not for sale
The world’s hands pressed on windowsSubjugate the golden soul with the banal-
The gleam marred by oily fingerprints
And now only reflecting this seedy caul.
The worn fray of want that held the price
Can only increase your deluded desire-
Its tactile warmth from mmm friction
Is the faux cool of a choked fire.
This store is closed, but the market is open
To pander to your narcissistic caprice-
Browse the catalog and Read the signs:
“Look elsewhere for your selfish peace.”
Labels: poem
3 Comments:
I think this poem is one of your best, the choice of words is stellar. I think this is my favorite, really well done.
I found myself thinking of this again, long after reading it. This is something special. I was looking over one of my favorites, the prophet, by kahlil gibron something within reminded of your poem. Perhaps you can indulge yourslef in some selfish time and read or re-read a classic.....busy bee, whatever you were "thinking" at the time, go there again and create another one like this, please??
i'm glad that this poem has garnered such attention. ironic statement i suppose.
interesting (i supposed that's relative) side-note: this poem's original look is a la ee cummings with spacings and lines surrounding the inner stanza. too much trouble to capture that in html.
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