Regarding ageing and the tendency for body parts to stretch and sag, as the years roll by.


Eternal Life

Getting old
Is surely hell,
The teeth will rot
And the body smell,
What once was upright
Sags down below,
Where it will stop
Can anyone know?

Now Billy-Bob
In room seventeen,
Can't remember the last time
His privates were seen,
They are buried below
His pendulous gut,
Whereas, there is no mystery
Regarding his butt.

Considering, Berthalinka
In room two eighty-nine,
They say, "When she was young
Oh, she was so fine",
But eighty years later
Her bosom has expanded,
Close-up? You'll be thinking
The Martian's have landed.

Now, open your mind
And rap on this thought,
During youth, we're caught up
In some appearance, we've sought,
But later with ageing
There is a sagging and swaying,
No matter, your discipline
Your flesh is betraying,
Overwhelming your efforts
To camouflage time,
After 70, your body
Will sag in its prime.

Some youth, will be thinking
Eternal life is for me,
Not realizing the possibility
In two-thousand and forty-three,
Where the answer, for immortality
Will be in a Cracker-Jack box,
Declaring, "You must first live
Seven decades on the clocks."

Sure, you can live forever
Amidst the sagging and swaying,
Some will ponder the universe
While others will be praying,
For the answers to live
With each pendulous part,
Eternal life, reconsidered
Buffet, or a' la carte.

Fibril_late;
2/21/09