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Master (Cartography of the Mind)
You – big master
Black suit
Black mood
Black tie
Black everything
But the money
That you wield
I – convivial, vibrant bourgeoisie
Bright eyes
Big smile
No black
White, white – pure white
Ring-a-ding – mulla – ching
Hold that bucket, sir - I’m drooling?
Doesn’t work that way
My disillusioned Pavlovian king
Rather, maybe that’s the way it
Used to work
Now I’m objecting for
Checkerboards are not what
I call fascinating
Don’t you ever find, like me
That black, in its own way, is white
Bland and boring and
So damn annoying
The way a speck of white on black
Stands out – a dirty stain
Like black on white
What we need is a raging fire
Sufficient warmth to meld these colours
For even grey will do for starts
Maybe, in time, a few small sparks
Red and orange –
Much better
Don’t you think?
Come my dear
Now
Put those dollars away
Tell me,
What do you say
To giving the world
A fireworks display?
Essie, I have read all of your poems here and chose this one to make my comments on. You have a very interesting style and your work is filled with many answered questions. The questions that are left unanswered are great for the reader's exercise. I can tell that you have many years ahead of you that will produce many works with much depth. Keep the pen in hand for you master it well.