It’s that sometime again.
We got troubles
troubles got we,
everywhere we go,
everything we see.
We live in troubled times
sometimes they live in we.
IF we feel sunk
it’s due to the bunk
of troubles
that afflict you and me.
Troubles that shouldn’t even be,
but they happen
in spite of the actions
we employ to correct them
before they become our troubles.
Every choice we make
seems to breed them.
Everything we do
seems to feed them,
the troubles
that afflict you and me.
They appear large
even the small ones.
They pop up
projecting disorder,
people looking under their chairs
For troublesome consequences.
Who cares?
They’re there, horning in,
scooting us off our chairs.
We’re always expected to move over
to make room For the newest arrival.
the one that’ll pop up to rival
the troubles that already be.
So when it’s that sometime again,
it’s bunk.
We know we got our troubles
and troubles have always got we.

 

“Bunk” by: Patt ©2016