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