In Sandy on a Sund’y
Can’t even buy a pie
The High Street is a ghost town
From some Kafkaesque sci-fi.
Not a single caf is open
No point in asking ‘Why?’
So I’ll just go down
To the Rose and Crown
And give their roast a try.
The film set has now altered
To a Sergio Leone
The barman with the hang-dog look
Is sitting all alone.
I enquire after Sunday Lunch
His reply comes Brummily spoken.
‘No food today,
I’m afraid to say.
The chef’s right arm is broken.’
So homeward I trudge
To a can of stodge
That I’d been keeping handy
And I curse the day
I decided to stay
In this Sabbath-subserving Sandy.
Categories:
subserving, humor,
Form: Rhyme
Sometimes things work, sometimes they don’t,
And that is perfectly fine,
Actually, come to think about it, when they don’t,
Maybe it’s just a sign
That I need to get up and leave the comfort,
Of things that I’m alongside,
Instead, to go out and experience all of the new,
Release the “me” that’s inside
Wanting to explore, discover, and invent the
Creations that do what I want,
I think this’ll leave me fulfilled and assured,
Leave me feeling way more confident
About not subserving to the gadgets I have,
To live with an alternate plan,
A plan of being able to make my own things,
Of being an autonomous man.
Categories:
subserving, freedom, self,
Form: Quatrain