Poems

Youth blows by

like piss in the wind

A whirling dervish

of cackled commotion

Midlife drifts

like snows in a squall

A swirling mélange 

of noisome corrosion

Middle age ends

like ash in an urn

A jarring tocsin

of youth overturned

Old age lands

like poop from a gull

A fretful marker

Of tenures adjourned

I'm a senior citizen?

Oh, give me a break!

My years seem real?

Yet aged feels faked!

When the fictional dust of God myth settles

all that's remaining 'tis our scientific truths,

then holes in your riddles finally uncovered

are the logical facts discovering crazy proof

The greatest of miracles came at last

now most attended the Sunday mass

Doctrines taught Homo-sapiens truth

evolving Science fact as gospel's new

There once were idols gone awry

Big fish sucking small fry bone dry

Top food-chain puff adders

Coiled high on stroked ladders

With la-di-da looks in their eye

There once were some megastar thrones

Unfazed by infirm sticks and stones

From each pedestaled perch

Few got left in the lurch

Feeling way beyond reach in their bones

There once was some Sunday school prose

Cult lingo the lord only knows

Like Pavlovian dogs

Chasing Twainian frogs

Dressed up in the emperor's clothes

I'm penning poem now

I'm writing ode rhymes

my re-versed creativity

makes a well lyric time

You write one

and I'll pen another

Let's make poems 

until the end, my brother

I'll thank my mom and dad

for the life they gave me

Until it's time to go

I'll thank my lucky stars

Staying grateful for every

one of my numbered days

Until it's time to go

I know my day is coming

My time to leave will be here

much sooner than I think

It won't be easy to go

Letting the universe

take me back to that

place I was before

my parents made me

I'll thank them everyday

Until it's time to go

I don't want to go in January

seems pretty cold to me now

February feels slightly better

but still a tad early for plows

I'm not so crazy 'bout March

winter her girl before spring

if I can get closer to summer

I might be living my dreams

April or May are my maybes

June July August rank must

yet I go by lark until autumn

I stay as the fall's frosty dust

Brain dope

Makes us feel alive

Elevates our drive

Soft-soaps us to thrive

Helps us to survive

Brain dope

Turns us into fiends

Dirtbags to be cleaned

Sickies to be screened

Zombies quarantined

Brain dope

Gives us what we need

Alibis for greed

Sole survivor seed

Self-extinction creed