Shit Happens
How strange, discombobulating, bewildering, flummoxing existence gets
When changes, alterations, innovations take place
And rearrange a generation's expectations,
Proclaim a society-wide mandate that everything old must go,
While each manner, stripe, variety, persuasion, flavor of what's new
Must have room made for its breath-arresting, state-of-the-fate technology,
So that every and each participating citizen of the what's-happening-now
Can feel that he and she has been given a fair leg-up shake
At appropriating, or at least being bequeathed, a decent piece of the dream.
But how could existence be otherwise, for those of us thrall, addicted,
To the phases of the future's waxing and waning tides,
Which seduce us to ride its waves, from the source of Creation,
To the farthest bourn, where clammy, wormy death waits, patiently,
To satisfy its ravenous appetite's taste for our obsolete bones and flesh?
After seventy-one years, all the wisdom I've gleaned is this:
Shit not only happens but changes quicker than alchemized fool's gold
And those who neglect or reject it forfeit celestial ecstasy,
For a Gehenna of abacuses, slide rules, typewriters, and Gutenberg Bibles.
10/29/12
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