P(doom)

Sam Moyn--it's fine to take my vote away!

Why?  I don't give a fig about p(doom),

I'm old now, I could pop off any day,

My life's been good, it's running out of room.


Making my death worthy is my great job,

I'm go'ing to a land from which none return,

Will death serve wide, make me run for a lob?

Deal gently with me, make me feel the burn?


My p(doom) is one, it's not deputable, 

It's the fabric of my late-life journey,

Will my end be louche or reputable?

Will I fin'ly let go of the tourney?


I choose not to vote--I'm done ruling you!

My old man's work is important to do.






Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Toast to My Daughter and to Paul (Libra)

Does marry rhyme with a name or a mood? Neither.  I think that it rhymes with starry, It's a path that's both heavenly and lewd, To love, to make mistakes is to marry. Why is it matri- not patri- mony? Paul, here's a point relevant to you, The maternal root--it is not phony, To marry is to be a mother, too. Why do t's and d's often sound alike? We risk when we have betted or bedded, When we ride to our jobs on train or bike, To marry is to have desires whetted. To marry is to turn off one's damn brain, To embrace true joy instead of sham pain.
Read more

Appreciation (to Peter Gabel) (Cancer)

A movement is a kind of arena, It's a non-violent venue for struggle, You tussle like Spiderman and Sheena, You have to be both wizard and muggle. The grumpy people, they criticize you, "Your permanent leadership is unfair!" Confuting them's hard.  What they say's part true, You're a hierarch with a burden to bear. I was grumpy with you, and I was wrong, I benefited greatly from your works, From your conjoining a school with art's song, From your fusing thinking with friendship's perks. Peter, you were a true benefactor, You were the best kind of social actor.
Read more

To Our Future

To Our Future Sinead, I'm sorry that I wasn't there! I wanted to hear all about your move, Russell, I was hoping that I could share, The deets on my niece's library groove. We had a surprise party in Scotch Plains, The plan was to go from there to Philly, The storm was coming, there were cancelled trains, To stick to our plan seemed to us silly. So is it the end of the four of us? Are we a foursome that will never be? Should I delete these lines, not make a fuss? From our potentialities be free? I say no!  We might all have a future, My words are stitching, a hopeful suture.
Read more