Working hard is what we do
Each day this place we show up to
Selling pie and pastries too
Wiping tables when we're through
That's just life for me and you
Day two of my 30 day poetry challenge: write a five-line poem to the last person you texted (or fb messaged in my case since i lack a cell phone)
If a needle was to be put in my capillaries to forget you
I'd been a walking void.
If each time I thought about you could grow my hair by an inch,
I'd been the Tangle you read about.
If changing wrappers of my skin had not worked,
Could change my skin and bones.
If you were on the moon
I could study turning all upside down to be an astronaut.
Had my heart not recited your name,
My sleeves hadn't been upto this stretch.
If I could have a job of making you happy,
You would been immortal by now
If I were the Leonardo,
I had painted you smiling
That went unseen ,yet prepared for your birthday ;just as silly as it sounds.
Bodies sold at a retail price
To hearts which are colder than ice
She sold her soul and pride for money
While inside she was dying alone and empty
Beaten and bruised badly
She took every slap boldly
when it came to scars
She had one too many
She a victim of her insecurity
He an addict addicted to ****** gratification
*** driven with no particular destination
At home he had a wife who lost her passion
So prostitutes became his substitution
Seeking them in the day, seeking them at night
Just so he could fill that empty spot
***** at a young age,
so she fornicated with rage
Anger in her eyes
fear in her heart
pain on her mind
Numb to pleasure
she only smiled when she saw dollars
Wore dog collars
as man acted like they owned her
A property for hire between her legs
Men would love her and touch her, hurt and destroy her, abuse her and mistreat her and no one would defend her
To her love and pain all felt the same
Sifted sands sold,
To buyers buying better,
Shifting tides of time,
Sounding down the mountain,
Streaming in space,
As the man,
Souls to the buyers.
lead them to believe
in a charlatan
like moles they were
to the false god
they were following
he who had nothing
of the Messiah's
never did it dawn
that he was selling
a religion based
none of his disciples
being overly astute
and still they're listening
and still they're standing
with his stead
and still they can't eye
the paucity of street cred
He looks like the moon from the sky,
His radiant eyes would steal the sunrise,
His shoulder stood high,
Heartbeats as if he smells his likely world
on his arm, there is everything but a tie!
He just doesn't have a job, been interviewed,
He expressed his qualities, many quantities,
but lost, walked out without a offer!
His sunny face was still shimmering.
The successful one, murmured 'my friend
you wasn't smart enough selling yourself!'
I don't think I wanted to do that, he replied:
Am is willing to serve to earn the means
to be served, don't mean to sale and buy.
If ethic has no value maybe then
a job is nothing but 'sale and buy'!