The cardboard cylinder begins
to peek,
The prognosis is grim, the
outlook is bleak.
Only three sheets left on this
spinning white wheel,
And I'm starting to think about
how I should feel.
The plush, quilted days of my
youth have all passed,
When I unrolled with abandon
and lived life as fast.
Now the perforations are
marking the clock,
As I desperately downsize my
remaining stock.
Will I go out on glory, a two-ply
embrace?
Or be wiped from existence
with no saving grace?
The roll spins much faster the
closer it gets
To the end of the tube and a pile
of regrets.
I am down to the glue on the
very last square,
Just a ghost of a tissue, a
whisper of air.
So remember me kindly,
unspoiled and undone,
It was a beautiful, two-ply,
magnificent run.
One- Liner
Like the last square of paper
on a spinning brown roll,
we're all just clinging to the
cardboard at the end of the
bowl.
14 Coursing!
Reflection one,
Gematria is revealing,
14 is “Dai”, enough, done?
Tzoros are healing,
Rav C. Shumulevitz wrote “Con”,
Or “With” feeling “Busha”
For your missed mission,
Tzoros have done annealing,
Are no longer needed? Redundant?
14 also is “Zahav” or Gold,
Precious as a watershed?
Wisdom from Tzoros’ toll?
Speaking, thus the rock bled?
Small steps, downsize the goal,
Reframe anguished cries instead,
Wishful thinking? Fatigue taking hold?
Mussar to the head,
And to the heart “B’HisPaalus” bold,
7th inning stretch? Bullpen retread,
Journey & Destination are one fold!
Our numbers still they grow and grow
But on finite planet
What can we do; which way to go
So on earth we all fit?
Our numbers we cannot reduce
For then we go backwards.
So we must further reproduce
To continue forwards.
There seems to be no equation
So we ask our A.I.
Can it offer a solution?
And tell us what to try.
Perhaps we tweak our DNA
And make humans micro.
Now this could be our only way.
Let’s think of future show.
Micro people would consume less
When just few inches tall.
This would reduce pollution mess.
Our impact would be small.
It is the rational way to go.
We must downsize to fit.
And our numbers can further grow
On our future planet.
Living a long life can be at times trying,
when people you've known are moving on, dying..
Eventually we all come to the end of that road.
It's best to get prepared, not just be that squashed toad..
Larry passed from lung cancer from his years in the navy..
Karen died of cancer too, of which she fought most bravely..
My dad went peacefully while he was asleep.
Micheal left while on the toilet. Good grief!
Be by accident, disease, or so-called natural causes, how
does one prepare for the "d" day that befalls us?
1. Be a good scout and prepare for the unseen and
pay close attention to your personal hygiene.
First responders who will arrive on the scene, much
prefer a fresh corpse and one that's mostly clean...
2. Before fate propels you to heavens gates or up
to the skies, get those finances in order and try
to downsize.
3.If your blessed with a good ticker, consider
donating a body part. Some one out there whose suffering
might possibly need you're heart.
Death is the ultimate climax of life so be prepared to eliminate strife.
If I Was a Seagull
If I was a seagull
I wouldn’t have a bank account
I wouldn’t watch misery on TV
No concerns about the economy
Prices rising constantly.
I’d have my own nest
And wouldn’t need to upgrade
Or downsize. My kids would
Leave home naturally.
I’d find enough to eat everyday
I wouldn’t gorge and put on weight
I’d go wherever I desired
I’d be able to sleep when tired.
If I was seagull, I’d be able to swim
Walk and fly. Leave excrement on
Passers-by, laugh and squawk at will.
There’d be no lingering death if ill.
No coffin and false funeral
No religion and propaganda
No investigations by Panorama
No sex abuse by the clergy
No exams, no measurable stress
No jealousy, no hate, no misery
I’d be able to have sex, obviously
No bullying, bulimia, autism or
Dyslexia. I’d suffer from tourrettes
But never need the vets,
No Shakespeare, no poetry
The odd cat might worry me.
If only I was seagull.
David Cox 08/08/22
She keeps a loaded *****
in her shoulder bag.
She once found an unused finger
and has been thrusting it
at hapless men ever since.
She loves TMZ and Nancy Grace.
She sells space to celebrities
and their attorneys.
She harangues her cosmetologists
probing for their facial weaknesses.
She carries a Pekinese with diamonds.
She is a mother of cloud-children
that live on the outskirts
of her other interests.
She diets on crustaceans and couscous.
Her soft parts are pummeled
into snapping turtles.
While I was away,
her hard buttocks came to visit.
they left a card that said:
Your home has been remodeled
to suit a better class of person.
You need to downsize immediately,
contact my office
for further instructions.
I approached the authorities -
they just shrugged.
We hunger for wonder
When appease is the disease.
Fill to the gill with swill and still
miss the bliss.
Settle for what’s peddled
Yet crave beyond the grave.
