In every case, there is a sorrow
Attached to advancing age,
And the decline attendant upon it,
Decline physical, mental, emotional,
In every case, there is a sorrow.

But somehow, there is a special sorrow,
In the pathetic tears
Of an ageing man,
Looking back at the thousand plus follies
Of a stupidly misspent youth,

But somehow there is a special sorrow,
Attached to those who look back
With eyes filled with the tears
Of fathomless and torturous regret,
And of promise unfulfilled.

Red Cup Red Cup, colorless backdrop
Just filled with water as its poured with the last drop.
Red Cup, Red Cup all packed with water
But the Red cup gets picked up and cracks at the bottom.
Red Cup, Red Cup, but black and white all around
The man holds it up and a drop falls to the ground.
That drop that drop, like a slow motion  flood
Is thrown to the ground with an ominous thud.
Red cup, Red Cup, now past its peak fullness
As the man sheds a tear for his entire life’s dullness.

Autumn drops from the spit of summer.

It is brown, well-mealed,
perhaps a little burnt;
its plush resplendencies are gone,
its fruits are split.

That spring, that summer
grimace in a scattering of husks, a wizened apple,
is unbearable;

and at the core:
pipped deaths, abbreviations, futures going hard.

That hot-blooded youth
Expired at last
Cold grease-fire ashes
Just soot on the soul.

Where are the children
And where are the wives
Where are the stocked-up answers
For the rest of his life?

Here is the bourbon
Here is the wine
There the eyes sparkle
But the limbs have all declined.

His speech is fiery
His decisions forthright
But where there was once a cuff to the cheek
There is grasping for a cane.

I respect the man
I acknowledge his might
It's death I despise
And its sapping of rights.

Created to destroy us there deadly poisonous, you pay for it, you pray to quit, but truth be told, you cant kick it. ******* these cancer sticks, that are sold through out our nation. Purposely designed for the decline of our population.  

I'm just another victim with the sickness, no stoping now addiction. This poem is called addicted, for those who smoke the death sticks, of tobacco but try to quit.

Its a habit you cant lift, and even packaged like a gift. Just try one have it, light another with matches. I started smoking to fit in, then it developed into a habit. These demons in a pack of 20, constrict my lungs and turn them black. I know the risks yet still I smoke, why must I buy this pack.

The illusion of freedom
in a democratic republic in decline

Can't* is a word I refuse to comprehend.

Can't does not exist in my vocabulary.
Not if I intend to live fearlessly.

Can't and Fear feed off each other like fire and air.
The two will dance and expand,
Spread to the last corner and inches of my land.

Can and Faith are the words I will invest into my mind, body, and soul.

Can't will not enter into my mind,
For it might sit in my mouth,
And slip off my tongue.

Can't is a poison;
The everlasting **** to my garden.

Can't will destroy every blossom created,
And seize the seeds yet to sprout.

Can't has the power to end the action of planting.
I will never again see a flower, if I let Can't grow.

Can is the remedy to imagination and ingenuity.

Whereas,
Can't impedes and blocks creativity.

Can't eliminates possibilities,
It drains and empties.

Even the most tenacious sea
Could not withstand the
Dehydration of Can’t

Can't ignites negativity, creating an immobilization and inability to try.

Can't creates an ending before there was a chance for beginning.

Can't breeds the misbelief of failure, even if there was never to be a winner.

In many ways,
Can't is the biggest lie created from out mind.

Mis-be-LIE-f



But if I were to look on the inside,

I'd rather give myself a fighting chance,
Then quit before I start
because of the word Can’t


We will be faced with new challenges each day,
New obstacles will arise and come into play

Life has an abundance of what we must overcome,
I would hate to make myself the enemy,
Be the one standing in front of a self-created machine gun.

If I were to approach the word for all that it is
It is after all,
Just a word.

I would let a word dictate and decide
The choices, risks, and chances taken in life.


Seems unbalanced
That one word can have full access
To my thoughts and actions.

There
The infinite possibilities
in the World and Me.

If the only difference between Can and Can’t
Stands an Apostrophe and T,
Then I choose to remove
The contraction entirely.

If you still don’t believe
How destructive Can’t can be
Here are a few synonyms for contraction as taken from Wiki:
“shrinkage, decline, diminution, decrease”.

None of those words seems appealing to me.
All of those words will devour my dreams.

Which is why Can’t is a word
I refuse to comprehend.