"retort" poems
You're the Wacky Wolf-man,
Tearing through our pages with a single huff.
Breathing life into us little piggies,
Blasting your way through the daily fluff.
You're the Word Wizard.
Leaving us in awe and in dribbles.
Waving your wand,
Conjuring magical and spellbinding scribbles.
You're the Living Legend,
Almost like a deity of some sort.
Garnering shiploads of admiration,
Through words of encouragement, banter and retort.
You're the Bad Boy Bard...
Never mincing your words.
Unconventional, you howl amidst the flocks...
You never did chirp like the birds...
You're the Minstrel Mobster,
Shooting your Tommy, never missing.
Flicking forward your fedora,
Strung lute ever smoking.
You're one Cool Cat.
Fending off haters with a bat.
Everyone just wants to be that.
Like a superhero whose symbol is a bat...
You're a Gem Generator.
Cogs and gears churning the jewels laid
Machine malfunction! My system's jammed!
Well I guess that's just it... Enough said!
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
My son runs, wrapping arms around
my nebulous waist.
"l love you, Mom!" He squeezes tighter,
as if letting go would be his black hole.
"I love you, too, " I squeeze back, absent mindedly. (Where is the cream? I need coffee.)
"I love you more!" he breathes, without pause.
He gazes into my eyes,
searching my planets.
"Oh no, that can't be true," I retort.
I forget the coffee, his eyes are starlight.
"I love you to infinity!" he exclaims,
staring harder.
He wants to sail the Milky Way with me.
"Me too," I reply, and remember oxygen tanks.
I'm speaking in light years, and I hope the sound waves will catch up to him.
His face cracks into a million years of forever, before he lets go,
dancing across the universe of our livingroom,
his solar system intact.
At least for now.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
My brother-in-law is the tightly wound sort.
Self contained in his miserable way.
Always quick with a quip or a nasty retort,
and, most likely, a miserable lay.
His job unfulfilling, his woman unwilling.
His co-workers thought he was gay.
He labored long hours for his indifferent masters
for infrequent raises in pay.
When he defenestrated his co worker Sally
and police asked me, what could I say?
" It's always the quiet ones
you have to watch out for-
I knew this would happen someday."
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 9:01 PM UTC
Poor little octopus.
Big head and eight tentacles
but no ***** ***** or testicles.
What's that, you say? Then how do these poor little cephalopods
buck such terrible odds when they feel like a ****** agenda
and they don't have any pudenda?
Well, it's quite simple, really. He hands her ***** on a tentacle
and what do you suppose?
She says, thank you very much, and sticks it up her nose!
Honest. No dinner first or shoulder massage,
she just whacks it up her nasal passage. You can be quite sure
this is an amazing olfactory aperture.
So the moral is, don't complicate a simple process.
When you're feeling frisky, *** need not be tricky.
Just consider the inventiveness of the octopus with no ***** or a ********
Because it's the ingenuity of the octopus, not it's ****** act,
that we should court. Compared to the octopus,
the human nose is naught.
It's too high up and tight for such naughty, wicked sport.
Also, such a human act is fraught with political incorrectness.
A gentleman who tries this little rort to get the girls to snort
and says, up your nostril, madam, might all too well
receive a rude retort. Or even worse!
I say herein lies food for thought.
Mike T Minehan
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 5:15 PM UTC
Hello there
You
Sitting in the corner grumbling about your health
Would you listen?
I need some help
It’s hard holding up the world all by myself
When you bother to look up do you realize my shoulders aren’t a shelf
You can’t pile things on top of me and expect me not to crumble
My legs are weak
I’m starting to stumble
May I have some support
Not your usual retort
I understand I must be stronger
I don't think I can hold on much longer
May I lay on you
Simply a word or two
Just a brief relief
A second of peace
If not I understand
But please would you take my hand
So I know where to go
On such a slippery slope
Where is the dry land
I'm being buried please understand
The weight in this muck
I'm losing my luck
Back bent eyes closed
Its up to my throat I have nowhere to go
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 11:26 PM UTC
"SOMETHING TO LOVE, OH, SOMETHING TO LOVE!"
Gravity had( oh hell )
gone AWOL!
Sky and earth
switched places
in an instant
his mind unable(oooOOOPS!)
to keep up with the changing
reality.
Everything had gone w h i t e
as if the world had been erased.
Then, a blackout:
as if one had one's own
private night.
