Inchcock’s Ode To Maintaining One’s Sanity – Part 4⅓

Well, dignity too, really!

Alto-Ego apologies for the crudity of his introduction. But he lost this mornings argument with Inchcock, about whether they should get up early (03:30hrs) this morning to get this Ode done. He lost!

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Inchcock’s Ode – Violence

Sometimes, one would like apanthropinisation,
The world is going crazy, every single nation!
I no longer have any paid occupation…
Of course, this does mean less oppression,
I’m coping with the still rampant tellurians aggression,
Muslim, Christians, Catholics, Jews and Caucasians!
Black Death, now the fearful Coronavirus infection…
My neighbours tell me it was sent by the Martians?
NASA say on Mars, there is not even any vegetation,
Can we please have some verification?

I got carried away!

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Inchies’ Ode Verse 2 – Rudeness

Why do not Scooters & Cyclists show no care or empathy?
With pedestrians who are disabled, wobbly and elderly?
I’ve had three of them, two scooters and a cyclist, run into me!
Leaving me shaken up. Once with bleeding arthritic knee!
All just carried on, after looking at me all bolshie!
Now, when I can get out, I’m worried and do it nervously!
Cars parked on pavements, I have to hobble into the road, you see…
Passing drivers shake their first, and get all honky!
The language they use is curse worded defamatorily!
Doctors to visit, booster too, I hope it’s not snowy and windy!

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Inchies Ode Verse 3 – Wanting a Pee!

The state I get into, just taking a wee, bladder in contortion!
It either slowly builds up pressure, as if it wants an ovation?
Giving out pain is the bladders main occupation,
A trickle, sharp stabbing, then give Little Inchie some vilification,
Other times, things burst out, all at the bladders own volition!
Then, maybe it’ll start and die off, come again, utter vacillation,
The only thing guaranteed, is that I pee with great trepidation!

Ode Verse 4 – Hoping Sanity Returns

I make excuses for feeling depressed, like, I’m poorly & sick,
Too many ailments to cope with, that characteristic,
I may have a toothache, or feel a smidge asthmatic?
Always present, are the ailments that are arthritic,
And when Peripheral Neuropathy Pete goes ballistic,
Always a danger of a tumble, of them my fear is authentic,
When the memory goes, or things diabetic…
They are accepted easier, somehow not so dramatic?
Duodenal Donald, they tell me can be fatalistic,
What can’t? I’m going to stop being so idiotic…
Acting like a deranged lunatic… well I am, also nihilistic!
I’m not over-energetic, overenthusiastic, or over-optimistic,
Perhaps, I’m psychokinetic, psychoneurotic, even phlegmatic?
But I don’t know what they mean, me being simplistic…
Although the moments of semi-contentment are spasmodic,
So, being a foodaholic, into the fridge I’ll have a frolic!

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Part of Inchcock’s Make ‘Em Laugh Series

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