|
Radio
ga ga they sit senile in their chairs,
Four
blank walls around them, with death-like
stares.
They
are in the departure lounge, waiting
for God to call,
Hallucinating
about angels, and wondering what'll
befall.
With
their faculties in tatters, and almost
round the twist,
No
point in asking them, if they'd like
a hand of whist!
'Age
Concern' has given up, I am beyond all
hope,
The
angel of death is on her way with another
shot of dope!
They
are a tad past their sell by date, as
anyone can see,
Commodes
at the ready, and nothing to do but
pee!
They
are auditioning for Eleanor Rigby, a
face in a jar by the door,
A
facial expression so vacant, that even
a frown is a chore.
Their
days a continuous boring waste of time,
Life
being a mere existence ridiculous to
sublime!
They
reminisce and reflect on, their many
years gone by,
They
want to make some sense of it, but brains
are in a fry!
Watch
the traffic lights change for entertainment,
its all they can do,
Red
to amber then onto green, its a pity
there isn't a blue!
Brain
dead with one foot in the wooden overcoat,
A
nice shot of morphine, and off they
float,
Until
the day that God calls 'time', and invites
them up to heaven,
The
pearly gates are open -It'll make a
change from Devon!
~&~
Copyright:
Kazytc 2007
~&~
|
