Ideodynamics Of A Sugar Daddy!

strange things may happen
to a man in the evening of life;
dim light may affect his vision
and he's prone to falling in a ditch,
or get stuck in the crevice of a cave;
a prisoner of age that poor soul is,
waiting for death;
no visitors come to see him,
nobody is ready to listen to his tall talk;
if a Lotus in bud happens to see him,
she immediately sinks beneath the swamp,
as if she had seen a dare devil!
Roses see him as a famished thorn,
a patch of earth shrunken with drought;
a used un-serviceable toy that's lost it's charm;
a pet no more playful, no more lovable;
A horse no more fit to run the race
with a fast-footed filly;
his bones become rigid but his flesh gone loose;
poor soul of a man, how could you understand
as your heart still lives in the days of twilight,
you still yearn for the rainbows and reeds,
you still look for small niches to hide your head in;
tired sweating mares don't interest you much,
for they gallop not as good as fillies
but viola ! you don't care you limp!
What should I call it, stupidity,
or serendipity?
No, it's none of these both,
I can note from your trembling frame
the sensuous smoke of lust rising;
you have the right to live as you want
but please keep your stench off others;
you are old enough to be worshiped
but worned out too much to be loved
It's the destiny of old things
whose days of life have lost their suns,
whose lives' evening is heading towards dark;
and god knows when you get completely absorbed
by darkness and get lost in the thicket of night;
rather than be old and wise, be wise and old,
ask no more of neat wine or raw steaks
as your guts may not sustain them at all;
just hold your stick and keep dreaming,
day dreaming, star-gazing,
until you find the chance to dip your head in a swamp,
and you are choked to orgasmic death
That's good for you, for your ideodynamics!