What does it matter what day we arrive?
Or how we pop out of the womb.
As long as we’re breathing and staying alive
And have mother’s milk to consume.
We spend our first days on the end of a nipple,
Gulping down pints of white cheer.
Preparing ourselves for our very first tipple,
When the white cheer’s replaced by brown beer.
When school days arrive, they teach us the ropes.
The informative years are a bother.
They try to teach us, but hold out no hopes.
In one ear and out of the other.
So off to face the world and its mother,
With pitfalls, traps and quicksand.
All we ask, is one chance or another,
To get a few bucks in our hand.
Some of us make it and some of us don’t.
Some will spend spells in the slammer.
Some will do drugs and some of us won’t
And some will come under the hammer.
If we manage to get through the minefield of life.
Get married and raise a few kids.
And come through it all with no trouble or strife
With money to make a few bids.
We’ll think we did well to make it this far,
When we’re still not quite over the hill.
If illness don’t get you, or the front of a car.
Then a woman most certainly will.
You need to place your poems under humor, because you always give me a chuckle. In this case with that last line, a zinger. I've been so fortunate not to have children and all their troubles. For three years while I was married, I had to put up with a teenage princess stepdaughter who wanted to sabotage our marriage and when she succeeded, became remorseful and sided with me!
You're right. Surviving life ain't easy. But I'm trying to figure out why so many of my contemporaries who have survived, now want to go back to the bad old days of the 50s as though it was some kind of paradise? They should be more philosophical, like you.
Contraband Marriage, traveling along the hemline of loving after incarceration, is a love story written in lyric and free form, set in reality with a different ever after.
budd
You're right. Surviving life ain't easy. But I'm trying to figure out why so many of my contemporaries who have survived, now want to go back to the bad old days of the 50s as though it was some kind of paradise? They should be more philosophical, like you.
Ron