The years meandered ‘long ‘til I hit twenty
dreams of fame, girls and money
Married too young, I was a jerk
tethered now, to the daze of work
Lost in their haze, decades sped by
spent a fortune, wondering why
Finally quit, seventy nearly
my body’d paid ever so dearly
And yes, the years meander once again
in a comfy rocker ~ with paper and pen
We, the Children of the Atom:
Whose quantum physics master the balance of past and future.
We remember before and after; to aim them both with hands still enslaved by petty policy and impractical allegiance to the thieves who multiply yet still.
We say now to them: Imagine what we shall do in the autonomy of freedom by your inevitable decomposition, and fear it so.
The world vomited into our trapped laps is to be gone.
The path is lain by the doubling and tripling of the excessive selfishness from the age of lack of humanity born from the latter half of the twentieth-century.
We say now to ye who crafted the failed vestiges of such: Cling lightly to the burnt remains of this trash you left us.
We’ll finish it off, or tear it from your grasp with a wrath of mind, memory, and momentum never before known to this godless rock of unknown origin.
And after, you’ll learn to thank us for casting away the false symbols and idols from the idiocy that is your pitiless ongoing past; and yours only.
Remembered only by those of us to warn the future:
Of how not to be.
At work a (millennial) was snorting
about his weekend trip to a casino
how he was sick of wearing a mask
how he didn't care if he died or not.
I asked him what if he were to tote
the bat flu home to his loved ones
he gave me the F.U. (boomer) stare
walking away in smart phone glare.
Here comes the Boomer remover,
A geriatric hoover,
come to sweep up your complacency
And puncture your dismissivenes
so don't dissolve into hissy fits,
Or lectures on snowflake millennials,
Your snide and tested perennials,
'End the lockdown now,
Long live the new normal' is your siren cry,
but another, better world is coming,
It's no use trying to deny,
The pulse of history is running,
Out of your control,
So be a part of the solution,
you've got to choose your role,
And reconnect with evolution,
Now, tell me what's your 'verse?
No point in trying to fake it
We know nothing could be worse
Than your 'business as usual' fits,
No matter how beguiling;
Ecocide must consume us,
the original sin that leads to the fall,
Is that the legacy of the boomers?
So forget the status quo,
too late now for reconciling,
Sit down uncle, you're blocking my flow.
A badge of great honor
We wear it with pride,
They say it’s an insult
But we’ll let that one slide.
A boomer’s a doer
A person with Pep,
Marching alone
To their own special step.
The children of Giants
Who lived through a war
Instilling in us
The passion to soar.
They call us great bores
Whose opinions don’t count,
Incongruous has-beens
Our words they discount.
Little they know
It’s a wheel that does turn,
With each generation
Another to spurn.
Suffice it to add
We’re fine in our skin,
Whatever is said
They’ll still be our kin.
Millennials are brash
They message and tweet,
But most just innocuous,
In-fact rather sweet.
They look at their parents
The way we did ours,
With fresh consternation
Like brief summer showers.
When all’s said and done
For boomers like us,
There’s nothing more pleasing
Than life without fuss.
Mr. Chuck Schumer
Is a Baby Boomer
His real name is Charles Ellis
Aren't you just insanely jealous?
In the long grass on the island of Toomer , lives a great big bird called the oomer boomer.
Now this bird is not like any partridge or pheasant, on the whole the boomer is really quite
pleasant. It’s beak is quite long, and it’s wings are quite tiny, and his claws are long and all
skinny and spiny.
But the weirdest thing about this bird, is a noise like something you’ve never heard. For as
the sun rises into the sky, the bird awakes and gives a big sigh.
Then the oomer positions itself on a ledge, with its bum pointing upwards, and its head in the
hedge.
Then it takes a deep breath before it starts, and proceeds to let out a massive great fart.
The fallout from this is felt all over toomer, thank goodness that there’s only one oomer
boomer.
Can you remember Lost in Space, Bonanza and Gunsmoke?
How about Leave it to Beaver—all the fun they`d poke?
The Dick VanDyke Show made us laugh, and so did Mr Ed.
And all the married couples had to stay in their own bed.
Jeannie couldn`t show her navel. Father did know best.
Tom and Dickie Smothers really failed the censors test.
Red Skelton was a classy clown who always made you smile.
Ed Sullivan ruled who was hot, and who would wait awhile.
Barney lived in Mayberry with Opie and Aunt Bea.
Mockingbird Lane was the home of Grandpa and Eddie.
Flipper ruled the ocean blue, and Gentle Ben the land.
Lassie barked until he knew he made you understand.
Bewitched showed us a mortal married to a cute, blonde witch—
Defied the laws of gravity with just a little twitch.
Petticoats were at the junction; the nun was flying high.
My Favorite Martian stole our hearts. And Laugh-In said good-bye.
Gilligan and Skipper tried to keep the rest from harm.
And Eddie Albert took his wife—from New York to the farm.
These shows were entertainment, without blood, and guns, and gore.
And maybe someday, Hollywood will see this, and make more.
My skin is all wrinkled
my muscles are jello,
I'll tell you right now
I'm one bummed out fellow.
My joints are all achy
my eye sight is shot,
it feels like my head
is clogged full of snot.
My lungs are all blackened
from decades of smoke,
I'm not in good shape
and I look like a joke.
I used to be able
to run a fast mile,
now every ten feet
I rest for a while.
I need a new kidney
a heart that beats right,
I need a new bladder
that last's through the night.
My teeth are all gone
and my ears give me pain,
I don't have the sense
to get out of the rain.
Just some complaints
from a speck on the earth,
that life is not easy
for what that is worth.
For years we have gone hunting.
I've loved sitting next to him in his deer blind
or sitting quietly in my own.
Now that Boomer came into our lives
I see all living animals as having feelings
and I can't stand the thought of hunting.
Boomer is our bassett hound.
He thinks he is human.
I sometimes think so too.
The way he has shown me
that he feels things like we do
has changed me forever.
Now, all I can think of is that
if a dog can feel emotions like we do...
can a deer?
Are they afraid?
Do they know why we are sitting there?
Do they hate me?
I have to explain this to my husband
and pray he understands why
our hunting days together are over.