A poem that speaks for itself. When the young and over-zealous try and change an “oldie” who is set in his working ways. Needless to say that it all ended in tears.

I ‘m too stubborn  to change,

I’m too far beyond range,

I’m too far beyond help, or forgiveness.

You’ll just say it’s my age,

Or my old luddite ways,

But how I do what I do’s not your business.

You’re never much fun

But, I get the job done

In my old skin, with old ceremony.

I’m old karma, old sutra

But that doesn’t suit ya,

Though your zeal, is so pure missionary.

I once knew a girl,

Now a woman like you,

With principles clinging to all that we’d do,

Hung up on her hang ups

And brewing storm in teacups,

Life was a down with a judgemental frown.

So, you’re here to reform,

As your virgin, reborn me.

You announce with evangalist air.

You will forge me anew

In the image of you.

I’m the cross that you so want to bare.

And you need lost causes

And big heavy crosses

Without causes and crosses, you’re lost.

But don’t try to retrain me

Rebrand and rebrain me,

I’m not sure I’m worth all the cost