The drudgery of societal routine
By Stanley Collymore
I woke up this morning, glanced out of my bedroom
window, saw that the general weather was still
as miserable in outlook as the day before
and honestly would dearly and preferably have gone
back to bed if it were either possible or advisedly
judicious in the circumstances to do so. But
sensibly I instead went to the bathroom
and there as each morning I typically
do I hygienically embarked on my
personal ablutions, directly after
which I had a prolonged, hot
shower in tranquil isolation.
Then feeling infinitely better as a result of this
thorough an refreshing washing of myself
I then automatically, meticulously and
diligently prepared myself for the working day
ahead wishing for all that, I was in its place
a wealthy man and none of this routinely
engaged in, mundane every day, carry
on experience called living wasn’t
such a procedural and invasive
part of my daily existence as
for years, and specifically
in all features of what
ever occupation I’d
been involved in,
it had become.
But what else can a man like me do, eh?
Rob a bank and hope that the judge
and court jointly show leniency
concerning me? Become a gigolo, seduce
and hopefully get the chance to marry
a wealthy widow? Play the lottery
and forever expectantly hope
to win? Or acquiescently
shrug my shoulders,
accept the reality
of my situation
and dutifully
endure what
I’m doing.
© Stanley V. Collymore
6 December 2019.
Author’s Comments:
Every compos mentis individual at some time or other feels like this, and if they’re residing in Britain the weather certainly doesn’t help in the least. The key however to not succumbing to this sort of malaise is go on the attack. Look yourself squarely in the mirror, snarl defiantly at any figure of a defeated or defeatist person that you see there and then proudly walk away as the champion you know inwardly that you are! Now try it, Tiger!
