4503. I'VE MADE IT

I'VE MADE IT
I've made my life a simpleton of suppleness now,
bending thwarted leaves like a field of trees and
grass - every new day has its own horizon, and
each storm cloud passing can be read as a message
new. There are writings on the sides of big barns - that
stupid old language of tobacco ads and cars. Like
Mail Pouch wherein you keep your balls. Today's
world, whatever, would make it work - they'd change
a few letters, go with male pouch, and have a field day.
And I bet the modern ladies would laugh; as they
mesmerize the members with their greed and grouch,
the loves and lusts of panties and hearts.
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Oh, it's all so wonderful now and vague. A man
comes on the TV, everyone watches; another dies,
everyone watches. Some carbuncled hero of deceit
and venom takes the stage and wins the day.
I've made it : but to where, I can't say.