April 30, 2021: Making My Way

                  Making My Way

Warehouse work can be mindless,

And the laborers come and they go.

The bosses aren’t known for kindness.

Work is hard and the wages low,

 

But the bosses seem to like me here

Because I earn each dime I make.

They can always be sure my face will appear,

Even if I’m sometimes late.

 

It may not be much, but at least it’s a start

Until I find myself something better, . . .

At the interview, you can bet I’ll look sharp.

I hope they’re impressed by my letter,

 

Since I haven’t got much for a resume.

I hate those damned applications.

I never know the right words to say for

“Excuse my cut short education.”

 

But I know I possess great intelligence,

And I’m keen for a chance to learn.

I know how to be a gentleman.

I just hope for a fair return,

 

As I struggle each day to better myself,

And as I pray for my sisters and brothers

That they’ll help support Mom, who is not in good health,

But I don’t mind my bread without butter!

 

It’s just that sometimes, I feel so low

Then I step out into the neighborhood

Where there are so many people with nowhere to go

Who are jealous of anyone’s good.

 

How do you get to peace of mind

When everyone’s into your business?

Yet where  people look on when they see a crime,

‘Cause they’re afraid to admit they’re a witness?

 

The dealers and the gamblers party all night long,

And talk in the hallways is crude,

But when you live in the ghetto, you’ve got to be strong.

I know it’s a matter of attitude.

 

I’ve learned how to hustle, and to follow my hunches,

Because nothing is sure when you’re out on the street.

I’ve learned to scuffle and to roll with the punches

As I strive to be clear and to stand on my feet.

 

Success will be on by that last extra mile,

And I’m hip to action that’s all across town!

Life is good, and I choose to smile:

Nothing of this world’s gonna get me down!

April 30, 2021: Kind of an Ode to Duty by Ogden Nash on www.poeticous.com

Kind of an Ode to Duty

O Duty,
Why hast thou not the visage of a sweetie or a cutie?
Why displayest thou the countenance of the kind of conscientious organizing spinster
That the minute you see her you are againster?
Why glitter thy spectacles so ominously?
Why art thou clad so abominously?
Why art thou so different from Venus
And why do thou and I have so few interests mutually in common between us?
Why art thou fifty per cent martyr
And fifty-one per cent Tartat?
Why is it thy unfortunate wont
To try to attract people by calling on them etither to leave undone the deeds they like,
    or to do the deeds they don't?
Why art thou so like an April post mortem
On something that died in the Ortumn
Above all, why dost thou continue to hound me?
Why art thou always albatrossly hanging around me?
Thou  so ubiquitous,
And I  so iniquitous.
I seem to be the one person in the world thou art perpetually preaching at who or to who;
Whatever looks like fun, there art thou standing between me and it, calling yoo-hoo.
O Duty, Duty!
How noble a man should I be hadst thou the visage of a sweetie or a cutie!
Wert thou but houri instead of hag
Then would my halo indeed be in the bag!
But as it is thou art so much forbiddinger than a Wodehouse hero's forbiddingest aunt
That in the words of the poet, When Duty whispers low, Thou must, this erstwhile youth replies,
I just can't