Plethora Of Pus Poem by John Sensele

Worries and their cherries spell disaster
Stealing our joy and killing space and time
To progress and address more pertinent issues faster
Than wasting time on a mediocre climb

That gets us nowhere useful
If we indulge vagaries of worries
Deluding ourselves wasteful
Pursuits and their suits grant salaries

For which we long
Like proverbial ostriches
Dreaming to Utopia we belong
Streaming reams of reality riches

That never come
Whether we fuss on the bus
Or self harm in a bid to disarm
Fantasies and ecstasies in a plethora of pus.