By Peter Christopher Raymond
Copyright 2013
Why have my walls been defaced
By strangers who invade my space
Who tear the bindings of my books
Inspecting my drawers and hidden nooks
Their fingers linger in my jacket pockets
And pry open my priceless antique locket
Who seize upon and pawn my porcelain dishes
No sense of their worth or regard for my wishes
How mercilessly you measure their merit
And take what was never yours to inherit
You mock my mahogany chess set
Then hock it on the internet
Despite my grand reward I refuse to be consoled
The yield of my toil- my hard-won spoils
Sculptures and oils neglected and soiled
And though my blood boils I have no control
Those to whom I chose to bestow my blessings
Mere fools to those who are rudely suppressing
While I have labored they have lusted
Callously cunning and not to be trusted
Pilfered from children and those in the womb
Doomed and soon to be consumed
Burned away without trace- erased
By those with no discernible taste
god... you're just
god... you're just fantastic... honestly your writing is unparalleled.... your work is genuinely remarkable.... the fluidity of each poem... the unique structure... the mere thoughts and keen perception.... the way you just draw the reader's attention in.... it's all intoxicating.... and invigorating.... I'm just totally a huge fan ^_^
Thank you very very much!
Thank you very very much! It's been a few months since I've written a new poem because I fuss so much over every detail. Thank you so much for the kind words. :)