Inchies Ode of Hope (Humour)

I need to have hope, again,

Can I? I'm not really specific,

Anytime, can come the final curtain,

I wish I could write in Hemingwayan,

But I've not got a clever enough brain,

I'd love to go to a retreat, possibly Himalayan,

Where money's not needed for life to sustain,

Where decency, compassion, one can maintain,

Without ridicule, by moron or villain,

When everyday activities are more of a pain,

Nowadays, just getting out of bed is a strain!

Knowing one will be abused again,

Vascular Dementia, my hopes are slain,

 VD brings depression, and many a bane,

Although I try to be polite and urbane,

My hopes begin to slowly drain,

Thought-Storms attack, as a mental chicane,

One gets ideas, more dangerous than butane!

Gone are my years of being a bibliomane,

Saccade, hearing loss and back pain,

Peripheral Neuropathy, a stroke came,

Diabetes, I even got stung by a drumbledrane!

Life seems to be going against the grain...

Life is getting to be extramundane,

Life is now, without a doubt, insane...

People are getting less humane,

Even I am becoming a lexiphane,

Bald as a badger, I have no mane!

Much of this Ode seems to be nongermane,

It's like my brain is hidden in a subterrane,

I'll stop now and have a mug of tisane...

From losing it altogether, I must abstain!

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Should I snuff it tonight,

Don't fret, not that anyone might...

I'll be content, with no thoughts to fight,

In fact, I'll be better off... well, I might!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Formulated for Fun - Please don't take this serious!

I Thank You!

Ode To Sudden Depression and Vascular Dementia

 Ode To Depression and VD

Emotions so changeable, unpracticable, unpredictable,

Memory lapses & blanks, midst Thought Storms, unresolvable,

Some, uninterpretable, all uncontrollable!

Self-hating thoughts, yet ungraspable...

Vicious verbal attacks, somewhat ungainsayable

Yet, minutes later, I felt gay, unflappable?

Only to sink back down; Incredible!

The gloom of depression, damned extirpable!

A wee-wee was taken, and I felt sulliable,

  Then I could have gone to the ball!

No depression around at all!

Ten minutes later, the darkness did fall!

I swore at this, in a low Nottingham drawl,

Up and down things went, Gawd, it was dismal!

No chance of feeling relaxable,

My sanity was questionable,

Then, a few minutes of remediable,

Semi-contentment, I did feel!

Depression took a regrip; it was diabolical!

Attacking, then self-removal?

Coming and going was remarkable,

This pattern was unbudgeable,

One moment. I seemed unattackable!

My smug attitude was uncrackable,

Then back to the darkness, so degradable,

Out of the blue, a while feeling amiable?

Again, I seemed so unflappable,

A polymorphic period, nowt controversial,

Then sod it, back to the abominable,

Uncontrolled lugubriosity, 

For an aperiodicity,

The darkness returned, the audacity!

I suppose, because of my caducity?

I silently let rip my built-up causticity,

I blame my own complicity,

I got Anne Gyna's pains, like electricity, 

Which is such a flaming pity!

I pray for a visit from friendly felicity,

I hope she arrived in fecundity!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Not one of my betterer days, Sorry!

Inchies Coronavirus Calypso

 

Coronavirus Calypso

Going into self-isolation,

As is most of the nation,

To get the toilet rolls in?

The chances? None to thin,

Coronavirus, payment for our sin?

Tellurians, you must not bump into,

Tatterdemalion or the well-to-do,

Urges to touch, you must subdue,

Cut your hair, have basin cut hair-do,

Having sex is still under review!

But pigeons can still bill and coo?

No food in the shops,

Bread, milk, you might find a few,

You'll have to fight and argue,

Battle with the determined queue,

Then blood and insults will spew,

The language'll be very blue!

You might try home delivery for food,

To sustain you and your brood,

If you do, try home delivery food!

To the delivery man, do not be rude,

Self-isolation is wrong, some folk argue,

But I'll not be involved over this, thank you,

HMG responses seem so impromptu,

Certainly going to cost us revenue,

Self-isolation, so many folk rue,

A bit of good news is overdue,

Confusion over what we must do,

We mustn't shake hands too!

Is mankind's end really in view?

Stuck at home, what do we do?

Clean shelves and dust that statue,

Pen some extra veins to your tattoo,

No food in, so no chocolate to chew,

Can't get out to buy, so no making stew,

Your plans and orientation, none askew!

Sit, read a book, perhaps of Fu Manchu,

Back of the fridge, mouldy Danish blue?

You're starving now, for tea that'll do!

Dig around the sofa for crisp-crumbs residue!

The nurse's visit cancelled too,

Mind froze, stagnated; what will ensue?

Where is the spirit of World War Two?

Is it the end? Will you ever again hear a cuckoo?

Is it to be that you'll not see another cup of tea?

Farewell, to your beloved tasty Glengettie brew?

Your mind gets depressed; whatever can you do?

Finally, you get a plan made and worked through!

Escape! Find food, and hopefully, a toilet roll too!

Your plan to go shopping, sanctioned by the Tenant's escape crew,

How to get us through, whatever can you do?

They don you with a wig to hide your bald head from view,

You know you may not return, but offer your neighbours a thank-you,

Creep out, staying in the shadows, your walking stick oiled too,

Arrive at the store, but what a sight greets you...

But it's the future, your deja vu, hitherto!

Empty shelves, fighting, greed, at Sainsbury's too!

Little fresh food, no toilet rolls, not even a tissue!

This was now a serious issue,

You give an Achoo - but nobody blesses you!

Last week, I departed, with a facemask on us,

Met a protesting, nasty gang of AntiMaskers!

Their mood, angry and ablatitious,

They knocked me off of my walking stick, so vicious!

All, bar one of the paramedics, were wonderous, 

He was an anti-face masker; and kicked me in the knackers!