Archive
01/19/12 - (2)
"Growing Old"
Surely, the term "growing old" is an inappropriate misnomer. Just take a second or three to think about it, And doubtless you'll agree with me,
That the very notion of "growing old" is, at best, grotesque And, to a greater degree of morbidity, moribundity, A cruel joke perpetrated on humanity, by an idiomatic god.
After all, when you reach a certain tipping-point point, The possibility of "growing old," let alone growing at all, Diminishes to a flatulent absurdity, a contradiction in terms,
Unless you're willing to cut euphemism some crucial slack, Allow for the plausibility that death might see, in "growing old," Growth potential for its industrious corporation,
By its being able to render the deceased into black putrefaction, To feed its blowflies, maggots, beetles, mites — An age-old feast for its growing population of ghosts.
As for me, I loathe, hate, abhor, disdain, abominate the idea That my "growing" is nothing but day-to-day decay, degradation, And that "older" is a shabby way of saying I'm decomposing.
I wish, somehow, I could reverse the "growing old" process, Read my riot act to the gross insult of bodily metamorphosis, Announce my avowed intentions to begin growing younger,
So that I might avoid the protractedly rigorous rigors of mortis, Set off from my camp, at the base of Mount Juvenescence, And climb, with inexhaustible youthfulness, to its summit, Without the slightest fear of running out of life-time, Growing older and older without "growing old" at all.
01/19/12 - (2)
|
|||
|
|||
