No Vanity Set For This Chap, No Way

(in praise of immortality)

 

Modesty an understatement,

when eyes chance

to look askew at looking glass,

mine reflection caught at a glance,

an old man's piercing dart

mirrors my blinkered acquaintance

faint recognition communicates

immediate tacit admittance

boyish good looks faded

with morning glory of youth

as senescence didst advance.

 

Similar to the strikingly handsome

Dorian Gray, this mortal

strictly shares penchant to affiance

a pact with father time, and

devoutly pledge allegiance

to remain forever unaffected

with ill fated biological alliance

even if mandate to pay

with my soul as sole allowance

to stave off the ravages of old age

maintaining glowing ambience

of boyish good looks, or...die...

twill be to late for an ambulance

to rush lifeless body

forthwith to hospital emergency,

an immediate appearance

of rigor mortis, a dead give away.

 

Cumbersome degradation of

corporeal essence breeds arrogance

born of desperation,

where chronological ascendance

robs cherished commodity,

thus pained angst

to suffer aging accidentally evinced

looking askance

hints of unavoidable assistance

when wracked by incontinence,

thus rendering incumbent orderly attendance,

 

hence awareness awakened to singular

choice as avoidance,

where vigilance espies silent auction

as decrepitude ousts clutching buoyance

quickly fading steamrolling capacitance

to cling (by the merest thread)

fat or slim chance

against depredations of...

inevitable circumstance trumpeting

"NON FAKE" absent cognizance,

sans horribly wizened wrinkled countenance!