Generativity,
What a big word,
I feel like I’m floating,
Amongst the absurd,
Showered by crazy,
Committed by chance,
My life has been far,
From a novel romance.
And here’s to stagnation,
Yes that’s been my world,
A decade went by,
Whilst my sanity curled,
Up into the hollow,
That lives in my brain,
My neurones are merely,
A network of pain.
No partner, no children,
No friends to behold,
I wonder what foibles,
The years will unfold,
For life isn’t always,
A wonderful dance,
Sometimes your the prey,
In a predator’s glance.
So stagnate my,
Generativity fast,
I came for the show,
And I stayed for the blast,
A life full of squealing,
Negates all the fun,
A life full of dealing,
Brings meaning to none.
Now pull apart layers,
And sift through the char,
It won’t become long,
Before near begets far,
The life of a Phoenix,
Once burned to a crisp,
Reveals all its anguish,
And fear in a wisp.
Yes generativity,
Such a big word,
I tripped over life,
And I fell on a turd,
I try to find meaning,
I hasten to hope,
But all I can smell,
Is this pitiful dope.
© The Complicated Bunny – 29 Jan 2022
This poem is the seventh in a series of poems based around Erik Erikson’s Stages of Psychosocial Development which is something my psychologist and I are currently exploring.
The Complicated Bunny 