All right, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close-up ~ Saturday, May 17, 2025

Am I too old, too poor, too small, too soft
maybe too aloof, locked up in a loft

I might be found lost in an undercroft

tell me what I can do to become young
old age chases me down, a grizzly bear
on the prowl, up a tree, dripping honey

old age makes life taste like dung on my tongue
life is a miracle, each day, I weep
death becomes me, one day, I will die, fear

transforms the mold, shapes the lack of money
old age matures wine into vinegar
old age makes me tired and fall asleep

provide me a place to siesta, please
or else, I become feeble and unkind
of course, I may be a lecher, a slease
remember, I may appear callous, blind

though, I am eager to learn, funds meager
old age makes me grow wise, constant defeat
obeys the facts that this life is not mine

suck it up, bitch, this world is my prison
maybe, I am not a big man, they beat
a child into submission, to rebel
like a titan against the gods, to dine
like an eagle on my liver, my son

take a bow and leave the stage, now, you seem
obscene to the public, they ring a bell
obtuse like an angle, legs open wide

spread, ready for my close up, small cheval
old age makes me flaccid, to take a bride
for these golden years, what a joke, one ball
tea bagging, young man, old age is a dream