide
     sibling of this - beside
himself (sole dough less brother)

     countless decades denied
her, his fraternal affections, up side
down sans Matthew Scott
     Harris...,didst hide,
now cries i.e. with nerves fried
rubbed raw myopic eyed,

     o'er his absent divide
ding decades that quickly glide
did by with nary (e'en) an
     iota worth acknowledgement,
     qua zero unconditional
     reciprocal mutual downside,

     and dutiful concern, n'er applied
(minus mine cold icy shoulder),
     thus I deprived woe betide
her as well myopic nearside,
did ness, the simple humane,
     germane, and fain gift – she

     unquestioningly, unflaggingly, and
     unceasingly proffered, kneaded,
     and finagled upon mine person
     requisite soulful genuine pride
did solicit (liberal heap
     ping spoonfuls pseudo

     maternalistic cherished doting)
     beloved deserved,
     (though rarely returned)
     sensitive sibling attention,
     who often assimilate vicariously
     mein kampf distress unpleasant gride,

ding psyche asthma
     lifelong repeated refrain
     hence witnessed, nursed,
     and experienced
     mothballed, jilted, and
     grievous defeat from me

     regarding sincere
     resplendent overture
     (osmotically internalizing mien
     harrumphing manifesting
     subsequent oozing livid state,
     non verbal communication,

     which respective frieze
     zing frame resembled
     Atlas shrugged posed,)
     this "big sister"
     of mine oft times
     absorbed shell shocking

     taunts pointedly, hurled, and
     directly intended to
     lambast and hurtfully chide
yours truly – courtesy,
     as mentioned fierce jawboning
     knuckleheads as willy nilly

     whim provoked,
     goaded, and evinced
     viz, heartless, fear
     less, and callous unbridled
     bullies, who like rob'n hood,
     didst ride (squarely against

     mine then hopeless guileless
     feckless emotionless duffer)
roughshod o'er meager
     self esteem "mama's boy,"
     into an ever tighter
     circle game, which

     beastie boys then
     relentlessly, jeeringly, doggedly
tauntingly, tellingly, and
     threateningly inveighed
     against yours truly collide
fist sucker punch for no rhyme,

     nor reason deride
ding (me) as de facto
     token whipping boy:
     aye soundlessly yelped,
     unbridled, bona fied
blithely, methodically,

     and nonchalantly
     targeted this then younger
     Matthew Scott Harris as
     prime pitch-perfect defenseless
     puny nasal nattering
     hen pecked well-healed

     "Pavlov's dog", who shied
from cut throat madding crowd
     thus amply served, ladled,
     and dished out cruel
     blackened barbs upon mine
     delicate fountain head

     of said scape goat – moi,
     who well tried in vain
     to abort, retry and/or
     ignore existential ache
figuratively and literally
     being seasoned, roasted,

     and peppered guinea
     pig, across wide
whirled web, asper NOT
     readily accessible, feasible,
     and suitable cattle list
     (in contrast to

     two other siblings)
     to host family get togethers,
     (a figurative thorn in my side -
     think Androcles and the Lion)

didst generously, opulently,
     and unceremoniously
     lard beneficent cornucopia
     November 22nd, 2018 feast.