#senile - Hello Poetry

Personal. Me, I gotta assume you are. aware I live with grandchildren, the old fashioned way oldness is taken care of as it occurs to me. It gives me an edge on others. Reader, dear if you know my work, your price was dear indeed, as you know experience keeps a dear school, but such as I learned in no other. It was free. Now that I recall all the details with AI supplying victual literal mods on my new wine memory spigot spigot, this was invented, faucets we called 'm, then this old man, white hair, a hoary head, they call it, up north, where there ain't no mo' morning dew, but there is frost, beautiful crystals sifting unseeable beauty forms in light, during the night empowered by the cold, this frozen beauty cartoons cannot convey, though if you sing it like a child, dancing with yourself in the mirror, on grandma's closet old men may only imagine the dance, or see it, that once that child's unblemished wish to sing and dance, but not in snow. No, only here now. She sees me see her in the mirror.

0

Apr 5, 2021

Apr 5, 2021 at 4:41 PM UTC

kenpepiton

I saw a Degas, live

Personal. Me, I gotta assume you are. aware I live with grandchildren, the old fashioned way oldness is taken care of as it occurs to me. It gives me an edge on others. Reader, dear if you know my work, your price was dear indeed, as you know experience keeps a dear school, but such as I learned in no other. It was free. Now that I recall all the details with AI supplying victual literal mods on my new wine memory spigot spigot, this was invented, faucets we called 'm, then this old man, white hair, a hoary head, they call it, up north, where there ain't no mo' morning dew, but there is frost, beautiful crystals sifting unseeable beauty forms in light, during the night empowered by the cold, this frozen beauty cartoons cannot convey, though if you sing it like a child, dancing with yourself in the mirror, on grandma's closet old men may only imagine the dance, or see it, that once that child's unblemished wish to sing and dance, but not in snow. No, only here now. She sees me see her in the mirror.

33

set the scene, you are old. As old as any one you ever knew. Locked in isolated for the incubation of whatever they they they, these masked others, I see eyes only, like if Lone Ranger were inside out, where his mask is, is eyes and their fleshy environs to the edge of brows, still effectively arching, one by one in some models of these hoo-min… beings whatever they swabbed in my gnose… is working… Things morphevolverevolve and twist to catch a beam slipping past the shades, see, there in your eye, I see, that mote be me, my self, might I extract my self and leave you wishing for more?

0

Dec 18, 2020

Dec 18, 2020 at 4:00 PM UTC

kenpepiton

Quarantine, in the nursing home

set the scene, you are old. As old as any one you ever knew. Locked in isolated for the incubation of whatever they they they, these masked others, I see eyes only, like if Lone Ranger were inside out, where his mask is, is eyes and their fleshy environs to the edge of brows, still effectively arching, one by one in some models of these hoo-min… beings whatever they swabbed in my gnose… is working… Things morphevolverevolve and twist to catch a beam slipping past the shades, see, there in your eye, I see, that mote be me, my self, might I extract my self and leave you wishing for more?

