this is not about golfing
A perfect day for golfing, and
I had an unusually loud desire
To murder the little ball
Pocked and printed with
Pledges of allegiance.
Announcing alliances to
Company’s ruthlessly bearing
Down upon poor bloke’s
Like me on sun-soaking days.
What an ironic game, golf is.
One so mind numbingly costly
And yet proving to humble
The rich and thick cigar
Smoking, money clip carrying,
Elephant pin, esquire estatesmen
Who can afford it, to turn into
Blue collar, beer belly,
Shoe and shirt service,
Dunkin donuts devouring
Democratic donkeys, by
The time that tiny round
Sphere of white agony
Has dropped for the 18th time.
Ah yes, the game of golf.
Just like life, golf is.
Even when you hit a perfect
Tee-shot, pinging so precisely
That you swear the ball
Just said “ouch” and then
Before you can finish the
Follow through, the last
Tree branch reaches out
And lightly taps it deep into
A fairway sand trap. Crap.
It is your duty and obligation,
In either game, to draw forth
Your weapon of choice, dig
Deeper and swing steeper
Than you ever have had to before
And stick one inches from the stick.
Yes, even when you can’t
Seem to find a course at all.
Life will provide you with as
Many balls as will suffice.
So grip it and rip it my friend
And don’t you ever think twice.
I had an unusually loud desire
To murder the little ball
Pocked and printed with
Pledges of allegiance.
Announcing alliances to
Company’s ruthlessly bearing
Down upon poor bloke’s
Like me on sun-soaking days.
What an ironic game, golf is.
One so mind numbingly costly
And yet proving to humble
The rich and thick cigar
Smoking, money clip carrying,
Elephant pin, esquire estatesmen
Who can afford it, to turn into
Blue collar, beer belly,
Shoe and shirt service,
Dunkin donuts devouring
Democratic donkeys, by
The time that tiny round
Sphere of white agony
Has dropped for the 18th time.
Ah yes, the game of golf.
Just like life, golf is.
Even when you hit a perfect
Tee-shot, pinging so precisely
That you swear the ball
Just said “ouch” and then
Before you can finish the
Follow through, the last
Tree branch reaches out
And lightly taps it deep into
A fairway sand trap. Crap.
It is your duty and obligation,
In either game, to draw forth
Your weapon of choice, dig
Deeper and swing steeper
Than you ever have had to before
And stick one inches from the stick.
Yes, even when you can’t
Seem to find a course at all.
Life will provide you with as
Many balls as will suffice.
So grip it and rip it my friend
And don’t you ever think twice.