Am edging close to my life’s rim
blurred in opaque sketchiness
am hobbling on aging’s path dim
cobbled with much pettiness
That which lies beyond the mundane
sensed by the soul, knows not the brain
Leaps and sleep got in old age shallow
Now leaps, sleep gotten shallow
pinched in vised senescence
While children sweetly callow
express their quintessence:
with the jounciest leap
as well the deepest sleep
Restricted flow hemic for the ischemic
The poor ischemic
with his clogging-up brain
so curdling hemic
short term memory’s bane
Pointless any polemic
beyond doubt endemic
needs no academic
to suggest systemic
Grievously no hyperbole
comes with the family tree
makes him into an absentee
fades to insularity
Shuffling around in confusion
inside the land of delusion
No longer an appeaser
There was this peculiar geezer
a silly blabbermouth & teaser
but at last got wiser
then tugged on his visor
and ceased being such an appeaser
Still trying to buck up
Ages since in my prime
and still striving to buck up
am racing against time
to turn into a grownup
While prospects for growth by now slimmer
still flickers hope in blurry glimmer
In life’s sunset most tranquil my mindset
Enjoyed youth’s wits
Then in my senescence
wits called itself quits
Such now my quintessence:
Been left but with whits
showing up in mere fits
now unmoved by glitz
ain’t moping in the pits
Now dwell in my life’s sunset
in most tranquil a mindset
+)
whit = a tiny or scarcely detectable amount
He’s always the victim, says they tricked him
While spared Life’s worst bludgeons
our decrepit curmudgeon
one of many gudgeons
drowning himself in dudgeon
Claims others kick & trick him
he’s ends up the poor victim!
If at times duplicitous
he would loudly lament
Seldom seen solicitous
or rarely heard repent
Little thought to others given
been unable to discern
how self-occupied and driven
for others lacking concern
Oblivious in his own smugness
blames others for his lack of snugness
In daily life, then & now, life bested
In my erstwhile fast life bested
was constantly contested
Decades since my life crested
still feel oddly untested
As path ahead darkens congested
the present by my past infested
Nothing polemic simply perished in the pandemic
His life ended in Seattle
in midst of bathetic prattle
Now, who would have guessed?
Found dead, travel attired
clutching to his chest
Swedish passport expired
The world had once been his to roam
died a wizened homebody gnome
Dead-ended
I’ve gone bald
too often galled
mostly stalled
no longer called
Turned too old
no longer bold
feeling cold
soon now I’ll fold
and were it not for those wondrous jokes
would think life might be a horrid hoax