Member Poem

(on a rainy May thirteenth
two thousand and twenty five)
as a balm against ennui
becoming engrossed, immersed,
and lost in space of orrery
regarding the universe created courtesy
Nora Roberts well crafted novel Montana Sky
perusing said realistic fiction
as if inebriated
with one hundred proof liquor
experiencing drunken stupor
merely from evocatively written story
and subsequently
envying such craftsmanship
incorporating her gushing wellspring
plentifully populated
with seat of the pants suspense
interwoven with the tapestry
of love and delight
in the valley of dark shadows
where the edge of night
(awash with creatures
conjured from an overactive imagination)
creeps into the realm
bordered by outer limits of the twilight zone
buzzfeeding insatiable
appetite for consumption
of one bookworm hellbent
on appeasing his voracious hunger
mental comfort analogous
to buffet of food omnipresent
for a famished homeless person,
which unfortunate soul
could be yours truly linkedin
to a lifetime of poor planning
and lack of sticktoitiveness
toward reasonable goals
abandoning ambition ousted
with faith no more
devoid of self confidence
by long entrenched apathy
taking root kudzu like way back
during blissful boyhood,
when yours truly
deferred to those
who begat him as his boatswain de jure
and panicking
when he clocked eighteen years
around the nearest star
totally unable and unready
to be master of his domain
witnessed courtesy
as he hopscotched
from one college to another
without rhyme nor reason
and giving up on himself
before testing his short lived
quizzical excitement pursuing
for example setting sights
on bachelor of science degree
at Temple University
as a Geology major
disbelieving I possessed the smarts
to comprehend chemistry or physics,
and rather than applying
figurative button nose to grindstone
yours truly (me) impulsively withdrew
repeated the above refrain
approximately half a dozen times,
and only recently discovering
vis a vis unbridled joy
imbibing countless author's claim to fame
boosting his literacy,
which plunge into
webbed wide world of imagination
did ensure temporary alleviation of learning
not so much to impress anybody,
but more so engaged
in near futile attempt
to appease hungry bibliophile
christened Matthew Scott Harris,
I simultaneously sought escape
from cares and concerns
of an uncertain world
where the great unknown
akin to a vast dangerfield*
peopled with brutish,
nasty and short imps of the pervert
unsuspecting poe whet tick justice
awaiting within pit and the pendulum.

* "Dangerfield" is a surname of Norman origin, meaning "settlement of danger" or "village of danger". It is a habitational name, meaning it originated from a place name in northern France. The name combines the Old Norse personal name "Ásgeirr" (from "áss" meaning god and "geirr" meaning spear) with the Old French "ville" meaning settlement or village. The "d" in "Dangerfield" is a fused preposition meaning "of" or "from."