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Hoarding Yourself
A box of puzzle magazines
And half are half filled in,
And tapes, cassette and VHS,
And knick-knacks in a tin,
And all the books I haven't read,
And can't get to before I'm dead.
And all the toys that in my youth
Could gladly fascinate me,
Now lurk in darkness in the stacks
Of boxes that await me.
Sad looming thing that I've become;
What gave me joy now leaves me numb.
I look at all the weighty things
That bow my sturdy shelf,
What is the worth, to thus erect
Museums to myself?
It bears the stink of vanity;
And more when no-one come to see.
I cannot longer bear the weight
That yesterday bequeathed me,
The life that I could live, au fait,
Calls from the ground beneath me.
Step out, away, and none too soon!
Like butterfly from a cocoon
I shed the clutter all astrewn,
And let fresh air bewreath me.
And half are half filled in,
And tapes, cassette and VHS,
And knick-knacks in a tin,
And all the books I haven't read,
And can't get to before I'm dead.
And all the toys that in my youth
Could gladly fascinate me,
Now lurk in darkness in the stacks
Of boxes that await me.
Sad looming thing that I've become;
What gave me joy now leaves me numb.
I look at all the weighty things
That bow my sturdy shelf,
What is the worth, to thus erect
Museums to myself?
It bears the stink of vanity;
And more when no-one come to see.
I cannot longer bear the weight
That yesterday bequeathed me,
The life that I could live, au fait,
Calls from the ground beneath me.
Step out, away, and none too soon!
Like butterfly from a cocoon
I shed the clutter all astrewn,
And let fresh air bewreath me.
Even allowing for female rhyme, the meter has a few inconsistencies to it. I like the theme, but there's a fine line between a hoarder and a collector, I guess. I'm not sure that's even what's gong on here, particularly because of the mention of unread books. A hoarder would be someone who had finished them and had no intention of reading them again, but still couldn't bring himself to get rid of them. This feels more like an exhortation to get outside, away from things that tend to keep someone cooped up. Which can be a fine sentiment, depending on the person, though it makes me wonder whether this is related to shelter at home culture, where the person is getting stir crazy, and any chance to go outside would be preferable.
When I've accumulated stuff
That fills my living space,
It's left for me to make a choice,
To clear it out, or face
A Mappined life inside the cages
Formed by all my prior stages.
That fills my living space,
It's left for me to make a choice,
To clear it out, or face
A Mappined life inside the cages
Formed by all my prior stages.