He woke to find his arm
had escaped his body.
Bones( his own )
sticking out of his shirt
as if his skeleton had gone
on a day trip
to this the outside
world lord god almighty.
Then, a universe
of pain
but all he could manage
was: "Ow...that hurt!"
"Hi!" said the sky
back in its proper place.
Pain screamed
through him.
There appeared to be
an eternity of it.
"I'm off!"
he offered as a retort
slipping out the back door
of the world
leaving his body
to deal with the pain.
Adrift in a sea
of agony
he held on to
a line of poetry
"Something to love, oh, something to love!"
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 7:04 PM UTC
I hope today to see your smile like a life saving pill,
that makes the butterflies in my stomach obey my will.
To reach out beyond my arms too short,
and hold to kiss those trembling lips while they retort.
To look at you with wanting and you at me until.
you know I truly madly want you and will never have my fill.
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 10:15 AM UTC
when the sun surrendered
to the moon's seductive words of sleep
into my mind did
I delve deep--
I visited my memories
Piled carelessly on shelves
An endless library of my emotions,actions and reactions
which with every new day evolved
"Tell me,"I ask,"what is happiness again?for I've forgotten
what it's like to be free
Of gloom,to be unburdened."
"You still know joy,"my memories whispered,"we know you remember.
"We see what you see,hear what you hear,and make it somewhat sadder or sweeter."
"It's almost left my life,"I retort.
"I am idle with indifference,
I can't feel pain nor joy;why chance
pain by living your life at all
when you cannot feel other emotions?Why not just die?
Why bother?"
"Because there is always a way out,"
my memories reply."There's a door,
a ladder,a vent,a reaching hand.You
may be imprisoned,but there's more
to a prison than hopelessness and locks.all locks have keys,now you
must find yours;before you lose your way;there's no going back if you do."
with that in mind,I went home and dreamed of leaving;leaving the confines of the system,leaving my
sorrows behind me.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 11:42 PM UTC
Forgiveness, to forgive (for me)
Is essentially subtle- to a fault,
Beautifully it's practiced,
Yet inherently mistaught:
To ask of anything more
From the person you've done wrong
Is blatantly selfish, at its core
Pressuring them along.
Unless exactly, specific and honestly, you reiterate once more.
All the reasons which you petition forgiveness
And what you're sorry for:
To draw conclusions, assumptions and things, without the facts in place-
Was to right out start off in
an Unreasonable head space.
Furthermore, my tone of voice
And the disrespect it achieved
Is not what you- Alena, not at all
From me; should've ever recieved.
Lastly, explicitly I have to say;
I'm sorry for my aggressive words.
And the fact I reacted that way is
absurd
A retort- as a minuet or two, voice note
Deserved the block- and what you wrote.
*I'm sorry about this- discrepancy
I actually enjoyed you working with me.
I'll leave this here for you to find, &
Hope these words were worth your time.
When you read, know these are sincere; my apologies- true.
Not just mere pretty, fluffy words for you.*
Poetry's something I, almost know, you appreciate~ so heres an apologistic-free vers hyphenate.
Nov 21, 2023
Nov 21, 2023 at 5:56 AM UTC
When I was a little boy, say when I was six, my dad calls to me and he says: Come, boy – let’s sit in our courtyard; let’s sit below the stars and I’ll tell you a story. It’s been told long in our village, and passed on from wise fathers to growing sons.
Long ago, goes the story
Farmer Somu wanted
his daughter Meena to marry
the Strongest in the world
and so he set out on a journey
with his daughter
to seek the World’s Strongest One
And what were they going to do, little boy? says my father to me. They are going to look for the Strongest One, I say; and my father says: Ah, you clever son of a clever man.
And when they walked
past the rice fields
they saw farmers
wiping their brows
and they said:
‘My, how strong the sun shines!’
‘Aha,’ said Somu, ‘I think
I’ve found the Strongest One.
Come, Meena,’ he said,
‘let’s talk to the Sun.’
*And what do you think, my little boy, what do you think Somu asked the Sun?
And I say to my father: Oh Sun, Will you marry my daughter? And my father says, excitedly: Exactly! Exactly! Oh , you brilliant son of a brilliant man.*
‘Oh Sun,
will you marry
my daughter
for she is the Prettiest
and you are the Strongest?’
‘But,’ said the Sun,
‘the cloud is stronger than I
for have you not noticed
how often the cloud
blocks me out
and I can’t do a thing
until he decides to move?’
