Psalm 90 going on 18

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Song 5, Psalm, 90


The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.




The Psalms have nothing

Good to say

About Old Age and Death

Few religions do.

It’s their last chance to convert

The Libertine. 

Fear mongering fanatics were numbered

Among the psalmists.


Legend says this writer was David, 

Who died at four score minus 10.

Being generous

And at the outside of his limits

I might have another 2 good years

Before I fly away.


I grow old

But damn it

At 78

I’m 18

I don’t move as fast

Or go as far

But my shorter step

And slower pace

Suit me well.


At 22

Elliot was full of himself

Moaning about old age.

Couldn’t he get hard?

Fantasyland.

I won't

Roll up my trousers

And go chasing mermaids.

I promise.



From "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"


“I grow old … I grow old …

I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.


Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?

I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves

Combing the white hair of the waves blown back

When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea

By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown

Till human voices wake us, and we drown.”

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