it’s no longer my day, season,
or even decade…
Hell, it’s no longer my century-
an abrupt chronological
epiphany has informed me
That time isn’t passing
It’s just shy to embrace a
when the individual moment resolutely
in fact, the very next damn moment,
may just sum.
Now My Second Poesy Posted On The WEB
circa that last century
Alaska The Cat
Alaska attacks before sunrise
aware that vulnerable hour
Alaska’s quick to mobilize
the logistics of Eisenhower
Alaska blitzkriegs before daylight
with a belly that leads the way
Alaska makes war with appetite
for breakfast or early doomsday
Alaska Pearl Harbors the morning
Alaska declares no war
Alaska gives no warning
as sleep’s divestiture
Alaska allows no slackers
Alaska allows no latrine
Alaska the a.m. bushwhacker
surrender the damn fish spleens
“no longer my century.” As if I didn’t feel old enough already.
Right…the rapid change of the on-line game seems to exacerbate the feelings of this… then…THEN!
Ha! The Alaska/Cat poem?! Yaaasss! Right down to the ending lines!
You’re most welcome!
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