I’d like to know on just what basis we deserve our fine oasis? In other places, other climes, people our age have harder times. They work ’til death or do not eat. They toil in poverty and heat. So though we may have aches and pain, I must our grumbling disdain. Yes, I ache and limp and groan, yet prefer these problems that are my own.
I fear there’s a frustrating schism between progress and atavism. For though I’d like to best my folks, adding my genius to the yolks of eggs of the next generation, instead I feel great perturbation. I could improve the family genes, but fear that I have not the means. For though I’m sure I’m an improvement, our gene pool won’t see any movement. There is a sure futility regarding mutability. My evolution’s hit the skids. I forgot to have some kids!!!!
This was written to fulfill two prompts. The RDP daily prompt is atavism and Daily Addiction’s prompt is futile.
They say he was a bastion of the community. Of what their youth should aim for, the exact epitome. Mothers named their kids for him and he was so discreet, his name labelled a shopping center and a city street.
Asked to speak at graduation, his words were most succinct. Not one old lady fell asleep. Nobody even blinked! Moral, staunch and upright, he was everyone’s ideal. He always used the crosswalk. He didn’t cuss or steal.
No forensic laboratory ever had a label or test tube or fingerprint of his upon their table. In short, his reputation was one without besmirch. He went to each town meeting, every Sunday, went to church.
He did not exceed the speed limit, use liquor or smoke pot. Every single vice on earth was something he was not. His genes were the best of genes. His relatives all lasted at least until one hundred, and he dieted and fasted.
Ate kale and probiotics, whole grains and leafy greens. He sponsored many charities and lived within his means. So when he died it wasn’t from alcohol or drugs. He did not die from violence–his own or that of thugs.
He did not perish from obesity or accident or whoredom. In the end, they say that he simply died of boredom!
We scuttle between life’s different stages
like hamsters on wheels or rats running mazes.
In childhood, we cannot wait to grow up.
We wear our pants low and mutter, “Whuzzup?”
We think when we’re teenagers, we’ll really live
as childhood passes like sand through a sieve.
As teens, all our reckoning’s fixed on afar–—
that day when we’ll finally drive our dad’s car!
Then university becomes our goal,
or life in the factory or life on the dole
if school seems a prison and we want to skip
one of the stages so we can just zip
to earning a dollar and running our lives,
buzzing right through it like bees in their hives.
Milling and rushing—careening through life.
Barely a girlfriend before we’re a wife.
Driving kids one two three from this lesson to that
until we can’t reflect where exactly we’re at.
Grandpas and grandmas, then single once more.
Losing a spouse may just open a door
to a last phase and the end of this rhyme.
A phase where, finally, we’ll take the time
to just sit and enjoy the stage that we’re in,
now that we’re retired and resting’s no sin.
Invest in a porch swing, a hammock or cat
that gives you a reason to be where you’re at
without moving or thinking of something to do.
Just sit yourself down. Scratch the cat. Eye the view.
Life’s more than a puzzle and more than a queue.
Take time to enjoy this life that you grew!!!
Too often generosity must suffer the pomposity of that rich soul who grants it to recompense those lucky few for all he gouged throughout his life— blind to their needs and lives of strife.
The library that bears his name should also bear the stain of shame. His reputation for charity indeed, had been a rarity for all the years he cheated workers, calling them deadbeats or shirkers.
When they asked for a living wage, their pleas were met by silent rage, beatings, dockings, firings, lock-outs and rehirings of other hungry men who stayed for meager wages that he paid.
The dedications will proclaim his noble acts and spread his fame, but the world will not take note, nor will the history books quote how his empire was slowly carved out of those masses who slowly starved
He felt it was his birthright and she felt it was hers to only wear designer lines from underwear to furs. Their schools were the finest. Their cars were Lamborginis. They lunched on finest caviar and supped on steak and blinis. Each Saturday brought manicures and plucked-out nasal hairs. On Fridays, deep massages to tone their derrieres. Since they never did a lick of work, they never had to hurry. Everything was done for them. They had no cares nor worry.
When times demanded action, they sat up on their shelves hoarding their petty worries and tending to themselves. And when the celebrations declared the war was done, our cloistered privileged duo came out to join the fun. But alas they were not recognized. They didn’t know a soul. Locked up safe in their houses, they’d had no plan nor goal for defending all their property inherited from kin, but now the world was set aright, they claimed it once again.
They restarted their factories, and things were as before as those returning soldiers labored to earn them more. Another old year fades away and as the new year waxes, they’ll find another way of avoiding paying taxes. They leave to others the taxpaying, the soldiering and toiling because it is their birthright that they should not be soiling their hands with any tasks unbefitting to their classes. They’ll leave all the laboring to the teeming masses!
And since of this fine nation he is such an honored resident, perhaps he’ll step it up a notch. Perhaps he’ll run for president!
This site called “Daily Addictions” posts a prompt daily and has a site to post to that is easy to use and easy to see the responses of others. It is a great replacement to The Daily Prompt. Please check it out and support it. There are other sites presently developing their posting page but this is the only one that I know of that is currently up and running.
Today’s prompt is Concerted. Please write a prompt and post it to their site.