#715 - birthdayscape

 

17.xii.21

715

2.351

birthdayscape

take it from the top of my head

 

just one day

oh you shouldn’t have

 

find oneself waking

how on earth?

 

and soon enough

it’s everywhere

birthday all time zones

other worlds as well

nor any reason it should end

how many can you count?

 

further from so closer to

they keep coming

greetings, presents, wishes best

 

in the village of the birthday

everyone big smiles

 

so far so smug

to have survived

 

many happy returns

just to make up for the fact

pluck grey or dye?

a mug’s game

 

keep spectacles

well out of the glass

 

you can do no wrong today

but have to be put up with

 

surprise surprise

then this is your life

my only source of undies, socks

 

reflect upon the Was

of thus much Wizardry

 

all those years before

were me too

and once upon

this history I’d be

was crammed into

say egg say seed

say what you will

it’s too much information

 

Confucius opined

that by the time I got to this stage

I should be completely harmless

yet one wobbles at the foe

with words and scowl or grimace

 

it’s just the sun come round

no purpose

this one’s an insignificant number

 

yet pause, pass GO, collect

 

view inward too

city of bridges and boats in the sky

mazes and more to be read

a room full of voices, islands to fly

 

none of this ye know not today

 

it’s day of anything allowed

think of a crime to commit

think of another one

 

settle down now

aches all insignificant

it’s Beethoven’s birthday too

and the Pope’s, Ford Maddox Ford’s

Prince Rupert of the Rhine’s

of course there are unmentionables

must not muddy

 

a loll, a doddle dawdle day

 

the chocolate cherry

tot of rum

 

I party up the distinguishing features

and risk of overdo it, true

 

never forget siesta

it’s how I got here in a dream

to kip under tree

then it’s Christmas

close enough

 

this was the day, still is and will be

 

get furrier

hold court

continue receiving

forget a plague of mortgages

or wonder what the poor …

 

brows over – my own jungle now

imagine poor devils who work for a birthday

and then their lives are gone

 

I spend mine in deeps of a poem

lonely, but the garden gives

 

this isn’t the cat’s, it’s mine

 

ignore the world roar

must paint a way out

 

begin resolutions now

tinsel me too

for a Saturnalia

we all must tear, must rend

 

this is a day for not going anywhere

day for no purpose built

 

I wake up in my special suit

and that might be enough

 

on a day like today you ask

is it just the old yoga?

no, I tell you

it’s all things new

if you make them so

 

there’s nothing was ever worth worshipping

I never salute the same sun