Ode to Age & Judgement (Ode)

By Luke Labern

What on earth is your judgement's basis?
Treating age like a measuring stick
Keeping it equal -- homeostasis.
I'm only nineteen, but here's a l'il trick:
Call me a baby, patronise us all,
Say we've got rabies, we're clueless and dumb.
Undermine my intelligence and height --
Now you're not so tall,
You're not too smart, but you might be numb --
Lyrical assault that feels like a fight.

The young'un's wronged you, twenty years younger --
With so much drive, passion and effort:
All this, achievements -- and so much hunger.
Never has it meant less -- all you've been taught.
Look down on me, till I reach that age!
I'll look up at you, and distaste will spread
Like mouldy butter on bread, so, please:
You majestic old sage,
Could you judge me in a new way instead?
Your prejudice is foul -- bird's flu disease.

This criticism extends till I drop;
Relationships blown apart in this, too:
When the bubble of privacy is popped,
Ferocious, outrageous rumours queue.
Two years more mature... What does it matter?
If you wish to judge maturity, then
The one who says the least says the most.
This is not to flatter
Argument, but to say we're trapped in this pen
Of ours. Without a new life blood, we're toast.

I have respect for both adult and child,
Sadly I've found I'm right about all sorts
Of truths, both heartbreaking and passively mild.
A magnifying glass revealing warts;
Sometimes disgusting, often appalling.
Yet in that lies the beauty of battle.
What I write is what I mean: that years
Will tell us our calling --
But there's no set date: so all that prattle
On judgement -- the result of too many beers.