November Memories: Poor Happy Senile Old Man

 

Poor Happy Senile Old Man

I can never forget the days

When you threaded happily through the night harsh wind on our street

With your footwear that defiled all fashion logic and trends

Your face always wore on a unique smile

As you scavenged our dustbins and took away all the free nutritious foods

And got drunk on the chilled water from the muddy stream

Watching you up from my window was a joy

You were my special motivator when I needed inspiration

Whenever I saw you I always remembered this particular sermon

‘Wastefulness is Waste’

 

I remembered those cold mornings after last night’s downpour from heaven

And after the dew, when you threaded through matter on our street

Always acting as our royal guard on duty

The Royal Families of Earth would have been jealous

I remembered your classic ruffles and struggles

With the immortal supernatural forces

You were my hero then as you kept all the ghosts away

 

You were lonely, poor and wretched

But still you looked much happier than miserable rich folks

You had no friends

But you had an extremely loyal confidant in yourself

Better than all the friends in the world

I wanted badly to be your confidant, your companion and true friend

I wanted to know what made you so happy

And I wanted to hear you share your experiences with me

But unfortunately my wishes never came to be

 

They called your poor mad old man

But they didn’t see you didn’t feel like one

And their lives were miserable compared to yours

You looked sane to me

Even though you emitted the odour of the junkyard

And your original black curly hair turned brown

 

You always wore a happy face

Even with your bleak financial prospects

You didn’t owe a dime neither did you own one

Your only assets on Earth where the torn clothes

And the worn-out shoes you wore

That told tales of wars unforeseen yet

You were the only man I was extremely confident in

That could survive any great depression or storm

You were the best

 

Humans are cruel and wicked

They treated you like a homeless rodent

Stigmatized against you like you were Ebola itself

Cast stones on you like a run-away petty thief

Cursed you like you raped their children and hobbies

Killed you with their double-edged Samurai tongues

That was sharper than the sharpest sword ever made by man

Yet, when you walked on the street

You wore a radiant smile that the rich envied

You were slow to temper and never wore a sad expression

Even when thoughtless bastards splashed you mud on rainy days

You were my role model

 

At nights when all was dark

And only the street lights and the moon produced minimal lightning

I looked out my window after I had just woken up from a nightmare

I saw you lying on the bare ground with cozy cardboard serving as your bed

Laid neatly on tarred roads with rough stony edges

A smooth rock serving as your pillow and large polythene nylon as your cover-sheet

Yet you slept more peacefully than rick folks who had king-sized mattress

But where burden by fear of their wealth disappearing

You never cursed or frowned at all this

You were comfortable with the cold air serving as you’re Air Conditioner

And your body mechanisms as your heater

You were indeed a human maximizing all resources available to you.

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