20

We hold these truths, there is a Zebra tree on a tiny island in Lake Wanaka on the relatively large island called New Zealand. Nation is not a valid variable to sort on. So here, we sort worth on agreeing we are equally Natives of Earth. First yes. More yeses follow. Learn what you have done. Know what you are doing. Be good, let the bruised flesh not rise in hot pride, see we all are involved in evolving into ever better, so we think, perhaps, others aboard my ark also think. We are equal in this realm, each mind joined junction branch root, not from billions and billions of Jahre zuvor, წლების წინ ts’lebis ts’in { Georgian script looks magic, eh} Secrets in tongues died with the last word, spoken toward unhearing ears, … is it reality interrupting or knocking needs gumming up the works… -------- Field-wide signal, crisp and clear, some fell on idle minds, that's fine , signal how are you. You say, responsibly, My side is winning. No one ever asks what that means. The field the world, war is the only story, Walt imagined, he was infected, Whitman, with a known' opinion -- some wise and well-known -- being arisen from behind the ivied walls - I heard this in passing, - anonymous did not say this: the function for the sublime is to free us from the slavery of pleasure - on another vector, I heard this: the need to heal violence, forces life into idle words used maliciously, in tests of conscience-useness. Poverty never hears the highest minded reasons for the states of mind attempted by the most curious among us --- empty of the wy. ha… I don' know I glanced away stat tic… what's missing? --- its like any other day, it ends with me entranced by the play of winds with dust and smoke and water droplets too light to fall, I take instant HDR images as the time passes and the art appears, as if for me alone, I am the only mental being seeing this, I have proof, I'll show you, someday, maybe… but today, I got took t' school, behind the gated mental institution, geni-used magi-like instinct-gut spirit-vapor -- rumor has it, I went mad caused by you or me, I can't say. But just the other day, I was thinking, you may remember my sunsets, you would have noticed them when you stole my weedeater. -------- No school of the prophets foresaw my death, so far as I may know, I am by chance, bon chance, living in lines of consequential events. And my birth was a quirk of circumstances. As special as any multi cellular creature, if the statisticians are aiming at the proper means of measuring. There remain professors who teach man is the measure of all things, wrong, in my opinion. Ha. I said that. Like to Cambridge, it's image in my immaterial realm where all things men agreed to use for ever after, are similar in effect to the Ghostbusters Marshmallow role. My fingerprint is less than nine points similar to your fingerprint, no matter who you are. We are equals in that regard, our self is commonly unique, as we are. Our kind. We, the people of Earth. The native species, Whumo Sapient Sapiens is us. Knowers that know. Thinkers that think we know. There is no they behind the curtain knowing anything that you may not know as much as you can swallow, a bit per quantasec, after chewing fifty years. In this medium, it's me and you, object, subject, reject defect if then or else find that more perfect union, that knot that binds our minds in agreement, this is that which has no religious name, save good and plenty… not the candy, but that's cool, I thought that, too. We, me and you, since we think alike, we could make up a mind and invite others to take parts in grand epic dramas of ever learning, war never has arisen on a reason that reasons rationally valanced toward life, and that, more abundantly… Now, see those greedy folks, look real close, see. You never see such a one, with a satisfied mind, ever learning, never knowing everything, happy as hell from a Sisyphean POV

0

Nov 21, 2020

Nov 21, 2020 at 9:11 PM UTC

kenpepiton

A quirk of circumstance

We hold these truths, there is a Zebra tree on a tiny island in Lake Wanaka on the relatively large island called New Zealand. Nation is not a valid variable to sort on. So here, we sort worth on agreeing we are equally Natives of Earth. First yes. More yeses follow. Learn what you have done. Know what you are doing. Be good, let the bruised flesh not rise in hot pride, see we all are involved in evolving into ever better, so we think, perhaps, others aboard my ark also think. We are equal in this realm, each mind joined junction branch root, not from billions and billions of Jahre zuvor, წლების წინ ts’lebis ts’in { Georgian script looks magic, eh} Secrets in tongues died with the last word, spoken toward unhearing ears, … is it reality interrupting or knocking needs gumming up the works… -------- Field-wide signal, crisp and clear, some fell on idle minds, that's fine , signal how are you. You say, responsibly, My side is winning. No one ever asks what that means. The field the world, war is the only story, Walt imagined, he was infected, Whitman, with a known' opinion -- some wise and well-known -- being arisen from behind the ivied walls - I heard this in passing, - anonymous did not say this: the function for the sublime is to free us from the slavery of pleasure - on another vector, I heard this: the need to heal violence, forces life into idle words used maliciously, in tests of conscience-useness. Poverty never hears the highest minded reasons for the states of mind attempted by the most curious among us --- empty of the wy. ha… I don' know I glanced away stat tic… what's missing? --- its like any other day, it ends with me entranced by the play of winds with dust and smoke and water droplets too light to fall, I take instant HDR images as the time passes and the art appears, as if for me alone, I am the only mental being seeing this, I have proof, I'll show you, someday, maybe… but today, I got took t' school, behind the gated mental institution, geni-used magi-like instinct-gut spirit-vapor -- rumor has it, I went mad caused by you or me, I can't say. But just the other day, I was thinking, you may remember my sunsets, you would have noticed them when you stole my weedeater. -------- No school of the prophets foresaw my death, so far as I may know, I am by chance, bon chance, living in lines of consequential events. And my birth was a quirk of circumstances. As special as any multi cellular creature, if the statisticians are aiming at the proper means of measuring. There remain professors who teach man is the measure of all things, wrong, in my opinion. Ha. I said that. Like to Cambridge, it's image in my immaterial realm where all things men agreed to use for ever after, are similar in effect to the Ghostbusters Marshmallow role. My fingerprint is less than nine points similar to your fingerprint, no matter who you are. We are equals in that regard, our self is commonly unique, as we are. Our kind. We, the people of Earth. The native species, Whumo Sapient Sapiens is us. Knowers that know. Thinkers that think we know. There is no they behind the curtain knowing anything that you may not know as much as you can swallow, a bit per quantasec, after chewing fifty years. In this medium, it's me and you, object, subject, reject defect if then or else find that more perfect union, that knot that binds our minds in agreement, this is that which has no religious name, save good and plenty… not the candy, but that's cool, I thought that, too. We, me and you, since we think alike, we could make up a mind and invite others to take parts in grand epic dramas of ever learning, war never has arisen on a reason that reasons rationally valanced toward life, and that, more abundantly… Now, see those greedy folks, look real close, see. You never see such a one, with a satisfied mind, ever learning, never knowing everything, happy as hell from a Sisyphean POV

