Bonus Poem of the Week: Stir Crazy Stupid

Stir Crazy Stupid
May 21, 2015

Man, do I feel stupid—clueless, vapid, dumb!
So many obstacles these days I’m to overcome—
Things with which I’ve never had to cope in the past.
Ah, if only I knew how to make this nightmare pass,
For really, I no longer want any of this to last.

I used to know my math as well as anybody else,
Yet these days, even my adding needs a little help,
And even my writing leaves much to be desired,
No matter how often I do it or how often I’m inspired.
Really, my grammar’s so sloppy that I’m convinced to retire.

My knowledge of events past has also started to wane,
And I doubt I’ll ever remember my state’s capital again,
Much less the states that border mine on our nation’s map
Or when water boils or freezes or how maple trees make sap,
And that’s just the textbook stuff into which I can longer tap.

I’ve also forgotten how to cook my own stinking meals
And how to tend to my bruises and cuts so that they heal.
I can’t even clean a room anymore without making mistakes
And leaving even more dirt and dust than before in my wake.
I honestly don’t know how much more of myself I can take.

I’m surprised my dogs are as well-behaved and well-fed as they are.
I’m surprised my house is still standing. I can say the same for my car.
I’m surprised I’ve any wits left to write this lousy poem.
Oh, how I wish these dark thoughts of mine would leave me alone
And that some good fortune would come via mail or phone.

I know I am not perfect and my flaws, like my perks, are many,
But when it comes to good memories, I haven’t any
Coming to the forefront telling me I’m still worth something.
Instead, I’m sitting here, still fighting for the one thing
To save me from this madness ‘fore my brain becomes worse than nothing.

I know that doesn’t make sense, but hey, I said I was dumb.
You’ve all just read my lament ‘bout how my brain’s now numb.
Something’s got to give soon, too, ‘fore things get worse,
And if I ever wish to add coinage to my purse,
I’ve got to do my part to see to the end of my curse.

Trudge away I shall, then, as my sanity carries on
Plummeting by the second as I sing this bitter song.
Maybe one day, Lady Luck will finally open her eyes
And brighten the path before me to where greener pastures lie.
Until then, I must march forth through that which I’ve come to despise.


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