Thursday, September 17, 2009


I've been cleaning out my attic for several days now, and have at least two more days of work to do.  One of the reasons it goes so slowly is all the memories stored there.  Today I found an ancient plastic storage box containing all sorts of  things I wrote way back when...

These four were meant to be read together.

Dance, Dammit!

Come out, come out, wherever you are,
Be free to give and take and do!
Come out, come out, whoever you are,
For you are me, and I am you. 

The Recluse
(Or, "Well, at Least Give it a Whirl")

He never sought and he never found,
Never brought himself to look around.
He might not like the human race,
So he withdrew, just in case.
He'll never know, for he never tried,
And before he ever dared, he died.

Oh, Well
Or, "If you Can't Lick 'Em, Join 'Em")

The branches are bare,
The snow is late.
It's half-past time
To hibernate,
To lock myself
Within my lair
And get some sleep,
And lose some weight,
and wait, and wait.

If you live 'til Spring
And you want to sing,
And you're feeling fair,
And you're feeling fine,
And you can spare
A little wine,
Wake me up -
I'll have a cup.

The Cynic

The universe is static.
People don't improve.
Like dust in some old attic,
They're settled in their groove.
And history doesn't move,
Isn't going anyplace,
Who once was bad
Is still a cad.
There's no such thing as grace.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
You end where you egan.
God will love you if you trust;
If you don't, you never can.
You'll not become a better man.
Evolution?  'Tis the devil's lie.
You don't progress
or retrogress,
You stay the same until you die.


GretchenJoanna said...

I really like these! Especially "Oh, Well," which expresses that autumnish feeling so perfectly. Thank you for posting them.

Anastasia Theodoridis said...

Thanks, Gretchen. I enjoy writing this stuff, because I can't write real poetry.