Age Spots And Lips That Droop Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Psychotic are their problems.
Big and small ones hidden over time.
They did not have to keep them wrapped up.
They chose to medicate them,
With named brand solutions.
Given in geriatric presciptions.
With doses afforded,
And hopefully generically produced.
Or over the counter cheap solutions,
To ease symptoms of a process
Nurtured in their minds.

And these are the same folks,
Who worked to enjoy their retirements?
And I have enjoyed my life...
Knowing that when God said it was over,
That's when I would retire from it!
Not sit and rock away my time.

Of course I have been labelled crazed.
And I will never receive a gold watch,
For being that great and loyal employee.
Nor will a dime I thought was coming back to me,
In a pension plan...
Be lost or confiscated by a company drained by crooks,
Do I have to worry about.

However...
That would piss me off.
To work for the same folks for fifty or more years...
And not have a thing to show for it,
But age spots and lips that droop?
Stiffened joints and wrinkled skin?
The life from those kinds of folks,
Has been sucked from them to the marrow.
And here I am getting compliments,
For a firm behind.
And all this time,
I was working to have broad shoulders!

I have no complaints at all.
God continues to do me right!
I wake up each day with very little in my pockets.
And I feel like millions.
I go outside and see those with a few dollars...
And they would scare folks to death.
I've seen mummies in museums,
Wrapped and encased look better.

And these are the same folks,
Who worked to enjoy their retirements?
In what way...
I wonder?
Halloween only comes around once a year!