Resigned, Resigned, Resigned Poem by Margaret Alice

I’m typing a list – now at number 49
the strange thing is that
although I hate it
I’m resigned enough to carry on
while the characters in my head
are going insane, breaking all rules
going overboard
creating havoc in a make-believe world
where everything is larger than life
a melodrama taking place in my mind
while my hands are typing –
and I thought if I tried really hard
I would start liking this sort of thing
but I hate it all the same – luckily
I am resigned to my fate
concentrating on the promise
on the horizon - that one day
I’ll have a pension and then
can go off to see the world
though at this moment
I couldn’t care less whether
I ever see this world or not -
I need a new consciousness
a new awareness, my old mind
has to be replaced – I’m looking
forward to life after physical death
my mind is full of doom and gloom
cannot bend itself around to see
the beauty that is glowing around me
the golden sunshine is wasted here
stuck in this mind of mine, I’m just a
statistic – a survivor of the
horrible performance assessment
now the joy of a new manager
is waiting for us, how weary,
stale and unprofitable – just as
Shakespeare said, this world
seems to me – I’ve made a mess
of this life that seemed so full of promise
when I was young – now all that is left
is typing a list of names, it is a game
to send it on to the President
people complaining about Mugabe
as if complaints would help, all a game
without a positive end…