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Happy 40th

Alas, alas, you are 40 now
your 30s are truly behind,
you fight to retain your figure
and brain cells flee from your mind.

You could take lots of vitamins
to try and keep your youth,
or start wearing false things
and cap each dying tooth.

But, worry not about the above
- treat it all as trivia,
no matter how you decompose
old friends will always forgivya.

They will always see you as you were
so your youth you'll never lose,
maybe it's time to abandon sex
and cut down on the booze?

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Fight Aging

I will not just sit and wait
For my old age to arrive
But will duck, evade and hustle
And keep the will to strive.

I want to live and to discover
Life's wonders that remain
Feel and taste new experiences
Even those involving pain.

For what possible reason should I 
Embrace the end that is coming
When I can fight and fight again
To keep all my senses humming?

Impotence

I have a daughter who is ill
and she is also very sad.
She looks to me to help her
because I am her dad.

Dad's fix everything don't they?
Isn't that why they are there?
To stand and fight and win
like a powerful great Brown Bear.

I would like to fix things for her
to shield her from this storm.
Take all the blows and pain away
and return life to her norm.

But her adversary is mighty
it stalks her day and night,
won't let her eat to live her life
and her big dad mourns in fright.

This caring parent looks on helplessly
so wishing he could do more,
she is drowning in a deep sea while
Counsellors' advise her from the shore.

I’ll Be Me

I'll walk in the shadow of no one
Nor bend a knee to anyone alive
I'll march to the beat of my own drum
And do anything to survive.

I'll be just the man that I can be
Always honest, straight and true
I'll fight and fight to stay free
And count my blessings too.

I'll struggle hard not to falter
Look well at all there is to see
I'll prove I'm a born resulter
Or maybe ... just be me ...

Why Worry

We worry far too often
About climate change and such
About family, work, war and cash
We worry far too much.

Is it why we are put here
And is there a special plan
For us to tend the garden
For some coming omnipotent man?

There has to be a purpose
In our daily thrash around
Why we till and turn the same patch
of already seeded ground.

If only we could foster 
The sense to turn and play
And fight the over-riding drive
to meet our troubles halfway.

16th February 2014