Friday, June 11, 2010


There’s got to be a better way
for me to positively slay
this less than entertaining lapse
that now confounds each stalled synapse

but I’m in such a static state
I simply sit and vegetate
restrained by steely locks of gray
that signify my slow decay

when suddenly a blazing bolt
of insight gives me such a jolt
it flings me from this creaky chair
to go and flavor life with flair.

It’s meaningless to wrangle rot
be happy for what time you’ve got
and face each moment fearlessly
with naught but hope for what may be.


Carrie Van Horn said...

I love this poem, it is so true. The name is perfect. :-)

rch said...

Thanks Carrie, I really appreciate that.