Inchcocks Ode To Life – 4¾

Meandering (he knows no other type) Ode to Life, in which Inchcock bemoans his mental and physical conditions.

Well, wouldn’t you?

Thursday 16th December 2021

I sense the sanity, logicality that I used to find absorbing,
It is now departing my personage and brain… slowly ebbing…
Is there no chance of a semi-restoration?
At least a partial rehabilitation?
With meditation, concentration and circumducing…
Will hope become a possibility of memory-enhancing?
The Thought Storms arrive… sometimes only fleeting!
Even so, the brain-box takes a terrible beating!

But there is no point in me moaning and bleating…
To escape pains and be active, I’m not that contortionistic,
To recapture common sense – how? I’m no academic…
Not that they are coping with the Covid pandemic!
Unknown, mental disorders on man’s brain are feasting!

Life to me is akin to my terrible blogging…
But without any face to face dialoguing,
I absolutely love a friendly bout of chinwagging…
Being deaf can make life a smidge disparaging,
And my ode ideas always seem to be dingdonging…
For detail from short term memory, I’m always wrestling,
I fell in love the other day, she was only fortysomething!
I suppose you’ve noticed my habit of subject-hopping?
Starting on, say, food, sex, intentions etc., constantly swapping!
I find forgetting things humiliating, gut-wrenching!

These Thought Storms, persistent, then suddenly vanishing?
But they will return, with their Tardis swooshing…
I can be doing anything… weeing, singing, teeth-brushing…
Sometimes they can set me off soul-searching.

I may get hit by a good idea, but it’s only ever glancing…
Other occasions drive me into a mental-panic, screeching!
I’m not normal; that is a well-known thing…
I sense there is someone always watching…
Whether I’m sleeping, eating or doing the washing…

And the itching fungal lesion, I can’t help scratching!
Which, of course, starts it off again, bleeding…
I usually just clean it up and do the medicationing…
Then feel sorry for myself, at how it is hurting!

But a Beep-Popper By Night!

Years ago, I loved to go Be-Bopping,
Nowadays I get tired after burping!
Occasionally, I sink to witwantoning,
Not for long, I routinely fart and start yawning!
Fall asleep, dream of me and Grizelda, tobogganing.
We’d exercise, for suppleness and strengthening,
Have multiple sessions of in-depth, close-up cuddling…
Then, I’ll wake up… none of it was true – bloody sickening!

Part of The Inchcock Make ’em Laugh in Ode Series!


16 thoughts on “Inchcocks Ode To Life – 4¾

  1. A meandering stream covers more territory than an onrushing river crushing its way through that territorial expanse without investing the time to notice things of interest that a meanderer deliberately shares: right here.
    Hear here!
    Today we view a three-wheeled vehicle of yore, engaged in the vital act and art of trimming those redundant gas-lamp wicks. Yesterday, we found our hero embroiled in fighting the friction of distance with the hand-driven three-wheeled vehicle of this year.
    Hear here, deer dear!

  2. Gerald does gerunds. The master of participles in present. Oh! But the thought of tobogganing on Grizelda. BTW! Do you know why men snore when they sleep on their backs? Their balls fall over their butt holes and cause vapor lock.

    • The only time I can listen to the radio is in the wet room doing the ablutions, Billum. I try to time it so the carers have tp fetch me out… Hahaha! Only joking.
      Your house looks beautifu Sir. All that room and space! Great choice.
      TTFNski, all the bestest. ♥

      • When I was a kid, I listened to my AM tube-driven radio. Had a log of distant cities I tuned in.
        This house is the wiseest decision ever. Got it in 1987 and it has tripled in value. And the maintenance man, Alan, lives in the loft.
        All the besteth to you, Sir. Christmas unboxing Day is only 4 days away!

Leave a Reply