My "FAKE" Genealogical Knighthood

Unbeknownst to me if royal
gilded crests comprised
my rusty dust caked coat of arms
hence, I take liberty successfully farms

productive crop to contrive fictitious
Medieval Age forebears
with favorable charms
strong agile hands

hurling crude accouterments
centuries prior to invention of firearms,
which weapons (of mass sieve construction)
privy to proto gendarmes,

this inventiveness of mine conjures
courageous knights in shining armor,
perhaps monogrammed,
hammered chain metal,

nonetheless such endeavor quite a chore
where love's labors not lost,
viz hub bully accepting, condoning,
and employing embellishments extempore,

whereby solar rays alight,
flickr, and glint glore
re: us astral motifs, the stellar
craftsmanship one (even a poor,

indigent destitute beggar
like yours truly)
could not ignore
exquisite baldric, exotic, and heraldic

trappings incorporating magical lore
aesthetically pleasing
fascinating, and appealing to one poor
uneducated disheveled rhapsodic bohemian

incumbent jibber jabbering, hallucinating,
and fancying deplorable basket case to restore
himself, the legitimate true heir,
who could double as

courtly jesting troubadour,
whose slain grand papa Aaron Harris
violently ousted during Uber Vodafone War
constitutes dreamy gotcha your

attention fabricated and
facilitated to Zoar,
an actual ancient city
anachronistically inserted here

thanks to Lot, whose Biblical reference
Google made me aware,
which ye probably care
nary a fig about, but

placename linkedin mere
to allow, enable and provide bare,
lee tenuous appeal dare
ring me to trump

poetic formality near
rolly returning full circle (one tough Job)
manufacturing prevarication
recounting "FAKE" heir

essentially envisioning, imagining,
and jimmying gallant
high in the saddle career
timeless lifeline chess piece

of centuries gone by
enshrouded with reverence by this air
rent considerably less provocative
then missives by Baudelaire.