“The times they are a-changing”
Guess I’m growin’ older fast
Had a **** good time one summer,
But summers never last.

“Ah, but I was so much older then”
Rip van Winkle shared his drink with me
Woke up; thought we were younger
But the village disagreed.

“Like a rolling stone”
I never stayed on the top of any hill
Got no regrets to mention
But I prob’ly sometime will.

“Blowin’ in the wind”
Seeds from a weeping willow tree
Never knowin’ where they might end up
But it’s the same **** thing with me.

“All I really want to do”
Before I end up in the dirt
Is beg everyone’s forgiveness
But there’s too many I hurt.

“A hard rain’s a-gonna fall”
For now it’s beatin’ on my head
Soon it’ll pound down on my grave
But by that time I’ll be dead.

“Long and wasted years”
Came along and passed me by
Yeah I kinda miss the summer
But I ain’t had time to cry.

“I wear dark glasses to cover my eyes”
Can’t believe the things I’ve seen
Still, I’d pretend that I was younger
But Dylan’s on AARP magazine.
PwL 3/31/15

The perfectionist
Sees an open circle,
And closes it.
The obsessionist
Sees an open circle,
And studies it.

The monk shows me the scar
where he took the bullet
the 70s fiery rebel
is now a Shiva-ite by faith.

I try to see in his eyes
remnant of youth’s spark
believing the fire never dies
from time now buried in the dark.

The March wind blows the dust
banyan trunks make a cool shade
in the lull he relieves a past
no way could he obliterate.

A time was I held a gun
the police was hot on my trail
day night I was on the run
in the pride of being a rebel.

Cast shadows an eerie silence
now evening could no longer wait
I wave to him from a distance
Shiva waits on him to meditate.

Death is not as horrible
as it is said to be.

It relieves many people
burdened by this world
and its inhabitants.

Death causes people
to come closer than
any other time.

Death teaches us all
lessons that we are
too stubborn to learn.

Death frees people
from the expectations
and the frustrations.

Death gives us all
a sense of caution
we never had previously.

But at the same time,
Death makes us cry,
rage, despair, and
suffer.

It makes the people
around you and your
loved ones suffer.

When I asked him how old was he
Giving a mischievous wink
Said won’t tell you straightly
But in a riddle to think!

If you add up the digits of that year
Multiply it by three
You would be almost there
But not there exactly!

Three more to it you’ve to add
And that’s my age no doubt
You would make me really glad
If can figure that out!

The two digits that make my age
Have a difference of one
You’ve enough clues to the maze
To work out my age with fun!

The digits added is short of ten
But from one too far
Would you now take the pain
To make my age clear?

i believed
in breathing
until i realized
every breath
i take
brings me
closer
to death

Though the days ramble on
and the years move ahead
a mind that grows old
is the one thing that I dread

A mind should stay young
the negative severed
keeping a fresh attitude
that we can cherish forever

Growing old
and growing older
to me they're two different things
the one is as winter
while the other
still spring

Sitting in a waiting room,
I envied the young
With children,
Reading.
The door opened
To an octogen,
Who looked at me
And remembered when.

~

over or under,
it's all the flap;
the ins and outs
enough to make
a guy snap.
seriously folks,
whats all the yap
bout how you roll
in the cleanup of “that”?
wish everyone
would try to relax;
your fuss is enough to
make an addict relapse!
those who are saying
"you gotta adapt,"
i say, "don’t gotta!" and,
"they’re full of crap!"
cuz no matter
the direction, it
still beats burlap!
so however you like
for the roll to unwrap,
please can't we agree to
roll with it, baby?
i think that somebody
needs to chillax!

~

*post script.

just in case anyone wondered if this writer could be anything but serious and sad...  http://diply.com/different-solutions/over-vs-under-toilet-paper-debate/106314