The drudgery of societal routine

Self-explanatory

 

By Stanley Collymore

 

I woke up this morning, glanced out of my bedroom

window, saw that the general weather was still

as miserable in outlook as the day before

and honestly would dearly and preferably have gone

back to bed if it were either possible or advisedly

judicious in the circumstances to do so. But

sensibly I instead went to the bathroom

and there as each morning I typically

do I hygienically embarked on my

personal ablutions, directly after

which I had a prolonged, hot

shower in tranquil isolation.

 

Then feeling infinitely better as a result of this

thorough an refreshing washing of myself

I then automatically, meticulously and

diligently prepared myself for the working day

ahead wishing for all that, I was in its place

a wealthy man and none of this routinely

engaged in, mundane every day, carry

on experience called living wasn’t

such a procedural and invasive

part of my daily existence as

for years, and specifically

in all features of what

ever occupation I’d

been involved in,

it had become.

 

But what else can a man like me do, eh?

Rob a bank and hope that the judge

and court jointly show leniency

concerning me? Become a gigolo, seduce

and hopefully get the chance to marry

a wealthy widow? Play the lottery

and forever expectantly hope

to win? Or acquiescently

shrug my shoulders,

accept the reality

of my situation

and dutifully

endure what

I am doing.

 

© Stanley V. Collymore

6 December 2019.

 

 

Author’s Comments:

Every compos mentis individual at some time or other feels like this, and if they’re residing in Britain the weather certainly doesn’t help in the least. The key however to not succumbing to this sort of malaise is go on the attack. Look yourself squarely in the mirror, snarl defiantly at any figure of a defeated or defeatist person that you see there and then proudly walk away as the champion you know inwardly that you are! Now try it, Tiger!