I was well-armed,
And I dug in.
Bolted the garrison gates,
Posted my defences on turrets
Of pity and self-loathing;
Attacked with self-righteousness
And posturing.
After the expected one hundred years,
You retreated and fled,
Yet I awaited another on-slaught,
Sharpened my sticks,
Mounded my stones,
Prepared for a signal.
The Keep has long fallen,
The moat is weedy and dry,
But I've left the drawbridge down,
Dismissed my guards,
Examined my scars.
I am a veteran of domestic wars,
With no benefits.

I remember a time long ago
When each person carried emotional baggage in tow
We held friend and family member equally dear
Kissed every cheek and wiped away every tear
Now we lie cruel and rotting under the sun
Devoid of any sparks or pangs of fun
We’ve forgotten our righteous ways
Seek therapy from bad decisions and ashtrays
All sense of the common good is delivered through slow reactions
Overshadowed by emerald greed and ***-soaked distractions
I’ve tried to convince my children of the change
They just look at me as an old dog ripe with mange
To all my loved ones who have died
I can at least mutter "I tried"
I suppose it’s about time to scrape hope up and wash it down the drain
Sit out on my porch, feet propped up, watching society fall like rain

Old selves die easily.
They whine their superseded demands
And the winds of change
Blow buildings down on them.

Or slide into a warm bath of contentment
And gasp out their last as the water drains,
Marooning them like bathtoys of despair.

One has expired in my arms.
His face turns to smoke
Like a ghost beginning to form.

Tenderly, I drag him to the backyard
To hide him with the others.
I mark where they’re buried
So oblivion knows where to find them.