If I retired, wired and worn

formed by years of service

and worse, love of the U.S.A.,

it would come slowly, glowing

with a waning lunar affection

for directing the process

by which a lifting sensation

of doubt seems more like

light walk in the park.

If every one is retired, fired

or on leave,

it could sleep well with

the enemies of this state,

a gift, whereby sifting in the sand

for brands of new geriatric

need takes more imploring

resources than most sources

will ever support or reveal

at this time.

Why, maybe playing kick the can

can wane this wistful disregard

a war or two starts in the young

and youthful few who might

defend a good spartan new age

and golden dawn for sport,

toying with the vicious clueless

intruders who, eventually,

will acquiesce.

I stress the sarcasm targeting

each syllable here,

it’s weird to wind up and actually

state a great generation might

grow old and lose control of a nation

who has made them victimized

and polarized with how they may or may

not have been treated.

The feat then is in not feeding the needy,

but the whimsy of a forgotten and disenchanted

aging constituency.

And it never will be satisfied completely…