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impediments
by Charlie Morganturning the key to my own cube
i close all impediments to change;
i will stay the same: as yesterday,
as tomorrow, as the seventh grade.
change is money in your pocket, for
once we're born, there is no no more;
an illusion is your convience of
not admitting that it's all the same.
our cells regenerate every seven years;
our mental tether to life is foolishness.
a Gregorian calendar is the only proof
that change/growth is taking place and we've
outgrown our tricycle as our wedding dress.
illusions are expounded by drink, smoke
as is "falling" in love. all foul lines to
the game of life. contracted 'til death. 12/08/2012 Posted on 12/08/2012
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 12/08/12 at 07:59 PM And for what ever reason we had little choice about being born. I for one tried to crawl back into the place out which I came. But alas how much rain I would have missed. Good write Charlie. |
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