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Nat Lipstadt Nov 2023
At What Cost?
This Purchase of Our Future

a thousand answers + variegated shadings, a summation:


of millions layers of our owned chosen complexities,
so many possible outcomes, it makes infinite randomness
seemingly simpler than our googolplex crazy preposterous
notational choosings, our owned decisions which though false,
cause nothing is tandomn random except for love at first sight

it’s all  just *******, we conditioned from pre-birth,
the expectations subtly subsumed into the woman’s womb,
overlaid by the ***** donors whisperings that you will be a
great third baseman, or a great bass player, or both, but
“your” fate, ha!
is anything but yours…
to purchase!

if you were born to live in a home with no heat, and water was
obtainable by walking 100 yards away, you would still be a
pianist, writing notes of plaintive need, grand desires, musical
words of agonizing delight just as when
you first blushed when the brain
connected yellow rays with a word,
sunrise,
and an experience was synapticaly imprinted,
that real things could be defined by an ordering of letters and sounds
and you were tongue burnt by a need so great
to collect these pleasurable things and put them in a right order
of your
peculiar
particular
personal
inherited inputted
design

=
and
you yet debate
what is my instrument,
knowing that the multiples of your fingers
are the engine of your existence,
and on any particular day they, your well connected perma-crew,
will pick which is the chosen one,
and
no matter which,
for you had nothing or little purchase,
it was coded in your pre-history
just as you prepare a transmission list
of your own,
when you daily first touch your face,
closing the sensory sensual connection tween
the ephemeral and the physical
and
the new combinations
that you will imprint upon
someone’s flesh,
that is your right,
that is you write,
that is what you were
predestined,
to
create

but,
(what the heck)
you get
to-pick the instrument of the day…


(
that,
is your purchase, your only cost,
everything else has been
pre-paid
)
Thu Nov. 9 2023
8:51am
ny
annh Feb 2019
pledges to purchase
intent on acquisition
baby-grow wishful thinking
5-7-7
Anya Sep 2018
Sometimes,
I feel like a little ant
Scrambling
To find purchase on the rock
Known as my mind
Donielle Apr 2017
We were lovers before we were friends.
You wanted to build a nest in my tree
before bothering to climb it
or learning me
to see whether or not my branches
could hold your home
filled with things upon things.
You wanted big things
nice things
shiny and expensive things.
You didn't want to decorate me,
you wanted to use me like a coat rack
to hold your winter coat
over summer.
You never asked if I liked things.
You assumed
that there are things I like
and things that I don't like
but it isn't things that I want -
it's people
and feelings
and moments.
It's everything that can't be bought
that brings me joy.
But you,
you were so sure
that if you filled my mouth with
money
it would mute the sound of my discontent.
But it only made me creak louder.
And when you tried to keep my hands busy
with the job of holding the things
you bought for me,
you thought
it would stop me from
pushing you away
when you whispered at night
that you loved me,
and now it was my turn to say thank you
by doing things
written in fine print
at the bottom of your receipts.
But you can't pay me to stand tall,
to hold your things high off the ground
when the flood waters rise.
You can't place your coins in a slot
to make a tree bend to your wind
or let you tether off your boat
to weather a storm beneath her limbs.
You slipped me so many tips,
but I don't have a price.
We were lovers before we were friends,
and we were strangers long
before we said goodbye.
Dr Zik Apr 2015
Heart cannot be purchased
As currency is matter of no use
Only one can succeed
Who deals in barter system!
Dr Zik's poems
cait-cait Jan 2015
its okay if you
dont love me,
im fine from
the side, only as your
friend, deep in the
depths of
skinny love.
i know im upset,
and i know you
want me happy,
but ****, what would
i give for even
demons to be real,
so i could purchase your love
with mine.
fanfiction upsets me

— The End —