Beware of despair
And reverse the curse.
Hold out for the knock out.
Don’t compromise for the downsize.
And look crosswise when you surmise your demise.
The miracle is in the spiritual.
Not the estate we await.
Global Temperature Rise, is telling us
the human race, has to revolutionize
Our Warming Oceans, is not surprising
with dying coral, from dirty emissions
Shrinking Ice Sheets, will increase demise
with no action, flooding our streets
The Glacial Retreat, needs to stabilize
for all life, wanting to compete
Decreased Snow Cover, is very unwise
for nature’s creatures, with territory hangover
Sea Level Rise, needs to minimize
for life’s protection, not for traumatize
Declining Sea Ice, is bad downsize
with warming skies, a human enterprise
Extreme Whether Events, are negative highs
with total destruction, and tremendous agonize
The Ocean Acidification, makes us realize
we are killing, our life’s evolution
Strong winds of time accelerate with age,
sweep toward the unsuspecting,
forging alliances with atrophy and arthritis,
debilitating the innocent.
The hurricane of decline begins with gusts,
barely noticed in years of productivity.
But without warning gusts become streams.
Streams turn into torrents.
Torrents, tsunamis,
opening submission's door.
Downsizing's time has arrived.
Stuff is now a dearest friend,
space the greatest enemy
in this geriatric ritual.
Time laughs at tears,
celebrates pain
as each treasured object
is evaluated in unsteady fingers.
Piece by piece is slated for separation
and taken away by unfeeling hands.
The enemy has won.
What if there were aliens making plans to invade and destroy planet earth? Perhaps they would rethink their strategy and observe what's coming to birth. Perhaps they would of necessity downsize their war budget and fighting armory. From miles away they would watch our world bath in massive disharmony.
From miles away they would watch our world bath in massive disharmony. Perhaps they would of necessity downsize their war budget and fighting armory. Perhaps they would rethink their strategy and observe what's coming to birth. What if there were aliens making plans to invade and destroy planet earth?
081120PSCtest, Mirror Mirror, John Lawless
Flowing down my cheeks
I cannot restrain my eyes
Like life has gotten to the peaks
And had begun to downsize
Overburdened me with much sorrow
Has the stress of today
Uncertain of the certain tomorrow
I'm still searching for my way
Those happy moments of cheers
Now been replaced with tears
Even so, none of the available beers
Could help me overcome all my fears
To release the stress, let me cry myself out
And try my best to escape through the spout
Say a heartfelt "adieu"
to the weight you used to accrue.
Downsize to widen your view,
but keep your barbeque.
For everything, say "Thank you."
Keep your heart and hopes new
with love and laughter to pursue.
Begin this year with a breakthrough
and be relieved with a "whew!"
12-31-19
Horace was a hoarder he kept everything
Rusty machinery, old books, paper and string
It wasn't just his waste he could not throw away
Horace collected other junk every single day
Completely unable to put anything in a bin
To Horace this was wasteful he thought this a sin
Soon his house was bulging with garbage galore
Every room, hall and stairs stacked from ceiling to floor
One would think by this time Horace would realise
He had an addiction and should try to downsize
The rubbish started rotting took on a putrid smell
Horace seemed not to notice and thought all was well
Perhaps one day soon not too far away
Doctors will find a cure that will help to allay
This awful disease so hard to understand
It's not a way of life most of of us would have planned
Did Horace choose to exist with this way of life
He seems quite content it doesn't cause him strife
Why should it bother us, we are not all the same
It's called the luck of the draw life is like a game
We all see things differently on this we must agree
What we call an affliction others call eccentricity
he engaged the endeavor
to be successful
they sited his past
successes
and marveled at
prospects each current condition
allowed
effectiveness and likability
began the outline
each move anticipates
an answer
each word was marked
by consequence
they listened to his every word
to downsize
the ego he had allowed to
follow him
his voice sounded across ages
and his body was wanted
in every corner of the world
they saw him as a means of
recreating the image of masculinity
from endeavor to endeavor
his showmanship has been measured
and his value equated
those who wish to be apart of him
in work, must see him as an
endeavor
quick and kind
right and real
wrong and understood
mean as a man should be
insight of creation
that his sperm is as wanted
as the air from his nature
effective his words
understood in every language
sought his talents
appreciated in every culture
wanted him as lover
adored in it's being
endeavor to endeavor
kind, mean, and clever
that all shall feel his presence
and speak of him
as champion
best in the world
the greatest of all time!
Obscure the scars
Reach for the stars
Memorize the epitaph
Autograph the photograph
Photosynthesize and downsize
Realize even the leaves tell lies
Obstruct the construct
Deconstruct the aqueduct
Revitalize those we idolize
Ties cut with loathsome lies
Progress but also regress
And redress the congress
The duality of our reality
Is surreality and fatality
Reach not for the stars
Simply obscure the scars
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