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New Year’s Resolutions are Vicissitudinal Poop

Can broken pledges reaffirm life?

Another year has now arrived,
the prior one has past.
I’m glad that I’ve again survived,
and hope this year isn’t my last.

Resolved: I’ll eat the foods I should
in portions of reasonable size.
Resolved: I’ll run and stretch real good
and do other great exercise.

Resolved: I’ll give my thanks and pray
and be true to His holy spirit.
Resolved: I’ll do some good each day
and do nothing that might queer it.

But even as I speak these words
I know they are not true.
They are just little verbal turds.
Ritualistic dog poo.

Yes maybe for a month or so
I’ll change my bad old ways.
I’ll give my healthy life a go
and restructure my days.

But then I’ll twist my back or knee
and stop the running or walking.
I’ll go to a wake or a party or such
and stuff my fat face while I’m talking.

Then soon I’ll be my prior self
as the bad old habits return.
All my grand plans will be on the shelf,
and again I’ll have heart burn.

I’ll regain any weight I’ve shed
and help my arteries clog.
And then next year if I’m not dead
I’ll promise to diet and jog!
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Copyright © © Lee Goldberg 2011, 2012, 2013. All Rights Reserved. Contact info: leegpoetry@gmail.com

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