PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The river burns
to be like the desert
for a day.
The desert dreams
of rain.
The common man
longs to be uncommon,
but ridicules
unusual ways.

The crown is mundane
because it's "always been
that way".
People, it seems,
don't like change.
Pennies are going
out of style,
either way.

Hello, paradox,
foe friend.

So let the rivers dry
and the deserts drown.
The Sahara Forest might come back.
The Amazon Desert?
Well, hopefully, that's what we'll call

Jeff Bezos bank account,
someday, somehow.

The good lady say's temperature's rising,
i've no reason to sweat it.
I say, perhaps, let's let it happen.
All that wealth under water
is all that lords fear.
So melt down the crown,
and in my dreams...

The kings are handed shovels -
diamond-pointed blades -
and the emperor has no clothes,
diamond's stripped off.
A chain gang forms.
They're patching holes in mountains
putting the jewels back
into the ground

- all of which they stole.

And, in the distance,
a few of us curious minds
roam.
Picking fruit
from hilly Giza woodlands,
back to the gypsies that we were.
Sitting,
savoring their rich flavors,
while fishing at Wadi al Hitan.
Hearing,
as evening approaches,
calls of the freed spirits of ancient whales.

Today living,

someday dying,

as they did.

I hand the keys to something wiser than us -
something from which we've been created,
not to that which we've created -
when contemplating ebb and flow.