Poem -

I cherish every precious lock of my hair as a keepsake

I cherish every precious lock of my hair as a keepsake

Twas partly on account
of yours truly being incarnation of Samson;
spouse and I wed
please fate, don't say alopecia didst tread;
though atheist to higher power
yours truly pled
heart sank analogous
to plumbline made of lead
as each strand falls out of my head
without being replaced by another,
albeit veritable dead
cells comprised once luscious locks.

Futile effort to bemoan
underperforming hair follicles,
nevertheless I rank as just one
limey, measly, and nasally outlier,
(nevertheless able bodied, minded
and spirited wordsmith) doth dare
to express honest to dog distress;
Now tis lament to thinning hair,
yours truly doth beseech cosmic creator
donned as devil in disguise
rudely barging into
mine Scottish tartan matted lair
non-responsive to fervent prayer
revealing how mine paternal
genealogical trunk mane lion
whooshes like a red bull at lightspeed
vis a vis tempus fugit
galloping manic tear.

Early this year
gentle as calm ocean waters
lapping along a weir
thumb and forefinger
of right hand would peel back,
(via diagonally flipping motion
asper turning pages of calendar
representing father time
regarding personification and progression)
of fleeting seconds, minutes, days,...
gets flipped over to veer
in one direction (linear)
thy head immediately
lost hirsute thickness,
I starkly share and lament
those suffering male
or female pattern baldness,
and can't hope noticing
limp decreasing strands
intermixed with increasing
number of gray ones
sends shivers along small hairs of spine,
gloomy feeling linkedin
with old fashioned meaning of queer
really ambling along tragicomic stream,
he evinced how gargoyles mockingly leer
in conjunction dreams fraught
with frightful haunting monsters jeer
loosing sleep and kept raggedly awake
ring sound reverberating
hair splitting, jump/
kick starting decibel jamming
primary cranial gear
aye tell mice elf nothing to fear...,
yet maximizing this plight with poem 'ere
Yukon also temporarily part
blond, brown, gold,
et cetera locks mud dear
regarding inexplicable
rhyme without reason
invites compulsion, fixation, obsession...
why keratinous filament
growing out of the epidermis
(made of dead, keratinized cells)
matters so much, that one
unnamed garden variety generic
Homo sapiens would
rather be dead than bald.
 

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