Poetry @ languidnights

My drive demands

that I write great and mighty

and weighty things

full of mythos and reference

and high symbolism

but my reality

says sometimes

I must write simple

Come, see our Church

See the golden trim around

the feet of our pauper god.

See the velvet and fur woven

in the vestments of our clergy.

Hear the peel of the bell

summoning the faithful

to our opulence.

Inhale the incense, an aroma

fit for a king.

Is it …

the sky is dark

and the world quiet

surely its too late

to shop or be out

except

except it's after time change

and not only is it not late

it's downright early evening

my building's like my rhyme

slant

it's meant to be askew

not meant to be

flat

so simple yet profound

time flies

but of course it does

it's that second half though

that does the heavy lifting

so do today what you may

to secure your legacy

remember

not only tempus fugit

but also

observe thoughts

rising from the id

as it heats

like so much wax

rising through the ego

cooling

and falling back

into the id

I have three tape measures

eight phillips-head drivers

two hammers

three boxes of screws

and two full ratchet sets

and yet

I can never find what I need

'a wall works'

at keeping the foreign

out

they say it is

a medieval mindset

walls and ditches

pikes and shots

yet it ignores

faith and community

common goods

and fair treatment

in your land

of visitors

to give up

on a dream

that i still know

i could achieve

simply because

i've proven

i won't achieve

freedom