*And what do you think, my little boy, what do you think Somu replied to the Sun?
Oh, you weakling Sun – I’m not even talking to you! comes my quick reply. And my father says: Oh how right you are – you clever son of a clever man!*
‘Weakling Sun
stand out of my way
and Oh you most powerful cloud –
will you marry my daughter
for she is Prettiest
and you the Strongest?’
And the Cloud replied:
‘But ah, I am not the Strongest
for the wind just blows me away!’
And what do you think, my clever boy, what do you think Somu did next? And I answer my dad: Well, dad - Farmer Somu drags his daughter Meena to the Wind. And my father says: Oh how right you are – you brilliant son of a brilliant man!
‘O Wind
you should marry
Meena who is Prettiest
in the world
as you are the Strongest.’
But the Wind replied:
‘Ah, you don’t know how Strong
the mountain is
for he blocks my way
and he breaks me down.’
*And what do you think, my little boy, what do you think was Somu’s reply to the Wind?
Oh, you useless Wind – I’m ashamed I even considered you! I reply. And my father says: Oh how right you are – you clever son of a clever man!*
‘Oh, you useless Wind
– I’m ashamed
I even considered you!’
said Farmer Somu
and he dragged his daughter along
to meet the mountain
and he said to the mountain:
‘Most Honored Mountain
I have heard of your strength
and so I have brought you Meena
who is the Prettiest.’
But the Mounatin replied:
‘Oh Sir, I am not deserving
of such a rare beauty
for the rat gnaws holes in my sides
and so is Stronger than I.’
And what do you think, dear son, says my father to me – what do you think Somu does next? And I reply quite impatiently: Somu takes his daughter to the rat? Exactly! Exactly! shouts my dad. Exactly, you brainy son of a brainy man!
And the Rat told Somu:
‘Alas, Sir
though your daughter
is most desirable
I cannot marry her
for the hyena is
far stronger than me
for he has eaten many of my family!’
And so they walk to the hyena, says my father to me. And what do you think Somu tells the hyena? And I reply: Oh hyena – marry my daughter for she is Prettiest and you are Strongest! And my father says: Oh you are right, boy! You are right – Oh you brilliant son of a brilliant man!
‘Sir Hyena
Most Revered Sir Hyena
do marry Meena
for she is Prettiest
and you the Strongest!’
And Sir hyena replied:
‘Ok. I ask for no dowry
just leave her with me
with no ceremony.’
And what do you think , asks my father, Somu did? And I reply: He left Meena with the hyena. And my father shouts excitedly: Oh, how right you are! How right you are! You clever child of a clever man.
And no sooner had Somu left
the hyena took Meena
to his cave
and he ate her all
skin and bone…
Ah what a tragic end;
what a horrid end…
*And dear son, says my father to me, what is the moral of this story? Many, I say. But two are: Use your wits and stay alive. Never allow yourself to be dragged around. And my father jumps up and he is excited: Oh how right! How right! You brilliant son of a brilliant father!
And he turns to my mother who has joined us at the courtyard and he says:
See how clever our son is – he knows all the answers! Such a brilliant son of a brilliant father!
And my mother’s retort is swift: It’s not that he’s brilliant or you either. You’ve told him this story a hundred times, you silly man! And it’s always the same words! And I would have kicked my father if I were Meena!*
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 11:42 PM UTC
Beauty in the sky as it blesses us with rain,
Beauty in the the words that swept away the tame,
Beauty in our fellow man whom fights with sword in hand,
Beauty that he may one day hold his peace at last my friend,
Beauty in the women whom can retort with strength and valour,
Beauty that she may one day find the grace to whit her manner,
Beauty in the blades of grass that blanket our earthly womb,
Beauty in the golden chains we lace around our tomb,
Beauty to whom it may seem is a mystery,
Can you tell me of true beauty?
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 8:35 PM UTC
Bare branches against a meagre sky
Leaves flap like birds moving by
Magpies song mute and taut
Garden chimes sadly retort
Dull light rising to steel grey cloud
Gathering with a heavy shroud
Leaves still fighting as hold
Dark dawn, presence unfold
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 5:42 AM UTC
Sweeten, let’s, a coast of dun
Therefrom which, the tides erode,
A castle to blind the mighty sun
Affront to that Poseidon, and others
On the beach.
