Sunday 3rd April 2020
Inchcock’s Confessions In Ode
Written By Alto-Ego Inchie!
Ode to this blogger, he’s a harmless old bugger,
With an awareness of life that gets floppier,
A self-hatred that grows and gets klutzier,
And a body, getting ever fleshier and wobblier!
A memory that is no longer a memory…
A brain that adopts ideas much loonier!
A cancerous bladder, getting ever leakier!
A sex drive that gets measlier and measlier…
Dead as a dodo, really; even his memories are foggier!
Bending downs is not easy; now he’s got paunchier,
He could do with a hearing-aids amplifier…
Today, his many wee-wees were a lot splashier?
His sanity and logic are much less secure…
His cataract and glaucoma eyes, his to endure,
No signs yet of any operations, that’s for sure!
He doesn’t believe he’ll live long enough for a cure…
He’s searched to find someone he can nouriture…
But he’s given up now; why? He’s not sure…
Mind you, he’s not looking to arrive at his cloture…
That’ll have to wait a bit, his final sepulture!
For a while, at least, though, life gets squalider…
Inchcock’s never been tops or an orchestrator…
Although he was once a bus conductor…
There’s one thing that would give him pleasure!
This’s important to him… before his foreclosure,
He doesn’t want to be richer or shrewder…
But summat, that goes against his very being & culture…
Not experienced before, it will put him in rapture!
To get something right, just once – before his departure!
Other than that, how’s it going? LOL! Loved it! You missed your calling. What’s Shakespeare compared to that? Hunh?! Tell me now! Danke!
He was an imposter, methinks Doug. Or I was born too late. Hahaha!
Cheers.
Excellent ode to start the day.
Cheers Mon Ami!