PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

He woke up with a pile of tiny gold thoughts,

Now all categorized and ready to be brought to market

he makes the mistake of thinking others will buy them,

He's always had them in silver, bronze, and copper counted

down to the last bit and bob saving his platinum reserve,

He just once wants to be told they're worth something to others

instead of being priceless to himself so he shines those thoughts

and critically thinks up a brain storming manifesto

but all is lost in good time and bad tempers,

I watch him walk through blackness

with a veil and candle lit for two,

I peer through black alleys as he says a prayer

for the rats in the sewer that now come to follow him

and drink the slowly streaming river of salted sadness exuding from underneath,

His thoughts now rot into the cracks of the streets as he's beat down

by the strong arm of realism and the dealings of mediocrity,

What a wonderous thing hope can be to achieve when our dreams

fail to become anything besides a grease spot in a fast food parlor

begging to be stepped on by young teens who will always get your order wrong,

The man is no more human and no less beast

in the age of undying skin and false rejuvination,

Everyone is trying not to die or to age or to live life or to care,

We're all wishing on some superstar red giant way out in the distance

to save us from our earthly calamity but we're too late,

He was too late

and now the world is darker for it

only if you believe it is