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  • Writer's pictureartahammer

Sentimental Retardation

Sentimental retardation

Slipping back to an earlier time

Life was gentle, a brain vacation

All loans were above sub prime

It’s easy to regress

When life becomes a mess

In coping with distress

Folks tend to thinking less

So rarely we address

The cause of untold stress

The desire to repress

Our need for our progress

If fairly we assess

The thinking we suppress

We’re bound to acquiesce

Youth is where we obsess

When we were so much younger

Somebody had our backs

They gave us food and shelter

Perhaps some well earned smacks

They made all our decisions

Gave us all that we did own

The reward of supplication

We didn’t have to be alone

When you fill your head with sentiment

Don’t wonder where the present went

So backwards we drift

To the wiles of the past

Such comfort in the familiar is found

The present’s a gift

A lifetime amassed

For those lucky enough to still be around

When memories we sift

It all moves so fast

The pressures at present still tend to confound

Reach back for a lift

The present can’t last

Embracing the comforts of recurring sound

Oh baby, I love you

The only thing I wanna do

Breaks my heart to know we’re through

The looking glass

Seeing a world that doesn’t exist

The working class

Cling to the present that they missed

Repeated endlessly

It’s fucking pointless to resist

Defeated mindlessly

I’m afraid they’ll just insist

When you fill your head with sentiment

Do you wonder how your time is spent

The unknown is just so damned scary

We hearken then unto the known

Even when it’s legendary

Great tales have lives of their own

No reason then to be contrary

To sentiment humans are prone

We’ve seen it’s become customary

To leave such sleeping dogs alone

To limit the vocabulary

And so maintain a civil tone

Nostalgia becomes necessary

For needed changes to postpone

When you fill your head with sentiment

Mark outside with ash for Lent

Why do we have churches

No God could be that dumb

Tradition sustains them

To pluck the priestly plum

Why do we have kings

None prove they’re God appointed

Tradition their position

Through stupidity anointed

Why are we still racists

We still can’t figure out

Tradition fosters ignorance

Seems it’s what we’re all about

Why do we still show up for war

Certainly we’ve learned

Tradition lights the values

On which we all are burned

When you fill your head with sentiment

You empty it to some extent

© 2011

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