Author Topic: Latter Years  (Read 2587 times)

Jake

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Latter Years
« on: December 15, 2005, 11:43:47 PM »
new poem...comments appreciated - especially from the older part of our community ;) hehe

Code: [Select]
[FONT=Times New Roman][size=2]
[b]Latter Years[/b]

I knew an Old Man once
who at his old age had developed
prostate problems and several other
urinary tract complications.

At first,
he used to run to the bathroom
anywhere from three to ten times a
night.
When he no longer managed to hold
it for the few seconds since he opened his
old eyes
till he opened his pant fly
his wife (a lovely, caring woman indeed
with problems of her own)
set a tin pot by the side of his bed before he
fell
asleep, and emptied it out in the morning
before the Old Man woke up. (he never pissed
too much)

At around that time, she moved to
the guest room and slept
alone.

The Old Man's health worsened with
every day as he approached death.
[i]Surgery is your only hope Mr. B---, [/i]
said his doctor, [i]We'll need some samples,
go here and here and there...[/i]

The Old Man's wife took him by the
hand
and led him over there and there and
here where the flashy nurse took over.
His blood flowed strong and the sample
filled up quick. Oh, bitter
irony
the Old Man could not piss when he had to.
He tried and squeezed and drank water by the gallons;
nothing.

Weary, tired, and bloated the Old Man and his
wife left the clinic in silence. Barely reaching the
corner
the Old Man began to piss all over himself
uncontrollably
his bowels roared and he soiled his pants. His
wife laughed and laughed and laughed so
hard
that she pissed herself as well cursing life and
God and all.

That night, as she lay alone in the guestroom bed,
she wept and wept and wept so
bitterly
that she wept away her soul and died.

The Old Man awoke with a jerk and
upon getting up tripped over the tin pot
full of piss and fell down on the floor with a
thud. He yelled for help.
He yelled and yelled and yelled so
loud
that he ran out of breath and decided to
give up. He closed his eyes and, as it goes,
pissed no more.[/size]
[/font]
Do not follow where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.

Ken Fitlike

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Latter Years
« Reply #1 on: December 16, 2005, 01:13:24 PM »
You have apparently developed an unseemly fascination with bodily fluids, axon. :p

It's quite prosaic and reads like a ballad.
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?.

Jake

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Latter Years
« Reply #2 on: December 16, 2005, 02:35:02 PM »
>>You have apparently developed an unseemly fascination with bodily fluids, axon.

I noticed that as well when I was reading the poem back to myself...i wonder what dear mr. freud would say about that? ;)
Do not follow where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.

-KEN-

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Latter Years
« Reply #3 on: December 16, 2005, 04:57:32 PM »
Something about your mother, I'm sure.

Freud was one big "yo momma" joke that people took seriously.