121

This year near now later as I slide into safe for the feeling, never once in real life as they call the experience of mortal ripening misspellts corrected asgoodas magigic tstsefly sleepy sick o hno this is that book louis said it sounds like science fiction --- but you init lou look it's that guy who married your mom and rescued your from the cult, fundamentally, with no regard for the damage I just knew. Okeh, we were caught in a net we did not know exists. Evil in its e-sense, virtual balnce factor intended to keep good in constant chessish cheshirish grin cheque, en garde, to point a fault in the plan… ellipses suffice for a minor re spect to authors admitting un belief of most order quired fixt ac-counting tual vir-beginning ever things, with no withdrawal date, the riches pile up so hitchenslipped in the bull Creflo Dollar, props, brohawny black ****** mofoe than fren in the end, y'did your proper whatever you knew in your self right right it just feels wrong jets, ball'n'f'Jeesus, risen above the fray, in Beulah Land, c'mon childrens, t'all join me walk wit jesus hear me say ain't another way I know and you know, I cain't lie nonono chile my heart be fixt fixt means, ain broke no joke, blowin hard hard har on that deep left end blue bleu sacre bleu I best rest and find mind gone a wander why you hear? Both, heare, here and hear, oft stretched to cover to means of leaking wwwwu. we may, as we the corpus hoct to pay some debt somebody never owed, an oath to believe a lie is true, I absolve you. You are free to no longer bher the burden of eventually accounting for every, every, every ever sworn idle word lock for ever int the con fused wicks match lock candles, we did not know if this went to now, when we have these magic pens and broad bands of reading minds finding threads we share, ideas at bare word level, down to actual jots, breath commas, some call them but readers of many [paradigms of mind] novels, realize their roles with shame, venting noxious fumes for [that verted joy fools floods of test-toss-or be owned}}}protein trigger me a fu ture sure thing ding Those genes that code for proteins are composed of tri-nucleotide units called codons, each coding for a single amino acid. Each nucleotide sub-unit consists of a phosphate, deoxyribose sugar and one of the 4 nitrogenous nucleotide bases. The purine bases adenine (A) and guanine (G) are larger and consist of two aromatic rings. The pyrimidine bases cytosine (C) and thymine (T) are smaller and consist of only one aromatic ring. In the double-helix configuration, two strands of DNA are joined to each other by hydrogen bonds in an arrangement known as base pairing. From <https://www.sciencedaily.com/terms/genetic_code.htm#:~:targetText=The%20genome%20of%20an%20organism,for%20a%20single%20amino%20acid.> Can we stand up right balanced, okeh. This ain't anybodies idea of hell, except the one Mormon guy who told me Morman worst ell, tellestial kingdom, was so much better than now that if god let you see it, you would die to get there. Time will tell. Keep the pressure on, high speed chase scarios are not torture, they only feel like lift off, oh shitunexpected floatin ches above the idea of enjoyment as an occupation. Peacemaking, as an occupation, occupying until now we gather, at the river and laugh laugh laugh alladem rules and reg ulah stuff, gwa n on ol woids wise womb man know gnosticious suspicious auspicity perspicacity capacity to tttalk sit no stutification evacuation of I can't remember. But grandpa, remember, Siri knows, ask her. 2019 wandering away from the ol'fo'khome ain't the adventure it once was past the edges of all the known in the world. My 8 yr old grand daughter put a locater spell on my converged network node if I manifest in odd realms she has Siri steer me to bed. The future is as good as I imagined, but I'm not the guy about to die while wondering what he missed that everyone else knew from the womb.

