Peep Poetry 2: Future Cat Ladies of the World

Future Cat Ladies of the World Have you ever seen the hoarding cat ladies I could see me being one Except I hate cats They smell funny And germphobes end up cleaning the kitchen with bleach Just out of disgust How many just got tired of the boring drudge of housework? Where every little mark on the wall became a recrimination Where the endless details of stains, chips, and marks Was a line so long without end? Her name is Margaret, Maria, Rachael, Elizabeth, oh it really Doesn’t matter, their numbers are legion Whatever her name no one hugs her at night As she returns home to open her Can of tuna and to eat her crackers slowly Until it’s time to go to sleep And escape the world She’s turning 30, 48, 55, 67, this October, this April, her parents supported Her a long time or threw her out onto the mercy of the social workers But she has yet to fall in love. She tried to follow the rules But failed. She dreamed of the prince that would come and take her away From her parents and jobs that chapped her hands and paid too little With bosses always shaking their heads, telling her she was too slow. Told to always work on her appearance, always either too fat or thing Without the right shape. Be empowered, be confident, have a good attitude, Be anything but YOU! The years slip through her fingers, the endless dead end jobs, And being called a slob and just trying to make it The prince never called, his white steed stayed away, only his fascimiles Of ones that joined the chorus of deceit, drugged out, stoned out, psyched out, Just out of jail, divorced, homeless they wanted to take more then give, Happy ever after nightmares, she was smart knowing there was worse things Then being alone. Time fading, she takes refuge in things, their pretty colors A distracted to the faded grey of her life Collections of cats, plastic pieces, knickknacks,pocketbooks, matchbooks, books, glasses And nightly trashpickings reach to the ceiling. Objects never leave, and objects never reject. They just are. Though they bury you. What happens to future cat ladies and Hoarders as their mountain of thrift items Replace the dreams that have faded What happened to the life that never materialized? You can’t buy it, collect it, or find it in a dumpster ******************* This poem I know used to shock my poetry club too. It's really about me and fears I had about my life when I was in my 20s, single and alone with a few edges of today's fears of living under the highway underpass.  I also can take refuge too in things, though for me it has been sublimated in a more healthy fashion into a stamp collection where there's thousands of mini-pictures to look at. I have to go find my Queen Spider poem collection, I'll be sharing that later. Those haven't been typed yet. I'll put them up as a series.