Friday, November 26, 2010



I am at the half of my life

And wifeless; not strifeless
And it shows
 As I forage through the throws
Of life and it’s tribulations
And on trial for why I don’t know
But Oh! How it hinders my wonts
And in the cinders of my past I find
A rind of the fruits of my labours
And squeeze from it all that I can
in the hopes
That the dopes o’er which I mope
Will succumb and soon go.

There is life beyond asperity
And clarity beyond
And my yawnings are but the gage
Of my tries and my age
And the page that I’m at
Of this sordid story.
I’m Sorry.
‘Till the day that I die
I’ll live and I’ll try
The life that I choose
And you’ll lose for trying to stop me
From hopping on the gravy train

That I vainly proclaim

Is mine to ride.

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