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Fifty-Five Needs to Be A Whole Lot Cockier

some say
if I think
therefore I am not
does that mean
thinking erases me?

would I rather run like color runs
in water
the liquidness of the movement
effortless and endless

thinking can be as dangerous
as a cage
like the limits of 9 x 11

and the limits of space/time
the hour glass has tipped
you who are getting older
know of what I write and speak

help me out of here
I'm trapped
set me free to roam far and wide
with the wind

have you ever felt you were too
strapped in?

that you've lived and thought
too long a certain way
this contorts and distorts me

the highway of life has
projects that have stalled along the way

I've tinkered with them only long enough
to cause a ripple or no change within
nor promise or hope

I feel I've been adrift
self-sacrificing for mere
curiosity or

if I were a cat
nearly all nine lives
would be gone

so what's left?
experience or defeat
something in between?

depends on the perspective

now, the limit has been
posted at 55
and what's beyond it
could be exhausting

its a wake up call
on a wind up alarm clock
its an old song
in my head

I can't drive
this hoopty no more
its 55 and to the floor
and look at me
the age I am

screw you all
this is where you're eventually
coming to
we all follow this road map
to our own ends

it took some real doing
to get here
you better believe
didn't it?

55 should be
needs to be
a whole lot cockier

this Hen has got some
crowing to do.

Copyright August 27, 2014 Wednesday 9:37 pm
All Rights Reserved By This Author
All Rants/Ideas/Poetry/Stories are The Legal Property of This Writer
Meloo/Melissa A Howells
straight from her Tilt-a-World

"Do Not Go Gently Into That Good Night."
"Rage Against The Machine" of Public Opinion

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