Crick, crack, my aching back!
I’m ‘bout to have a heart attack!
Buried at the bottom of a laundry chute.
Ashes abound with chimney soot.
Got to sweep this floor to find
That last straw and peace of mind.
Sink of dishes mounding high
Is this the life? I ask you why?
Grass to mow and hedge to tame.
Porch to clean, man this is lame!
A little help, you know I’ll pay!
Neil Young was right, man needs a maid!
A tent and truck are all I need.
In the forest living free!
Like a frog on orange, hard to find,
Mayhap I’d even rise and shine.
Or build a cabin just in case,
Into my life rains fall and paste
This black cloud that circles round
To my head and wears me down.
Or a house to home my endless stuff,
You know too much is never enough.
There’s got to be some higher road
Where I can dump this heavy load.
If I could find that right-of-way,
I’d make that change right here today!
The whole world’s weight to cast-away
Along with every last cliché!
Poetry by SS Matthews