0

Nov 21, 2019

Nov 21, 2019 at 11:51 PM UTC

kenpepiton

A lighten up follow up on Truth Serummmm

This year near now later as I slide into safe for the feeling, never once in real life as they call the experience of mortal ripening misspellts corrected asgoodas magigic tstsefly sleepy sick o hno this is that book louis said it sounds like science fiction --- but you init lou look it's that guy who married your mom and rescued your from the cult, fundamentally, with no regard for the damage I just knew. Okeh, we were caught in a net we did not know exists. Evil in its e-sense, virtual balnce factor intended to keep good in constant chessish cheshirish grin cheque, en garde, to point a fault in the plan… ellipses suffice for a minor re spect to authors admitting un belief of most order quired fixt ac-counting tual vir-beginning ever things, with no withdrawal date, the riches pile up so hitchenslipped in the bull Creflo Dollar, props, brohawny black ****** mofoe than fren in the end, y'did your proper whatever you knew in your self right right it just feels wrong jets, ball'n'f'Jeesus, risen above the fray, in Beulah Land, c'mon childrens, t'all join me walk wit jesus hear me say ain't another way I know and you know, I cain't lie nonono chile my heart be fixt fixt means, ain broke no joke, blowin hard hard har on that deep left end blue bleu sacre bleu I best rest and find mind gone a wander why you hear? Both, heare, here and hear, oft stretched to cover to means of leaking wwwwu. we may, as we the corpus hoct to pay some debt somebody never owed, an oath to believe a lie is true, I absolve you. You are free to no longer bher the burden of eventually accounting for every, every, every ever sworn idle word lock for ever int the con fused wicks match lock candles, we did not know if this went to now, when we have these magic pens and broad bands of reading minds finding threads we share, ideas at bare word level, down to actual jots, breath commas, some call them but readers of many [paradigms of mind] novels, realize their roles with shame, venting noxious fumes for [that verted joy fools floods of test-toss-or be owned}}}protein trigger me a fu ture sure thing ding Those genes that code for proteins are composed of tri-nucleotide units called codons, each coding for a single amino acid. Each nucleotide sub-unit consists of a phosphate, deoxyribose sugar and one of the 4 nitrogenous nucleotide bases. The purine bases adenine (A) and guanine (G) are larger and consist of two aromatic rings. The pyrimidine bases cytosine (C) and thymine (T) are smaller and consist of only one aromatic ring. In the double-helix configuration, two strands of DNA are joined to each other by hydrogen bonds in an arrangement known as base pairing. From <https://www.sciencedaily.com/terms/genetic_code.htm#:~:targetText=The%20genome%20of%20an%20organism,for%20a%20single%20amino%20acid.> Can we stand up right balanced, okeh. This ain't anybodies idea of hell, except the one Mormon guy who told me Morman worst ell, tellestial kingdom, was so much better than now that if god let you see it, you would die to get there. Time will tell. Keep the pressure on, high speed chase scarios are not torture, they only feel like lift off, oh shitunexpected floatin ches above the idea of enjoyment as an occupation. Peacemaking, as an occupation, occupying until now we gather, at the river and laugh laugh laugh alladem rules and reg ulah stuff, gwa n on ol woids wise womb man know gnosticious suspicious auspicity perspicacity capacity to tttalk sit no stutification evacuation of I can't remember. But grandpa, remember, Siri knows, ask her. 2019 wandering away from the ol'fo'khome ain't the adventure it once was past the edges of all the known in the world. My 8 yr old grand daughter put a locater spell on my converged network node if I manifest in odd realms she has Siri steer me to bed. The future is as good as I imagined, but I'm not the guy about to die while wondering what he missed that everyone else knew from the womb.

