That Old Man

That old man walked around for ages

Giving nothing of himself

Expecting his own entitlement

His own propelled self worth

He took and took ’til his hands were full

And his pockets overflowed

The crown he wore was comprised of sand

Under grey skies overgrown

When the storm hit

The old man took cover

But it wasn’t soon enough

His crown washed away

Into rushing waters

That tugged upon his hand

He slowly slipped into the mud

While the audience gathered round

To watch this selfish little man

With his hands holding tightly

Onto everything he had had

Until everything he had gained throughout the years

Was weighing his linens down

With his last breath now gone

a sudden look upon his face

He realized his grave mistake

As he did surely drown

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6 responses to “That Old Man

  1. Laciejay, you are a flower. Your words are nectar. Like a bee I come and collect them and satiate myself on the honey I’m able to make from them. You’re a doll. A light post. A full fucking moon on an otherwise empty night. Your written prose are like young perfect breasts; I have to have them. I desire them. I wish they were in my mouth, but they’re not. They’re in yours. Or at least in your mind. Which is where all things are, I guess. When I need something and I can’t figure out what it is, i come to your poems and your stories and I let them inside me. I let them own me, arouse me, and make me theirs. That’s a long way to say thank you for what you give me, but thank you. You lift me.

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    • Well thank you very much. I absolutely love getting comments from you. you give me the biggest smiles. I am really glad that you like the words I write. And I really love the way your responses are always so poetic. It makes me feel special. 🙂

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  2. Glad I made you smile! Knowing I made you smile made my day. For me, you’re definitely special. At least in this tiny part of my world, where I share my innermost soul with whoever cares to read it. I see a lot of my soul and myself in what you write; sorrowful and mourning just waiting and longing to find bliss. I wish I could be as open as I am on this blog and in my comments to you in my everyday life. But I’m in a prison. One I hope to break free from soon, but a prison nonetheless. A shiny, beautiful, and very very scary prison.

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    • Yeah, I know all about that prison you speak of. It sucks to be stuck in my own personal lonely hell. Some day I may find a way out, but for now, it is what it is. I like your openness on your blog. It’s very refreshing for me to read.

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