The Dying Art Of Living

In warm months I sit in a summery haze,
And harken back to the good old days,
When helmets and sunblock not in use,
Did not meet with accusations of child abuse.

And we spoke freely without worrying about connotations,
Of possible discriminations,
And people not on the verge of being homicidal,
All for the lack of thought to recycle.

We didn’t have to worry about being thought a sinner,
For serving our children frozen dinners,
And food served a purpose to tantalize,
Not ruined by critics who analyze.

And while our years may have increased in quantity,
Perhaps it makes up for what it’s lost in quality,
But if you don’t mind, I’ll be going back a bit,
To the years when no one gave a shit.

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http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/a-lost-art/

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22 thoughts on “The Dying Art Of Living

  1. LOL! You had me feeling nostalgic and then that last line made me laugh. What a great set up! By the way, your last three posts have dying in the title. Are you feelingva bit macabre or morbid lately?

  2. Blistering. The end has me cheering out loud! I love the way you have tuned this narrative to dramatise the weather too. Has a strong effect.

    (I accidentally published a post just now!! Needs a few more words added to it lol but we do have beautiful flowers today!)

      • I’m so thrilled it wasn’t too crazy! So much honesty in your writing Marissa as always. I’ve been away from WP so it’s been terrific to catch up on the freshness of your sharp cool wit. (Publish a collection!!!)

  3. Or maybe if we could just go back to being kids someone else would do all the worrying for us! No sunblock would be nice–I hate thinking about that.

    • Yes, I know it’s difficult with babies. I used to have to sing the ‘sunblock song’ to Anjelica. Somehow my ‘lovely voice’ temporarily mesmerized her for long enough to complete application.

  4. Pingback: Taxing Taxes | litadoolan

  5. Ah yes, the days when no one gave a shit. Guess they are gone for good. Now excuse me while I stir the cheese powder into my macaroni and light this ciggy with the butt of my last one. πŸ˜‰

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