104

Inter change able duet, imaginary song on imaginary waves of old AM Rain and country women Mmmm there musta been a plan there I swear what rain does to country women Had to have been planned by a God lovin' country mind Mmmm yeah musta been a plan there Rain and country women Rain and country women Rain and country women Mmmm yeah musta been a plan there I swear what rain does to country women Had to have been planned by a God lovin' country mind Slow, deep old Grandpa voice, early in the mornin' song, as the coffee comes t' life in the kitchen, drip-rythmic, life-goes-on song this next ok hummin and strummin the bax ok harmonic soft This song could go on and on since it has you know Grandpa listened, sittin' on the porch to the rhythm of the falling rain recalling the chorus and the break And Gramma told my pretty city born bride about MMM Hmmm right, that rainy night... there I swear what rain does to country women Had to have been planned by a God lovin' country man. Grandpa looked at grandma, and she winked.

0

Nov 17, 2019

Nov 17, 2019 at 1:39 PM UTC

kenpepiton

What rain does t' country women

Inter change able duet, imaginary song on imaginary waves of old AM Rain and country women Mmmm there musta been a plan there I swear what rain does to country women Had to have been planned by a God lovin' country mind Mmmm yeah musta been a plan there Rain and country women Rain and country women Rain and country women Mmmm yeah musta been a plan there I swear what rain does to country women Had to have been planned by a God lovin' country mind Slow, deep old Grandpa voice, early in the mornin' song, as the coffee comes t' life in the kitchen, drip-rythmic, life-goes-on song this next ok hummin and strummin the bax ok harmonic soft This song could go on and on since it has you know Grandpa listened, sittin' on the porch to the rhythm of the falling rain recalling the chorus and the break And Gramma told my pretty city born bride about MMM Hmmm right, that rainy night... there I swear what rain does to country women Had to have been planned by a God lovin' country man. Grandpa looked at grandma, and she winked.

39

Playing gods, or these unthingable things men have made as real, Yes, Asrael, as real as Israel El, Yah, we say. We dateamtrutotau taos-itic branch which reminds me, I was asking Ithiel, properly, why we don't just stay in these higher realms, way up stratos pheric mare's tales, I think I heard those called… and look higher still, an other-form of cloud, the butter milk sky kind drifting to Arizona, in 1967 by sundown, for two pre-hippy no-longer-children one of the desert joined one from the great sea of grass where buffalo once roamed and never was heard a dis couraging word QR code scanned- Quite Real Verified Bio id est, it did lead here. A semenal moment, in current reality. Suppose, you make the mandela, having never been exposed to the making of such a thing, having never seen the similarity of the forces forming sand paintings in Tibet and Taos Art Ifiers Intuitions see things flow words pick up dust by being signifiers of sounds heavy hearts hear no rock and role-play tragicom psyche, eh? we be weary o' bein' wary so we speak out anarchical as all hell's ever imagined upto now or everafter, words is free to mean as I mean, nomattawhacha thothewgnew this is past the sweeping apprentice and the self-willed broom, eons beyond Arnold being back AI am this which triggers the sound track with Gene Autry Back in the Saddle Again goin' for a spin in a dj mode no way okeh. Pauselah right quissssssssssense rest and reassure QR the same QR esme cu assumption of the ******* meme into 2019 accepted the game is not over. que the song there'll be time to start all over

0

Sep 25, 2019

Sep 25, 2019 at 7:31 PM UTC

kenpepiton

Leela: Game two

Playing gods, or these unthingable things men have made as real, Yes, Asrael, as real as Israel El, Yah, we say. We dateamtrutotau taos-itic branch which reminds me, I was asking Ithiel, properly, why we don't just stay in these higher realms, way up stratos pheric mare's tales, I think I heard those called… and look higher still, an other-form of cloud, the butter milk sky kind drifting to Arizona, in 1967 by sundown, for two pre-hippy no-longer-children one of the desert joined one from the great sea of grass where buffalo once roamed and never was heard a dis couraging word QR code scanned- Quite Real Verified Bio id est, it did lead here. A semenal moment, in current reality. Suppose, you make the mandela, having never been exposed to the making of such a thing, having never seen the similarity of the forces forming sand paintings in Tibet and Taos Art Ifiers Intuitions see things flow words pick up dust by being signifiers of sounds heavy hearts hear no rock and role-play tragicom psyche, eh? we be weary o' bein' wary so we speak out anarchical as all hell's ever imagined upto now or everafter, words is free to mean as I mean, nomattawhacha thothewgnew this is past the sweeping apprentice and the self-willed broom, eons beyond Arnold being back AI am this which triggers the sound track with Gene Autry Back in the Saddle Again goin' for a spin in a dj mode no way okeh. Pauselah right quissssssssssense rest and reassure QR the same QR esme cu assumption of the ******* meme into 2019 accepted the game is not over. que the song there'll be time to start all over

