TOPSY TURVY

TOPSY TURVY

My life it has gone topsy turvy,
It's been that way for quite some time,
Like a sailor with a case of scurvy,
I've swum too long in the salty brine.

And now I stand amidst the seaweed,
Never a man to grovel and plead,
For one small favor, one last chance,
To take to the floor with my love and dance.

My life has gone a tad bit twirly,
Upside down and hurly burly,
And I've been exploring my feminine side,
Emotions raw on a carousel ride.

Now without my magic pills,
I break into tears at the slighest provoking,
Have even pondered marijuana smoking,
Which I have decided against for now,
But it will be my sacred cow I'm sure at a later date,
I guess I'll have to move out of state,
Or to the county jail.
For my bank account's so paltry,
It could never pay my bail.

My life it has gone topsy turvy,
I've fallen hard, head over heels,
And better watch me when I drive,
'Cause I'm quite the hell on wheels.
The head over heels is a literal reference,
I want you this to know,
Not to put on empty airs,
I fell in love a long time ago,
Now it's backwards down the stairs.
Mind you never a whole flight,
For that would be a frightful scare,
The beginning of my darkest night.

I would not want to exaggerate.
A fall that huge and gargantuan,
Surely would have done me in.
Not to mention rubadub-dub,
My hapless falls into the tub.
Not to mention my busted up knees,
And all of the times I've fallen on these.
But enough about falls for I've a theory,
That what we focus on soon into focus zooms,
And my lover man is already weary,
Of cleaning up spills in these carpeted rooms.
Lovingly he cares for me and I of course for him,
I would not care to see his patience worn so gravely thin.

My life it has gone topsy turvy,
Head over heels, hand over fist.
Perhaps I need to remove skydiving,
From atop my latest bucket list.
Confine myself to Shakespeare, Eliot, and Ezra Pound,
I tend to do my level best at pursuits done lying down.
And so I'm off to read my verse,
Or perhaps to Walmart to spill my purse,
And babble incomprehensibly to the clerk,
Who will wonder what brought this piece of work,
Into her checkout line.
Spouting his nonsense, wasting her time.
Perhaps she knows a speech therapist,
I know it sounds draconian,
But speechlessness it can afflict,
Even a robust Parkinsonian.

My life it has gone topsy turvy,
But one day will come when I shall not care,
For I am cunning and I am nervy,
And I just may vanish in thin air.
I will become a friendly ghost
And haunt the ones I loved the most,
Where once I used to hesitate,
I will most proudly levitate.
Reclining with a bottle of vintage wine,
In heaven I will spend my time.
Like a scurvied sailor relieved from disease,
Even in death drinking life to the lees.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2013
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Note: I owe a debt to Alfred Lord Tennyson for the memorable phrase "drinking life to the lees".