Tag Archive | old age

So Now…

Do I care about people? Do I have a heart?
Life has thrown me into a conundrum of doubt.
I write words to express, but they’ve all come and gone.
I have only my memories to reflect on.
All my life I’d been hoping to figure things out.
Now I know that I’ve been insane right from the start.

The phone vibrates. I tremble. I can’t get used to
Random contact by randomness of entities
That see me as a prospect for making a sale.
I respond but by now I’m as slow as a snail.
I arrive quite unsatisfied and on my knees
To repent for the things I continue to do.

There’s a leak in the toilet. It’s a reminder
Of my slow steady wasting of infinite grace.
Things could have been a lot different if I had
Been with my own a righteous family comrade.
All the sins I have committed now I must face.
I’m surprised that a random soul would call me ‘sir.’

Once the life force within me was ever so bright.
Unbelievably sturdy and fast on my feet,
I had time to waste… and I did, to my regret.
Is it true that I have not a single asset
Spiritual in nature or even concrete?
Can I find anything in this world I’ve done right?

On Beating The Blues

Apr13

An old man on a job search is death wish engaged
At full throttle straight into the darkness of hell.
Able bodied I am with an excellent mind
But this world doesn’t see that. In essence, it’s blind
To what I have to offer. I’m just a hard sell
To the age of the phone app. Indeed I’m outraged.

But who gives a bat’s dropping among hell’s elite?
Having spent the last few weeks as a prostitute
On the road and in offices for interviews
That upset and degrade me, I’ll not self-abuse
As I sense that’s the intent because they can’t shoot
Me for sport or for pleasure. Still I’m in defeat.

Sent way out to the boondocks through Amazon Flex
With a carload of packages on gravel roads
With no God Damned thing guiding me but a phone app
Then the fucking phone dies. The whole day’s turned to crap
I bent over and puckered for copious loads
Of the dark seed of Satan in virtual sex.

I’d take this as a joke played on me with a smile
And forget like a bad dream what’s happened to me
If I were a lot younger – not old and depressed.
Vows I’ve made to my doctors were not made in jest
But when push comes to shove one would have to agree
That to ask for a breastfeeding isn’t my style.

I cannot be employed, yet Magic I create.
I have many fine talents and education
That I’m still paying off after decades by now.
This life hates my damned guts. This fact I can allow
To solidify suicidal decision.
But for now, I’ve decided to nourish my hate.

Seven Ages Of Consciousness

Apr12

Seven cycles of twelve years – a normal lifespan
Corresponding to Jupiter’s solar orbit –
Are the Ages of Consciousness of humankind.
The gas giant’s influence on how we’re designed
Has to do with expansion of human spirit
Through each phase of development. Whose is this plan?

Not that it matters muchly that living takes place
Within provident cycles. The world is a stage.
The first act played upon it is of innocence
And conforming to standards. From this stage is whence
We advance to the ego. With fear we engage
The illusion of crisis in love or disgrace.

Powerful is the next act. Material gain
Through obtaining of assets the young lover sees
As righteously courageous for the family.
One consumes the adventure most voraciously
With community service and actions that please
Everyone in one’s circle through sunshine and rain.

Amplified in our giving, the soldier instinct
Comes acute with the passion of security.
Ego has become socialized and made a tool
For the next stage of judgement and sharp ridicule
Of the system’s mis-workings. The need to be free
Of the full-bodied duty will soon be distinct.

Wisdom is that of old age. The heart of the sage
In weak health with thin body and loose fitting clothes
Has become again childlike, recalling the days
When one had much more relevance and garnered praise.
Helplessly, losing all touch, the consciousness goes
Long before the remainder is swept off the stage.

An Old Man’s Advice

Feb23

Interestingly boring, the wisdom of age,
When one has but the patience to be enlightened
By someone of longevity, is worth the while.
Difficult life has been yet robust is his smile.
To the young of this world what the old recommend
Is to keep forging onward and fully engage.

His firs car was a Model A. Many first things,
Like the mule-driven ice wagon, and the ice man,
And the first jet airplane, all he was witness to.
That the world is against him he knows is not true.
There’s no reason for not being all that one can.
True contentment is what appreciation brings.

Having taught himself to read and write, he went on
To pursue a computer correspondence course.
He started a few businesses and authored some.
Once he lived in an old car. He has overcome
Obstacles to achievement. One need but indorse
One’s belief in oneself – a conclusion foregone.

Forge ahead. Do No Stop. And diminish your fear
To a point imperceptible. Young people are
The backbone of all nations. As future leaders,
Pessimism is useless. As madness occurs
Among those now decrepit, you’re wiser by far.
Be yourselves and take full charge. Your mission is clear.

Let Go!

Dec31

Deep spiritual cleansing is done at year’s end.
The completion of one cycle welcomes the new
With profound expectation that life may improve.
What on God’s green earth does it take for me to move
Past all past reawakening and get through to
That which is of most essence devoid of pretend?

In the past year I’ve learned how to write fairly well.
My opinion is fantasy to the degree
That I rate recognition. Others do much less
And gain love and respect. If contempt I express
Then the karma created cannot let me see
The next year without clinging to the past year’s hell.

Learning how to let go of the life I create
Is a process encumbered by urge to sort out
What I need to get rid of that’s holding me back
From a possible future of feeling less lack.
Memories reoccurring bedevil all doubt
That my humble existence is governed by fate.

Nothing has any meaning, and life makes no sense
Unless others come part way. But if not at all,
Then it’s all up to me to survive and to thrive
In apparent aloneness yet fully alive.
May the gift that I offer some day not be small
Yet my growth in this new year be strong and immense.

The Magic Realist

A Poet's Path

Tag Archive | old age