47

On an early Monday morn Into this world my mother bore me Although I never asked her to But still she bore me Into a hospital A patient Out of the train Onto the station The light, the air, The Decompression, No wonder that my first impression I can't remember, My mother thought I had a temper, The nurses watched my massive member, They put me down as baby boomer Yeah, I was born to be consumer But when I'm in my old age I hope to be if not the driver, Then at least the passenger Aren't we going somewhere? On holiday, perhaps? Where birds of paradise dance In savage colours And sing in dazzling trance, Where man's institutions are far away, Where banks don't feed on our flesh, Away from roaring trucks with pigs Set for slaughter, Away from downtown Bangladesh, Away from ugly neighbours And their children, Away into the sweet fresh air With no wifi No zombifying TV, No bling-bling chavs with one beat one key one theme music, Where the weather is tolerable And the scam of social media is no more, We will leave the choking fumes And strange wars... Except we won't, Cause that isn't where we go. Let's be realistic, We like postmodern world It's lovely masochistic, It takes out minds off questions That probe beyond statistics, Questions we don't even know how to phrase, But fools are always one step ahead, Delays make them enraged baboons, When I am in my old age I expect to see banners on the moon And clouds shaped by advertisers, Robot womanisers And insect appetisers, New ways to use fertilisers On human brains Making us none the wiser But great at analysing market value And levels of offensiveness. I hope you don't think that I'm implying That you will have something to do with this. I know you're all good people here.. It's the corporations, of course. Those classical psychopaths: Self interested Manipulative Always the best They prefer not to compete with the rest Nor accept responsibility, They suffer no conscience Feel no remorse And present superficial versions of themselves To the world, To the good people Who take on their traits Day by day Year by year Generation by generation Because .. you know .. Market forces and .. Hunger .. for .. something.. Progress something !... ..it's the right way! So what would you like to change? Is this really your pimple? When I am in my old age I would like to be simple I'll have my special armchair That will be the envy of all people, And I'd like to hope that something will be done About climate change But for that Israel needs to cease to exist As well as all the other countries, Old and new, And national symbolism must get relegated To the domain of underwear, swimming trunks and bathing towels, Where washing machines will eventually bleach it into oblivion, And the world must become truly global, Entering the space age United under redefined humanity! When I am in my old age, I still expect to see insanity on a global scale, People fishing in empty oceans Sailing their way to French Polynesia on raging 20 metre waves only to find French Polynesia somehow not there anymore.. I hope not to be a bore in my old age, I hope nostalgia won't be classed as a Disease And heavily medicalized. I hope suicide will be legal like bread I hope my head won't have the texture Of a woman's inner thigh, I hope my neck won't look like an accordion, I hope I won't be making involuntary noises Every time I lie down, And I hope to lie down between women's inner thighs From to time, Yeah, I really hope this can be arranged When I am in my old age Even if I smell of old people I hope the smell of old people will be **** I guarantee it will get very messy If they won't let me Take my pension money out all at once, I intend to own the stage Until my very last breath When I am in my old age I hope impending death won't make Religious, or spiritual, Whichever's worse.. When I am in my old age I fully expect hats to be in vogue again And smoking in airports And free range drugs When I am in my old age Maturity will triumph Over the teenage bugs With naked ankles and baseball caps, And the myth of youth will rightfully collapse, And I will order and convincing martini, Drive a convincing car, Snap a convicting finger at the waiter To the rhythm of swing played at the bar Somewhere close to the equator On some not-too-distant star I will be my own dictator, I'll be my own tsar And all will be jolly! Apart from all this I really have no worries. So let me get drunk and let the world laugh For there is a remedy for everything But death (and burning cathedrals) And as long as we are laughing We do not weep About the roses that we picked That even the sweetest showers Won't make grow again.

