I'm one of those
who when stubs his toes
upon life's uneven path
Blames his woes
on make-believe foes
or God's unlikely wrath

There are mornings
Upon my awakening
When a new day’s been granted
And it’s there for the taking
I assemble myself
From bad parts off a shelf
My house of cards stands
But not without shaking

White represents
The innocence of birth
Never the slate so clean
Black represents
The contemplation of death
Red all the passion between

The hours are always elapsing
No matter how idle their passing
There in Time's pages
Everyone ages
'til nothing is done without gasping

Was it the best of times?
Or the worst of times?
Maybe it’s best
That we look at the past
Through rose-colored glass
And let sleeping dogs lie

In pulling my shrinking underwear on
I noticed again that my feet were gone
All I could see was disgusting flab
So I bellowed this out like Captain Ahab
"**** thee whale!"

Sometimes it seems to me
that the world walks
with a big limp of hypocrisy