Horizons moved in from the time that he left school
Freed from the painful need to think, observe, and read.
He’d served his sentence. No-one but the utter fool
Would willingly seek headaches once there was no need.
Why fill one’s mind with useless guff since all that stuff
Would not win him the good life, clothes and wheels?
With head down in the real world he’d quite enough
To make ends meet while dreaming of the perks he lacked.
A world of wonder lies unreaped beyond his ken
The diverse cultures, dress, the histories, ideas,
Good music, drama, prose, and verse. Thoughts of great men
He sees as snobbish rubbish, intellectuals queers.
World tragedy comes second to the rugby score,
Salacious gossip at the local Come-on-Inn.
Ambition’s dwindled to a weekly striving for
The big quinella or the massive Lotto win.
He is the expert though on almost everything.
Pontification of his mates nutritious grist
That brews inherent truths to question which will bring,
To prove his point, quick anger and a ready fist.
His psyche’s starved. His mind, fed on the thinnest gruel,
Swerves with the herd. His heroes cardboard kings of sport.
And while he likes to tell you he’s nobody’s fool
Life’s real riches pass him by, fate sells him short.