0

Apr 24, 2019

Apr 24, 2019 at 4:57 AM UTC

arthur-habsburg

When I am in my old age

On an early Monday morn Into this world my mother bore me Although I never asked her to But still she bore me Into a hospital A patient Out of the train Onto the station The light, the air, The Decompression, No wonder that my first impression I can't remember, My mother thought I had a temper, The nurses watched my massive member, They put me down as baby boomer Yeah, I was born to be consumer But when I'm in my old age I hope to be if not the driver, Then at least the passenger Aren't we going somewhere? On holiday, perhaps? Where birds of paradise dance In savage colours And sing in dazzling trance, Where man's institutions are far away, Where banks don't feed on our flesh, Away from roaring trucks with pigs Set for slaughter, Away from downtown Bangladesh, Away from ugly neighbours And their children, Away into the sweet fresh air With no wifi No zombifying TV, No bling-bling chavs with one beat one key one theme music, Where the weather is tolerable And the scam of social media is no more, We will leave the choking fumes And strange wars... Except we won't, Cause that isn't where we go. Let's be realistic, We like postmodern world It's lovely masochistic, It takes out minds off questions That probe beyond statistics, Questions we don't even know how to phrase, But fools are always one step ahead, Delays make them enraged baboons, When I am in my old age I expect to see banners on the moon And clouds shaped by advertisers, Robot womanisers And insect appetisers, New ways to use fertilisers On human brains Making us none the wiser But great at analysing market value And levels of offensiveness. I hope you don't think that I'm implying That you will have something to do with this. I know you're all good people here.. It's the corporations, of course. Those classical psychopaths: Self interested Manipulative Always the best They prefer not to compete with the rest Nor accept responsibility, They suffer no conscience Feel no remorse And present superficial versions of themselves To the world, To the good people Who take on their traits Day by day Year by year Generation by generation Because .. you know .. Market forces and .. Hunger .. for .. something.. Progress something !... ..it's the right way! So what would you like to change? Is this really your pimple? When I am in my old age I would like to be simple I'll have my special armchair That will be the envy of all people, And I'd like to hope that something will be done About climate change But for that Israel needs to cease to exist As well as all the other countries, Old and new, And national symbolism must get relegated To the domain of underwear, swimming trunks and bathing towels, Where washing machines will eventually bleach it into oblivion, And the world must become truly global, Entering the space age United under redefined humanity! When I am in my old age, I still expect to see insanity on a global scale, People fishing in empty oceans Sailing their way to French Polynesia on raging 20 metre waves only to find French Polynesia somehow not there anymore.. I hope not to be a bore in my old age, I hope nostalgia won't be classed as a Disease And heavily medicalized. I hope suicide will be legal like bread I hope my head won't have the texture Of a woman's inner thigh, I hope my neck won't look like an accordion, I hope I won't be making involuntary noises Every time I lie down, And I hope to lie down between women's inner thighs From to time, Yeah, I really hope this can be arranged When I am in my old age Even if I smell of old people I hope the smell of old people will be **** I guarantee it will get very messy If they won't let me Take my pension money out all at once, I intend to own the stage Until my very last breath When I am in my old age I hope impending death won't make Religious, or spiritual, Whichever's worse.. When I am in my old age I fully expect hats to be in vogue again And smoking in airports And free range drugs When I am in my old age Maturity will triumph Over the teenage bugs With naked ankles and baseball caps, And the myth of youth will rightfully collapse, And I will order and convincing martini, Drive a convincing car, Snap a convicting finger at the waiter To the rhythm of swing played at the bar Somewhere close to the equator On some not-too-distant star I will be my own dictator, I'll be my own tsar And all will be jolly! Apart from all this I really have no worries. So let me get drunk and let the world laugh For there is a remedy for everything But death (and burning cathedrals) And as long as we are laughing We do not weep About the roses that we picked That even the sweetest showers Won't make grow again.

162

If the day shall come that I should forget you and all that we've become, If the day shall come that I'm senile, Just know because of the way you smile I'd fall all over again, but if it happens to cause you too much pain, by all means, my dear, I hope you'll choose to find happiness elsewhere. You're the love of my life but if Alzheimer's should rob my memory of being your loving wife, please know I still only want you to be happy for the rest of your life. ~with love, your wife ~SacredInkedBlood ©2018

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Sep 27, 2018

Sep 27, 2018 at 12:56 AM UTC

SacredInkedBlood

"Memory Robbed" written by me on Sept262018© Venjencie Arnold/SacredInkedBlood

If the day shall come that I should forget you and all that we've become, If the day shall come that I'm senile, Just know because of the way you smile I'd fall all over again, but if it happens to cause you too much pain, by all means, my dear, I hope you'll choose to find happiness elsewhere. You're the love of my life but if Alzheimer's should rob my memory of being your loving wife, please know I still only want you to be happy for the rest of your life. ~with love, your wife ~SacredInkedBlood ©2018

