THE FEEL LIKE SHOUTING CURMUDGEON RAG

Hope springs eternal, or so the cliche goes,
more likely infernal, if the truth be told,
cockeyed optimists can piss off, because
reality shows us that hope will only get you a coffee,
if you got a buck plus tax;
and if people don’t really want to know just how you feel,
they shouldn’t ask you how ya feeling?
or smiling salesclerks telling you to have a nice day,
well I’m going to have any kind of day I damn want,
this is my epitaph to platitudes, to well meant
but poorly thought out sentiments from folks
who don’t really know and mostly don’t really care;
enough already, my blood sugar level is topping out,
with this endless flow of sweet banality;
some people may think me a pessimist,
others may call me a sour curmudgeon,
but I’m just an average Joe who wants a little
ration of truth, of reality, to leaven the loaf
we’ve all got to chew on;
so if you’ve been looking for a nice cute poem,
filled with garden vistas and true love,
you’re just out of luck,
because it just ain’t my day;
Amen, end of sermon, end of poem.....


31 July 1998