As I go on my round of late
I see bodies, with shambling gait
I wonder, do they suffer the cramp
Or rooves that leak and houses damp?
Of perhaps suffer some other malaise
A stare that is blank and eyes that gaze
So curious to see on the Isle of the Free
A shuffling gait as if from some penalty
As if they carry some burden great
Of souls that are bound and minds that hate
Surely the miracle of modern science can liberate?
From this oft’ seen and pernicious state
Then I look at myself, and see: I too stagger
Under burdens so great, I am my own nagger
Of schedules, plans that do frustrate
My soul from rising to higher states
Of lists, jobs and errands and the like
I think I’d be better off on a bike!
Instead I pretend I can handle it, it’s cool
But when I meet my end I’ll be the fool
How can I carry on this way?
Just ignore my problems, they’ll go away
Can’t I see, I’m my own worst enemy?
And when they lay me down to die
And say, “There there, he had a good life…”, “NO!” I’ll cry,
“I did EVERYTHING WRONG! I want a second try!”
But suffering poets to this day
Have their brief say, then go away!
Copyright © Christopher J. Hudson 2012