14

No, this isn't some petty tale about a knight in shining armour So if that's what you came here for I apologise for shattering those poorly preconceived notions I would like to give you a little insight on the side That never gets a chance to explain Everyone wants their happy ending No one wants to marry the guy who claims to have a dream And yet is still slaving away in someone's backyard But he has a dream right? And if I know my fairytales, dreams always come true He may be your prince Charming all it takes is a bibidibobidiboo and there you have it? Wrong! Prince Charming's don't wait at every car-for-hire And we all want the big ticket In that regard heroes and villains are all alike We are just willing to go completely out of our way to get what we want Hurt a few people along the way, yes But why sacrifice my happiness for yours? No! you say, the villains never win And folks you couldn't be more right Cinderella gets the guy and Snow White her Kingdom But there's a catch, there always has been, You've just been too occupied on the glass slipper to see the twisted truth. It was never about Sleeping Beauty But about the curse I know the villains never win But it was never about winning Because we are always at the final chapter while you're stuck somewhere in chapter 3 The small steps you take forwards To a finish line we put in place, We don't really care, Because I know we never win It was always about how many of you I got to take down with me.

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Feb 14, 2016

Feb 14, 2016 at 1:09 AM UTC

LeY

From a Retired Villain

No, this isn't some petty tale about a knight in shining armour So if that's what you came here for I apologise for shattering those poorly preconceived notions I would like to give you a little insight on the side That never gets a chance to explain Everyone wants their happy ending No one wants to marry the guy who claims to have a dream And yet is still slaving away in someone's backyard But he has a dream right? And if I know my fairytales, dreams always come true He may be your prince Charming all it takes is a bibidibobidiboo and there you have it? Wrong! Prince Charming's don't wait at every car-for-hire And we all want the big ticket In that regard heroes and villains are all alike We are just willing to go completely out of our way to get what we want Hurt a few people along the way, yes But why sacrifice my happiness for yours? No! you say, the villains never win And folks you couldn't be more right Cinderella gets the guy and Snow White her Kingdom But there's a catch, there always has been, You've just been too occupied on the glass slipper to see the twisted truth. It was never about Sleeping Beauty But about the curse I know the villains never win But it was never about winning Because we are always at the final chapter while you're stuck somewhere in chapter 3 The small steps you take forwards To a finish line we put in place, We don't really care, Because I know we never win It was always about how many of you I got to take down with me.

32

A brown drool of dew Crackling woven's clue sitting on a desk pike adjacent copies alike But still he sits and gapes on the old momento he keepsakes with sober hands that rests and of mellow smith's vest on a creaky chair with a pendulum clock and a photograph he holds dear as four seasons pass by the dreary wedlock Through a thin-tormented picture shallow eyes become ruddy like an ill-fated venture The lost of his Mrs. and laddie that dim sullen memento of his in that old wan home is what brings him bliss but locked inside a semi-finite dome -he is-

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Feb 6, 2015

Feb 6, 2015 at 5:26 AM UTC

mark-lambert

Vivid Momentous

A brown drool of dew Crackling woven's clue sitting on a desk pike adjacent copies alike But still he sits and gapes on the old momento he keepsakes with sober hands that rests and of mellow smith's vest on a creaky chair with a pendulum clock and a photograph he holds dear as four seasons pass by the dreary wedlock Through a thin-tormented picture shallow eyes become ruddy like an ill-fated venture The lost of his Mrs. and laddie that dim sullen memento of his in that old wan home is what brings him bliss but locked inside a semi-finite dome -he is-

21

Proud, Curious. She steps forward. Taking in the sight of the beast. Cautious, Senile. She growls darkly. Alerting it's peers. She doth take yes, Nay to No. Proud, Curious. She goes onward. Into the world.

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Aug 14, 2014

Aug 14, 2014 at 4:10 PM UTC

julie-kirby

Into the World

Proud, Curious. She steps forward. Taking in the sight of the beast. Cautious, Senile. She growls darkly. Alerting it's peers. She doth take yes, Nay to No. Proud, Curious. She goes onward. Into the world.

11