Hovering On The Cusp Of Lunacy

Okay, this one is a little long . . . Yeah, I know . . .

Among the fiefdom of our many years

The reaping of our deeds grows austere;

We tread the earth expecting simple praise

From colleagues who pace nearby in a daze.

 

Man's lot is and forever will be the same

Accept tribute for our good, our bad we blame

The gods who make us toil and forever strive

To make life meaningless and not get out alive.

 

A young man, full of himself, shakes his fist

Struts here and there looking for his first kiss

Swaggers after as if he alone was so bestowed

Filled with himself, testosterone doth flow.

 

Muscles, solid and stiff as is his raging manhood

Salutes all females as often as it possibly could

No thought of the delights of making a home

This stud is indestructible, he wants to roam.

 

The springtime of our life is short and quick

Summer blends into our psyche nice and slick

We hardly discern a change in our busy life

Our days are still carefree and without real strife.

 

Warming our hearts, a time of measured lust

Not so irrational in these days of heat and dust

Finally we combine covetousness with a sad truth

We're not really Superman inside a phone booth.

 

But we ignore reality and rend our clothes away

Our juices are still flowing so we stay in the fray

We act at life and have fun each and every night

Our would-be Superman forgets about Kryptonite.

 

Soon summertime merges into the falling of fall

Its time for our life's journey to lend us a shawl

We find that we need to cover previous mistakes

We try and we fail to quickly slam on the brakes.

 

A time of life we began to fear what lies beyond

So we clutter our world with pilfered junk bonds

Kids and wife best dealt with by coming home late

All of a sudden he finds the wife, she's not so great.

 

So the autumn of our life is fraught with stress

We look more and more at just how to rest

Middle-aged now and still without a clue

Of how, where, why, and what we must do.

 

Ah, but winter descends like a great landslide

Before we know it we're cast on our last ride

The debris of so much trouble and discord

Finds us actually thinking of falling on the sword.

 

Sins of our past to God and to all of mankind

We try to unravel because they're intertwined

Within our hearts and thoughts and our core

If we're honest to ourselves we have to abhor.

 

It is hard to admit that our life has be fraught

With misdemeanors and felonies not caught

Except now we are going to meet our God

With lies, treachery, an unforgiving façade.

 

Death leers grotesquely like a great unknown

Which demands obedience, it will not postpone

But wait, can we at least hold it at temporary bay

Until we make right the wrongs we did at play?

 

Sadly we search for those for which to confess

Our sins and ask them our souls to please bless

Alas, but no, there is no one left for which to ask

Each one you seek you find a rotting death mask.

 

The moral?  This tale is not so vain as to suggest

How to live life, no, this is not a riddle or contest

All that it expects is for the reader to contemplate

Living their lives so you'll have a clean slate.

Reviews

[Ashley Blair]

I am... speechless. So many people live their lives so carelessly because they feel infinitely alive, like nothing can ever stop them. But death is a gift promised to everyone. Too often we dirty the slate - but that is a part of being a human being.

[Hitchhiker]

Thank you very much, Ashley, for your input into my poetry.

[Pryde Foltz]

The moral? This tale is not so vain as to suggest

How to live life, no, this is not a riddle or contest

All that it expects is for the reader to contemplate

Living their lives so you'll have a clean slate.

Great wisdom in this piece. Alas we dirty that slate when we believe ourselves immortal. Nothing to do but forgive and move on I guess. Great penning, here.

[Hitchhiker]

Thank you Pryde, for you indepth wisdom as you understand completely what I was aiming at with this piece. Thank you again.