***** the walls and battlements
Fair crystal arm the turrets
The audience of the hermit *****
Pay silent homage to the throne
Intricate are its libraries, etched
Our history inside the tomes.
Only grains of perfect stock
From which antiquity, in full credit,
Will revere the lot
And poetry of human might
Shaped and forged to kiss the day of light
Only that may suffice.
In this endeavor, no ancients will tenet
Its salty beams but the children of the morn
For we shall build the universe
From when progenitors are born.
Before it began, we were dismayed
Our future, castle, by waves waylaid
Aspirations sink, now, from shape.
But, Gods, I curse you!
Let my destiny rise free!
Look now before you:
A stone in ocean of mediocrity!
All these that build up forts
Lack in that spirit to fight, retort
**** you, **** you, waters of my doubt
Turn false the shades of realism
Which I thought it all about
**** you, **** you sands of time
For now all that founds my dreams
Is erosion of the shoreline sand.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC
He heard a last echoed clink of liquor-laden ice-cubes,
Stuck between two stools that screamed for company,
I gazed across his vacant stare to the barman –the silent DJ,
Professionally ignorant as I gestured my hoarse thirst,
I waited a little minute, another minute an’ just one more,
Enter our businessman, full-schedule, long-hauled to drink,
With a rib-eye steak of a face an’ breath surely barbecued,
Two satisfied cheeks, pink-puffed with brows fit for burial,
Teeth ground with tension but brighter than the lighting
A fungal-lung nose perched upon a smile that I could smell,
He plumbed himself wet-shave close to my stiffened neck,
“..Hana Drink..?” (Silence) best to follow the DJ’s example,
(Bullish huffs) (Lips licked) “.. Ya’ll wantin’ a drink, Mister?..”
Flustered by the company, I replied “..Non, Je think eh Je chi..”
A retort of sorts, faux languages not my degree, “..Leaba..Bed!”
Spluttered just at the end – an insulting first impression,
He seemed nervously joyous, loosened from being himself,
Yet his trouser belt buckled, pulled tight to conversation level,
An’ Redwood-trunk hands, alive with the latest deal struck,
“..Bedtime for us..” he bare-bawled, splitting my weary eyes,
His numbed arm clumsily flung around me, “..bedtime for us!..”,
DJ unmuted, the music paused, I mouthed softly “..just the bill..”
(Silence)
“..Who’s Bill?.. a friend?…Is he cute?.. So this drink?” I panic still.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 11:15 AM UTC
The sky looks like cotton candy
Pink and blue are its pastel hues
"When do I ever tire of you?"
Is what came out of your liquor lips
That smelled of cherry gum drops and old wine
Something only old money can buy
You treated me like a queen and
"Now what are we?"
Is what comes out of your liquor lips
That smells of smoke and gunpowder
"Even I don't know." I retort
But let's live life like I'm not your last resort
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 10:01 PM UTC
"You're not a lot of fun to be around" she blurted
Not the first time I've heard it
I went
From being bullied to being A bully, was never meant to be permanent
You can probably guess what temperament brought more enjoyment?
So there's a solid argument to be had for it being a just verdict
But if you've never been in that predicament hold your judgmental hyperbolic rhetoric
Most folks seek out that kind of empowerment but keep it quiet, I'm just admitting it
Look, nobody's perfect but the crime has never fit my punishment
Pushed and shoved "getting back to the old me" to the back burner, against my better judgement
Cause I didn't bother with it any further, now a derelict social misfit
Then when it's my turn to take back the moment
My retort, a one and done statement;
Fck you, fck the planet and fck everyone on it
Easier to parrot that then to admit no one can stand me past the first minute
I don't know if it's the misplacement of hurt and anger, a cover for inadequate social alignment
Or a relentless deep seeded resentment for the general public
Not sure but it definitely feels organic
This old dog ain't capable of learning a new trick regardless of any enlightenment
Kinda sad isn't it?
©2024
Jan 16, 2024
Jan 16, 2024 at 6:30 PM UTC
Sentimental emotions needs to be shared
Down at your little throne I glared
I danced I frowned I smiled Oh silly jester of the court..
You only see a face of a fool! oh deary, please allow me to retort.
I make the masses smile all the time my dear
Why can't you see this jester's love appear?
I juggle knives and flames for your amusement.
Oh truly I do shrug in fear and in torment.
