A poem from 2018
The more you do it
The less fun it becomes
Each hit needs to be a little more extreme
Sinking sand
Dissatisfaction and boredom soon set in
Before you know it you're up to your neck
How can there be a brighter future
When the past was so much better?
There was money back then
And we were all happy
Now all we have is an ever changing slogan
Designed to keep everyone excited
So excuse me if I see past the ruse
And plan for my retirement
Somebody who shan't be named
Had ten thousand men
He marched them halfway up a hill
Then they ran out of food
They collapsed in a heap
And near died from exhaustion
Grand Old whatsisname
Said he wasn't to blame
Bigger, better, faster, more
Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief
The body decays and turns to dust
And where did all those plans get you?
Be happy with your lot
Trust in your God
