We keep cavorting, gushing
why should anyone blush?
Over obstacles rushing
evading Death’s near brush
Time is such a rigid knave
flows without adjournment
Continuity’s mere slave
knows not of discernment
“Saving time through efficiency
watch me, watch me, always I’m!”
Then wasted in proficiency
by rush to save yet more time
Thence such time by rushing saved
gets squandered & wasted
The still moment rarely craved
though sensed but not tasted …
+)
-knave = a deceitful scoundrel; an unprincipled crafty fellow
-proficiency = skill; expertness
All this dogged insistence
that we’re so deserving
of a prolonged existence
is getting unnerving
In language
so languid
Why languish
so anguished?
Living until fifty
would likely be nifty
While in the seventies
plenty can go wrong
There accrues penalties
for living that long
Even if nursing vain hope
in starry-eyed sanguinity
ain’t the far likelier scope
to end up in ‘penguinity’?
While what time left just rolls on
until earthly life is gone
+)
-‘penguinity’ = (license) the endearing inclination to believe in a swift take-off – even after in perpetuity having frantically been flapping one’s wings and still found oneself stuck on the ground