Today I’m quietly sorting out
Or packing neatly into boxes sensible
All the USB cords spread about
Help comes as I swig some old black stout
Guinness can make strife invisible
Today I’m softly sorting out.
Revolution in my mind unsought,
Cut down thoughts unprincipled
Toward our USB cords hereabouts
On bad days I’m overcome by doubt
In suffering anguish, clearly visible.
Yet today I’m kindly sorting it all out.
I believe they procreate without
The knowledge of their owners quizzical;
Lord, these USB cords lounge about.
My living room was named “original.”
I’m on TV and going digital
Now I am still sorting/throwing out
The USB cords straggling hereabouts
How my heart sings 