Even though I just wrote this poem a half hour ago — at the age of 26 — I’m still going to post it under the Adolescent Poetry Jam category.

I hear 26 is the new 16.

Anyways, here’s some expression through written word.  Enjoy.  Or don’t.

Somebody else will.  There’s an audience for anything.


Disposable Income

At the age of 26, I finally realized that I have nothing.

But I’m not alone in this American dream.

At this age my parents had homes and offspring,

And I’ve been living in the same room since age 15.

I’m not really complaining,

Much was caused by my own design.

But factor in the cost of college.

To get ahead you have to get behind.

Even with nothing I have too much,

Physical memories and collected dust,

What to do with all this stuff?

I’m buried in mementos.

A perpetual cleansing, erasing the past.

For a new batch of memories,

That probably won’t last.

Throw it all away.

It doesn’t mean anything.

Throw it all away.

Accept new memories,

For which you’ll later pay.

Financing our future,

On minimum wage.

For the chance at a day job,

With better pay.

Throw it all away.

Disposable income.



Author: JuiceJohn

It doesn't have to make cents.

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