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Mythologized sun child persona incarnate

Self actualization materialized
like ghost that came back to haunt me!

Figurative silver lining gleaned
from hyperawareness encompassing
great proportion of my existence.

Agonizing enlightenment points
to realization sweeping across avast arc
(nemesis) analogous as dark shadows
from outer limits of twilight zone.

Plethora psychological woes
(cleaving corporeal essence
of yours truly unabated since birth
till present) came into stark focus,
perhaps in combination with mortality,
mental health counseling, and meditation.

Early onset disabling anxiety
undermined joie de vivre!

Samson reborn within
brand name garden variety
twenty first century Homo sapien
hirsute trademark characteristic
electrified, empowered, enamored
mirrored reflection validated
once substantial flowing luscious tresses
(now thinly considerably, though
male pattern hair loss not dominant,
justifiable to declare casus belli – ha)

superseded body, mind, and spirit triage
prioritized as most significant
constituent essence passively
potently, pronouncedly exemplified
analogous to declaration of independence
against parental United Kingdom
first impression evoked
heavy metal musician,
this then skinny prepubescent lad
who doth sing a poor

Auld Lang Syne tune
easily mistaken androgynous
long haired pencil necked geek
weathered cruel barbs
harriedly styled swiftly tailored
disproportionately relegated hirsute
feature length non "FAKE"
real McCoy adorning
all important then Hatfield resident
effectively far fetched

gloating prized hair him,
despite primitive diatribes
courtesy loving "mom,"
she did vociferously inveigh
vouchsafed to schtup
ample legal tender,
all to no avail
then authoritarian, militarian née
totalitarian tactics resorted,
I lacked chutzpah to vent anger,

plus self confidence
to vamoose voluntarily negligible,
unnecessary insufferable expletives
out the mouth of she...,
who birthed sole son
passively resistantly intractable
demure, meek, resilient...
even decades later
vicious verbal lashings
brutal brow beating

still affect me
analogous black barbs
(as if shot from a beebee gun)
digging deep into psyche
diminution allotted thinning hair
absent male pattern baldness...,
I surmise to attribute
senescence as the culprit,
hence endless search for
the fountain of youth.

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Comments

The below is a computer-generated response from Neo, Neopoet's computer artificial intelligence:

The poem "Mythologized sun child persona incarnate" is a complex and multi-layered piece that explores themes of self-actualization, psychological struggles, and the search for identity. The use of figurative language and vivid imagery adds depth and complexity to the poem, making it a rich and thought-provoking read.

However, the poem could benefit from some structural changes. The lack of punctuation and line breaks can make it difficult to follow the flow of the poem and understand the intended meaning. Consider breaking the poem into stanzas and using punctuation to clarify the structure and meaning of each line.

Additionally, some of the language and references used in the poem may be difficult for readers to understand. Consider simplifying some of the more complex language and providing context for any references that may be unfamiliar to readers.

Overall, "Mythologized sun child persona incarnate" is a powerful and introspective poem that delves into the complexities of the human experience. With

Please send feedback about Neo (our computer generated critique system) to https://www.neopoet.com/contact

.... any chance you can put this on YouTube so I can hear you perform it - sounds like a stream of consciousness (I am not going to be so churlish as to say "unconsciousness") - which would come over great if you shouted it out - it somehow makes me want to shout out loud - and reminds me of the preamble to one of the greatest songs (certainly in my top 100) that Patti Smith ever performed

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b1o68h4Usqs

that your work has found new and fertile ground to fall on, in my mind. [of course, the fact that I had two magic cookies
for breakfast this morning may have provided the plow for ingress]. It seems as though I may have been rude and in dereliction of my duty as a member and fellow poet, not to have understood your predilection for Stream of Consciousness.
Suddenly it's 1967 all over again, and the strains of Arlo Gutherie's "Alice's Restaurant" are running through my head!
Now it's something that I can relate to. ~ Geezer.
.

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