By Anthony Ward
As we grow older, We become firmer. Rigid with responsibility- Making us brittle. When you’re young, You’re soft and ductile. You don’t feel hurt The way we do. Where we were once quite agile, We’re now quite fragile, Much stronger in mind, Than when we believed we were.
A Fine Wine
These finely aged novels, Stored like bottles in a cellar, Become all the more portent with maturity. You want to drink their contents, Be intoxicated by their words, Until they have you speaking so fluently The language pours from your mouth. While those staid sober Will stress you’re slurring incoherently, That they’re far too precious to be drunk
If I’m the only person that exists, Then why don’t I agree with everything? If everything that happens is about me, Then why don’t I like it? If this is all a test Then why am I being tested? And who is testing me if not myself? If I’m the only person that exists, Then why can’t I control my own destiny? Why aren’t I master of my own mind? Do I really exist? Or am I merely a figment of my imagination? Why do I constantly doubt myself? If I’m the only person that exists, Is this world meant for me?
Where do I begin? Where do I end? Do I take a calculated guess? Am I a machine following routine Programmed for purpose? Am I cause and effect? An automation? A machination Parasitically infected Thus affected To be me?
Grin and Bear It
If you show a fear of life It will snarl and growl Bite you And claw you to pieces You need to bear your teeth Smile like you mean it.