Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Not About Me

This hapless animal, ill-shaven, weary,
Gets out of bed at quarter after two:
Life gathers dust. So dull. So ordinary.

Dressed in pajamas, spirits less than cheery,
He looks for something, anything, to do:
This hapless animal, ill-shaven, weary,

This grumbling lug, mind blurred and eyesight bleary,
Implores the fates to fashion him anew
But must endure the plain, the ordinary.

His days all seem so mercilessly dreary:
No seraph, wings aflame, shall swoop down to
Surprise this animal, ill-shaven, weary.

No lissome nymph, no ghost benign or scary,
Will charge into his world out of the blue
To alchemize his nights -- so ordinary!

He sighs and groans, too numbed for joy or fury.
Once, he could love and laugh and dream and do.
This hapless animal, ill-shaven, weary,
Disdains the grace of what is ordinary.

No comments:

Post a Comment

In the Silverware Drawer After Dark

The steak knives are playing the Ramones at full blast. The salad forks are dancing with the teaspoons to the tune of "Come On, Ei...