The Craven

 "Ghostly, grinning aged Craven, mumbling distant tales of yore"

Once upon a midnight lonely

I sat here, and I had only

Books and television shows

To push away my nightly woes.

Oh, I must get rid of those.

Mine eyes grow dim — I can't use them

To read my books, so close at hand.

They'd ease my frantic brain's demand.

You know how blurred my vision is — I'm sure you understand.

A different way I'll surely find.

Distraction of another kind

To find surcease for Monkey Mind.

So in my desperate situation

I wander through each TV station.

News from every warring nation

Does not entertain ...

It tires my weary brain —

But who to call?

Old movies all — Along the wall

I've boxes filled with DVDs.

Old friends abide, stacked deep inside

Who'll rescue me by playing these:

John Wayne, Astaire and Bogart there;

And pretty girls to win their heart

Are waiting there to play their part.

Band Wagon. Stagecoach. Casablanca.;

Again I'll take from these their art.

They'll sing and dance, and share romance

That blooms and fades just like real life.

The good guy wins; the bad guy fails.

The hero always wins a wife.

John Wayne prevails in all his tales.

Astaire's quick shoes have magic life.

His partners dance as well as he'll —

And backwards, while they're wearing heels!

My raging brain dispels its pain;

Contentment once again will reign

Within my soul

Forevermore!