Stricken and Strangled

Stink me, stank me, String me up and spank me, Be a lady tonight, just once, And not so nice, Just take me in your hands if you want And don't crucify me When I stick my tongue in your secret place! Stick me, stack me, Don't turn me loose! I have a lot to say these days, But it doesn't go very far. My house is in tatters, My leg movements fettered, My freedom of movement is toast Like everything else I like the most. I'm waiting, I'm flailing, I'm failing-- How many more wasted hours will there be Wrested from all these fake and earnest complaints, These aching bones and hours and flesh? We are all inflamed with it, Infuriated by, arrested by, flung far by The lapses, lunges, leaps Of everything that can be alarmed-- Just like this damned old age that won't Leave or arrive, won't fold, Whether we dare speak it or claim it Or milk it or cleanse it or what! Those who may tell it Are not exactly congratulating us for it. It's not so bad to be old by yourself, You can figure out a way around almost anything Or else just cuss profanely and Decide it doesn't bother you any more Like it did for fifty years! Not much sense in that! But being old among the young Who are still walking past and going fast With no concept of what it seems like to others When young people dash in and out of a crowded walkway! You bastards under forty don' make much sense, either, With all that adolescent snot still hanging from your nose, So, no, I DON'T trust you to be as accurate As an Olympic athlete going for the gold. I expect you to be clumsy as a seal While you don't care how I feel And you pretend there's no one else On the planet but you, At least no one of any consequence. Your Mamma should slap your teeth out Or should've just choked you in your crib, But she didn't and She's not around to be ashamed, And God might do it in her absence, But He hasn't been seen Or heard from in these parts for years.