I ramble here,
I scramble there,
Words are spewed
No matter the size,
Nor of the care,
They fall to paper
Like dust to coat.
Be they near
Or just remote.
The only idiocy
Is what I write,
That is read by thee.
Like it, I hope,
Care you must
If these words
Are just the output,
Of a minds rust,
That says nothing,
I ramble here,
More by MFish
Into the sunset, he did flee,
as if there was something chasing he.
Where to go? Where could he hide?
For he needed shelter, for this ride.
Nervous was he, this lonely man,
running away without a plan.
What must I do to start over,
for I am now very much sober.
I'm just a poor man, all alone,
out on the street, not even a phone.
There was a time when I'd share,
a place with Rats, under the stair.
I did not choose to be this way,
but hard times came on that day.
I'd get a job, using my finesse
but the employer need an address.
Housing is not something I can pursue,
so a PO Box will have to do.
Always interesting when entering
the house and forgetting
to turn off the alarm.
As the alarm was squawking at me,
I was yelling at the alarm.
Probably something like who
the heck are your parents, et al.
The alarm stopped it's siren noise,
after I entered the pass code,
and received a call from a lovely
person at the Alarm Company, that
wanted to know if we were OK.
After I explained my memory lapse,
she asked for my password, which I supplied.
A very polite, Customer Service Representative
who was patient and understanding of
this old, forgetful person.