/Hush little darling don't you frown
This little jester will be your clown
All he wants to do is to see you smile
All he wants to do is laugh for awhile
This psychopathic love that I have for you
Would only be the beginning of our story for two.
The jester smiles and the crowd goes nuts
Alas the princess is with me but the pain still cuts/
Let the jester make you the grandest ball of them all
Let your lover make you twirl round and round in this ball
Let the crowd know this love that I held in the end
A jester to a lover what a sweet sweet blend
HaHaHaHaHaHa says the jester gone mad
How could this fairy tale got so wrong and bad
The jester hacks and slashes oh he is excited
For my sweet deary all things should be dead.
I thank the world for what it gave my heart
Sadly a jester can only do much it rips him apart
He can only make people smile and more is too much.
Bodies everywhere my love pulseless, inside the jester he only laughed a bunch.
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 3:53 PM UTC
The End Times
Repent, the zealot dinner guest, invited
For purposes of theological correctness, chides.
Repent, and sin no more, he advises, for the end is near.
But isn't that like asking a carnivore to turn vegan
Moments before the serving of a pampered calf's liver
I ask
he takes special care in the fall of a sparrow
The zealot replies, eyeing me as I set
My peas to one side with my fork.
Yes, but it was just that one, I retort.
His first.
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 3:01 AM UTC
When we
Are alone,
Me and Ammini
Make another
World to play in.
Like the ever vacant
Sand houses
Some adults build
With their kids
On the beach.
Then,
I will get angry
Even if the gentlest
Of breezes
Passes that way.
She will turn livid
Even if a *****
Passes that way.
If
Single
Single
Memories
Or sighs
Or their scars
Appear on the face
She will
Wipe them off
With
Kisses.
After playing
For long,
We will fight.
Ammini will holler
Louder than
The way she laughed.
I will keep mum
Louder than her.
I will
Lay her down
Holding her close
To my *****
That will beat
Ammineee, Ammineeee.
As she pretends
To sleep,
I will shoo her off
Go away pussiiii!
As if the masculine
Of pussee is pussoo
She will shoo me off
Go away pussoo!
I will retort
Go away Poochamma!
Ammini will retort
Go away Pochamba!
Go away Kochambi!
Go away Kochambra!
Go away Pochambra!
Go away Sochambra!
Go away
Sorambi!
Go away
Soramba!
Go away
Soorambi!
Go away
Kooramba!
Go away
Koorambi!
Go away
……
At a loss
For words
She will
Change the tune.
Goaway
Slate!
Goaway
Bag!
Goaway
Tree!
Goaway
Pencil!
Goaway
Pen!
Goaway,
Ant
Goaway
Mosquito!
Goaway
Matchbox!
Goaway
Straw!
Goaway
Book!
Goaway
Cot!
Goaway
Chair!
Goaway
Window!
Goaway
Door!
Goaway
Mobile!
Goaway
Button!
Goaway
Computer!
Goaway
Trousers!
Goaway
Shirt!
Goaway
Sky!
Goaway
Puppy!
Goaway
Star!
Goaway
Well!
Goaway
Girl!
Goaway
Boy!
Goaway
Calendar!
Goaway
Fan!
Goazway
Doll!
Goaway
Broom!
Goaway
Tiffin box!
Goaway
Poetry!
Goaway
Annakutty!
Goaway
Appakutta!
Goaway
Ammikkalli!
Goaway
Appakkalla!
About to lose,
I will show the
Trump card.
Go away
Agnus Anna!
Her face will change.
Hesitantly,
She will say
Go away
Kuzhur Wilson!
Then
An
Intolerable
Silence
Will
Spread
There.
When Ammini
Turns back
To
Kochu TV,
I will
Enter
The bathroom
Shut
The door
And
Puff on
A cigarette.
Then
Another
Kind of
Game
That
Makes
Life
Intolerable
To live
Will
Pool
Around me
There.
Translation : Ra Sha
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 10:26 AM UTC
I am a selfmade machine.
I respond to notice and attention.
Wires tampered
I say the strangest things.
Proclaiming my love to everyman
I've ever met
and then hiding as soon as they
retort.
I often wonder if I
just do what I think
I am supposed to do.
Perhaps the world has told me
as a woman,
to be constantly yearning;
never satisfied.
I ponder it over each day and night,
I churn it into bites
and swallow.
I find desperation.
Mere affectionate action,
making my stomach bleed.
