deepundergroundpoetry.com
THE CONSPIRATORS
THE CONSPIRATORS
Look at this piece and sit to contemplate
your precious life and how you spend your time.
Today's exactly like the day before,
and you are getting old, but you don't know.
Have you thought of the tricks that time can play?
It shows you that no change is taking place ;
you're numbed by its intoxicating stew.
You eat it and you see no change in you.
It makes a deal with mirrors that cheat us
and make us see no change from day to day,
but suddenly we feel that we have changed,
and everything around's conspired with time.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________________________________
Look at this piece and sit to contemplate
your precious life and how you spend your time.
Today's exactly like the day before,
and you are getting old, but you don't know.
Have you thought of the tricks that time can play?
It shows you that no change is taking place ;
you're numbed by its intoxicating stew.
You eat it and you see no change in you.
It makes a deal with mirrors that cheat us
and make us see no change from day to day,
but suddenly we feel that we have changed,
and everything around's conspired with time.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________________________________
Published 25th Jan 2020
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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Why would “things around”
(whatever “things around” may be)
be interested enough in me
to be a co-conspirator with time
to make me oh so suddenly
begin to see myself as
filled with years
and in decline?
Time and “things around”
don’t care a fig about my state
or how I’ve come to be
so startled when I see
there’s now a wrinkled face
reflected to my eyes
whenever I am brave enough to stand
before a looking glass.
They surely think
that it would be a waste
to even spend a measly nickle
or a dime to let me know
how I could rectify the fact
that I’ve become a man used up
and live and look
no longer like I did
when I was in my prime.
(whatever “things around” may be)
be interested enough in me
to be a co-conspirator with time
to make me oh so suddenly
begin to see myself as
filled with years
and in decline?
Time and “things around”
don’t care a fig about my state
or how I’ve come to be
so startled when I see
there’s now a wrinkled face
reflected to my eyes
whenever I am brave enough to stand
before a looking glass.
They surely think
that it would be a waste
to even spend a measly nickle
or a dime to let me know
how I could rectify the fact
that I’ve become a man used up
and live and look
no longer like I did
when I was in my prime.
