mmmmxii

chickens of men

that’s us, that’s who we are, and every last
one of us. how otherwise might we describe
ourselves? it does so awfully seem to be the
case to me. and i should know, i am surely

the tiniest chick, the biggest chicken of us all.
how might i possibly man up when honesty,
courage and chutzpah have all but vanished? so
who’s it going to be. which of us pekid weaklings

will finally step up to the plate in earnest, and
with sheer will and determination, hit that home 

run we all need in order to set our hearts aflutter 

with such zing that we might possibly locate our 

long lost mojo and make things happen? i do try, i
do. but, the ceaseless disappointment stifles me so.