Though as they waltz away,
I thirst for their hand
to cup my shoulder blade
hand to their shoulder seam.
What is a girl supposed to do.
Love pushes itself against me
and I find myself ungracefully turning it
away.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 6:41 PM UTC
The Shadow that was there but a Moment ago, Seems to have Moved a BIT and now is Shining Aglow. Why does the Shadow have such a SHARP,CRISP EDGE?? Is the light Behind it so great? The Laughter I hear when the Shadow Moves, I find NO sense of Humor in That Delight! I was only Searching for the Source of the light,, You KNOW, Like finding the "Pot-Of-Gold" at the end of the rainbow. To my Surprise,,,,,When I did find the source of such a strange light, A Visitor by the name of "GRIMSTER" stepped upon my toes, Pushed Me from behind, Laid a Trip-Wire in MY PATH, Broke every bulb Lighting The WAY, Threw hundreds of Slippery marbles right at My Feet, and all the while Demanding;;; "I'll stop if ONLY you'll Claim me as Master!" AS HE Tossed a bail of barbed Wire at my body!! MY Retort cane from Deeep Within,; "NEVER*Grimster I Proclaimed"!! "What you offer is but a Facade, Reality rests in the PATHS that I've chosen!" THEN,,"Grimster" Turned UP the power of the Light, The HEAT of which was beginning to Singe and Burn the Back of MY Neck.. I PICKED-UP a handful of the Marbles, AND as HARD AS I COULD THROW ,,,, I Aimed them at the Center of the Light!!_____The Quiet pause overwhelmed me! THEN, AS A NEW kind of Bright Light FILLED my view. I observed, There were"NO" Shadows and a Whispering MUSE of a Voice, right in my ear, as in Melodic Words ,,,,"PROCLAIMED TO ME three (3) TIMES!! "GRIMSTER" has left for "EASIER-PREY"
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 3:54 AM UTC
Calamity is a storm of icy rain and striking fires.
Casting you about in a boat of your own design and build.
Preparing for the approaching storm with a firm rutter.
And you will survive, only if though willed.
Calamity is a renegade goat of raging fury and slyly forte.
Hammering its way into you aiming for the throat of your own girth.
Heat and eat hearty meals to be able to retort.
And you will survive, and be of worth.
Calamity is a surprise, you cannot see it’s approach.
So be prepared and well-equipped.
Stomp it out like a fire or upon a roach.
And you will survive, through your own wit.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 10:47 AM UTC
"So what can we do for you today?" he asks
My expression unwaveringly content as if wearing a mask
"A lobotomy!" I say with a half-subdued smile
The doctor says he hasn't "heard that one in a while"
Little does he know I am completely serious
And in just a few minutes we being to discuss
"Now why would you want a lobotomy?" he asks leaning in
After a deep breath, I'm all too eager to begin
No bills, no job, no expectations
No depressing lack of motivation
No world hunger, no homeless men
No fear, no stress, no depression
"No love" doc says, sensing I'm the romantic sort
"No heartbreak, cheating, or divorce" I snarkily retort
No lies, no betrayal, no used-to-be friends
No mortgages, no insurance, no trying to meet ends
No hopelessness, no emptiness, no what-ifs or regrets
No innocence or loss of it, no piling up debts
No 8 A.M. alarm, no "what's the point?"
No recurring pain in my left shoulder joint
No waking up from a dream and facing reality
No resenting myself, no one taking advantage of me
No broken sink, no "I'll deal with it later"
No bug problem, no blasting-bad-music neighbor
No thoughts, no feelings, no doing a thing
Just sit, breathe, and eat what the nurses bring
No voice in my head, no have to eat healthy
No "rest when I'm dead" or work 'til I'm wealthy
No final straw in my constant fight
To try to find reasons to keep living life
No fear of the future, no lies from the past
No more constant sadness, I finish at last
An empty silence falls over the moment
The doctor is thinking and his face starts to show it
And then he said something I'll never forget
"I guess you're right, let's get a date for it set"
Doc so strangely agreeing I suddenly hesitate
And before he says more, I can only say "wait…"
"Maybe not yet," I sheepishly say
Maybe there's hope, if even just a ray
I think about life then say "what the hell, why not?"
There may still be hope even if it's impossible to spot
But hoping for hope might be enough for me
To save my brain from a lobotomy
And if in a few years things still aren't going well
I guess I'll still just keep living because eh, what the hell
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 2:14 AM UTC