Remorse Over Savings Spent Poem by Ted Sheridan

Stuck here in my life; with only my wet dreams of success.
Having constructed the hut I inhabit, from the clay of failure
One upon another of my half baked ideas lacking mortar,
piled high like a Tower of Babel; before it all tumbles.
I strive to reach my final reward; be it as it may.
I enjoyed my years of drinking and smoking weed; drunken
and listening to music recorded on an antiquated analog system
and reformatted to Dolby digital; with the expressed permission
of the artist; who may or not be formally named Prince.
Hendrix watches from the watchtower that Dylan built
on Maggie’s farm. While I try to piece together my priorities, killing termites
and filling holes with sand and concrete. Blight after blight of pesty evidence
lead one to conclude there is a superior being;
one brighter than the rest; calling in the heavy artillery
As I plumb the walls of my appreciative heart; for its beat is all that keeps me alive,
so my mind might have a chance to survive just long enough to see
the distant warships and death barge coming.
Oh to be young again; that I might have married wealth.

2008 © T Sheridan