I Don’t Understand…

Where does the time go, seems it literally flies by,

When not at work, when home attempting to jerk,

I stay home to write poetry, yes here I do lurk,

I see others in their own worlds, being tempted to shirk,

Their duties to the world, to their jobs, to their wives,

By hanging out at others homes, shirking their lives…

Where does the time go, there never seems to be enough,

Time to play, time to pray, time to say, time to get laid,

Home is where the heart is; I hear it said,

Home for me is seclusion, as I am a recluse…

I interact with the local populace; herein I do not lie,

But try as I might, I cannot totally reduce, the time I do spend,

With the neighbors I have, as it would be of no use,

To my door they do come, inviting me to dinner, to get high,

But I do not turn them away, without at least a smile and a lie…

I am in hopes they never find out, not that I don’t like them,

They are all in my meditations, as they are loved all alike,

All my neighbors, they are so much like little tykes,

Their lives they do pass through,

My life so boring they think, little do they know I write about them herein,

As I would not tell them so, as they are for the most part, kinda slow,

But good people all of them are, I named after all of them for Christmas, a star…

                        © ed – 3/28/04