You've not learnt how,
Just how to apologise,
Instead you're rude,
Words like a scythe,
And you expect immediate forgiveness.
Well, that’s not how it works,
That’s really not how it works.

I was born in 1990,
Only 8 days shy of 1991.

Still, I am Generation Y.

She was born in 2000,
Nearly 6 weeks into it.

She's Generation Z.

Still, she responded to me,
Actually her mother did.

The matrimonial ad.

My parents had flashed it,
In a timely manner, they hoped,
That I can be married.

So, I went to their home,
I liked her for her youth.
And of course her eyes.

She was truthful and frank too.
She told me what she wanted,
She wanted a mature man.

When I told her that I was an artist,
She loved my poetry,
And commended my creations.

Soon that 'misunderstanding' happened,
And the Miss felt she was standing under,
To equate herself with me, she berated me.

Oh, I do want to marry her still,
Because in her I see a lot of potential,
But she'll have to change her behaviour.

And as she can't change,
Things she will have to realise.
I don't think that she can apologise.

There's a generation gap between us,
And the next generation can't say sorry,
Or just accept their mistake with humility.

to quote a generation, “Whatever…”

history will mark the day this uselessness
is forever banned, this day will be paraded
along the Avenue where astronauts feted,
Super bowl heroes greeted in tall canyons,
no more ticker tape, will shred them invoices
marked overdue,  so they will remain status
unchanged, but whatever will be part and
parcel of the disparaged disappeared, for
it insults the recipient twice as much as the
mutterer utterer, for why not say, best direct,
I disrespect us both and won’t give a moment
to consider what you’ve stated, afraid, that exercising a
right to minimal modicum of caring will die out
with that generation, and we will spake a loud
Aleleuya,
and all will answer with feeling,  
with a smiling thumbs up,
and W. Whitman will join in…



11:40am
Sun May 25, 2024

A few years ago, he was just a kid
Now a man, he comes back to fight
The demons and ghouls he came to rid
To help the town see light

He died the second he crossed
The town went under and away
The remains grew covered in moss
His wife received word and had nothing to say

His family continued to live
Although he was in their thoughts everyday
They lived modest, thankful for what he had left to give
Often visits were made to the site of decay

His kid learned the lessons he didn’t
A leader by birth, he brought the town together
He raised twice the army his father sought
They learned to adapt and change such as the weather

A few years ago, he was just a kid
Now a man, he came back to fight
The demons and ghouls he came to rid
To ensure the town sees the light