Age of Discontent, Years of Folly

Manifesto of a middle aged loser...

Youth, foolish youth, cherishing life, seeking all they desire;
I give them nothing, I hold nothing from them; I hope nothing;
They become embroiled in the passion of their journeys;
A chasm lies between us - a great gulf of emptiness.

 

 

The truth is hidden from their eyes and senses;
If they only knew the broken way that is before them;
Strewn with the deceased ideals of those coming before them;
Their egos are swollen with the "I cans", "I wills", and "I haves".

 

Here is the fortune of the unfortunate; I will tell you the secret;
To seek worth and happiness then find it not;
To seek companionship and hope and it never seize you;
To search for meaning and approval and it elude you.

 

Here it is! Here it is! Here is the worth of existence;
To work for others and supply their reckoned needs;
To work for the governing and supply their reckoned needs;
And to dodge the fiery daggers of the works of men.

 

For to us it is to trust not and be trusted not.
Gone is my youth and the life lust that once led me;
Only the dreaded wisdom of my age has taken hold;
I now only look forward by looking back.

 

Our bold search has lead us to a wilderness of misconception;
The signpost reads "No Contentment For The Contempt";
The road traveled provides us little portage for rest;
Weariness from this savage existence yields us a worn wisdom.

 

Merciless are these vipers that coil around that which is ours;
They seek to destroy us and lay claim to that which we have claimed;
Foolish hopes change little. This, your only constant, is lack of contentment.
Dismay should not befall you, oh young ones, fret not.

 

Achieving your hopes, arriving at your destination;
This, however, you may do, still then you have not arrived;
It is only a façade in the structure of your life, an untruth;
For in a wisp of wind and a vapor of time it is gone.

 

Why will you work? - For them to take, and if they take not, what then?
Are you endowed with material that matters not and then is gone in death?
Why do you work? Again, Why do you work? Why exist, or want to?
Why do you, oh foolish youth, ignore the sign? Why do you continue to seek?

Harsh is the final reality. What you seek you will not find;
What you long for with a crafty search only brings weariness;
Soon the zeal will leave you as it has left all we sojourners;
He who will march, you who march now, and we who no longer march.

Todd Bailey
 

Reviews

[Angelic Darkness]

This is a very neagative poem. Our youth we struggle in our silliness, then we
grow, fight to become independent, then we get old, and wonder where it all
went, and was it worth it. Life is a march to our different stages of life, sometimes
it makes us weak, and sometimes makes us strong, but in the end, it makes us
who we are. There are some good points in the poem, and a lot of depth and
thinking. We search for who we are as individuals, and hopefully, in the end,
we find it. AD

[Paza]

"For to us it is to trust not and be trusted not.
Gone is my youth and the life lust that once led me;
Only the dreaded wisdom of my age has taken hold;
I now only look forward by looking back."

Chilling words, yet so full of truth. If we knew that this was what would be ahead of us, would we have changed anything that we did? Could we have? Would we have paid any attention to the signs or were we just living...this poem really moved me, particulary this stanza...it seems to sum up much of what I've been feeling of late...only looking forward by looking back...wow...what a concept.

[Laura E. Aranda]

AH, you sound like the wise writer of Ecclesiates...all is vanity! Vanity!

Cheers, lea

[Sydelle Houston]

Middle aged loser? Not hardly, you have a lot to say through your poems and hopefully, will share it with the world.

That saying "the destination is not as important as the journey" is apparent in this poem. I enjoyed this one.

[Pointblank]

The last two stanzas touch me the most. You are so right. We can not tell our kids exactly how it is because they would have nothing to live for. We certainly don't want them dead. We want them to at least feel the butterflies of love, kisses and babies. The pride of accomplishment and/or winning. Thats how I continue to move through this let down of life. Of course life is what we make it. I guess we make it suck. I dunno. Loved your writing.

[David Lewis Paget]

Now this is really something - I'm impressed!

'To seek worth and happiness then find it not;
To seek companionship and hope and it never seize you;
To search for meaning and approval and it elude you.'

You have outlined a bold philosophy which is only attainable with age and experience - and don't we know it? The truth is sometimes too close to pessimism for comfort, for a lot of people. But you've speared it in one, you speak truth to the converted, to the experienced, to the aged and fallen. As Grahame Greene once said; 'the ultimate disillusionment once coincided with the moment of death; these days it comes much sooner.' I like it, even in its non-ryming form; it has a feel of Kipling's 'If' about it. David.

[Lydia]

Wow. This is brutally honest, and amazingly well-written. I love the style, the bitterness, and your use of alliteration. I also really like your repitition of words and enjoy that you change them a bit (i.e.: claim/claimed). This is a great poem and I really enjoyed it.