“End Hoping”

 

c. 2025 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(5-25)

 

 

Hoping the end will come

It’s a fact that I admit

While baffling bums with bullshit

I might appear a rube

But there’s so much work to do

So do not think me crazy

Or intellectually lazy

I’m hoping the end will come

 

Hoping the end will come

With a nod to the inevitable

My heart only half-full

Teetering on the precipice

Of a lost lover’s Judas kiss

A pat upon the shoulder blade

As I turn away

Hoping the end will come

 

Hoping the end will come

Drunk on the worth of self

At the gates of holy hell

I used to think about the cost

Of living under a rock

But now it matters little

I dance as the players fiddle

Hoping the end will come

 

Hoping the end will come

With fatigue weighing heavily

My worries growing steadily

Concerns and cares arise

But seen through jaded eyes

I look upon the sunset

And ponder what I forget

Hoping the end will come

 

Hoping the end will come

Fingers lose the sense of touch

Evidently from a constant crush

I held on too tightly

To visions coming overnightly

They populate my head

When I am toss-turning in my bed

Hoping the end will come

 

Hoping the end will come

Like a sadder, wiser soul

Stuck searching with a fishing pole

I might have found a tangled line

If I chose to spend the time

But instead it came along

In a stanza of a marching song

Hoping the end will come

 

Hoping the end will come

Outside in the elements

A watcher, naked in his environment

Somewhere past the garden fence

Sold for a coin worth fifty pence

I would have wished for more

Than Pixy Stix at the candy store

Hoping the end will come

 

Hoping the end will come

I was just dozing in my chair

With a hint of smoke in the air

Eyes shut boldly wide

A lever for the powerglide

Cheeks afire and about to turn

Into a sinner at the butter churn

Hoping the end will come

 

Written on my iPhone 16e