“A man’s riches consist not in the extent of his possessions
but in the fewness of his wants.”
If this is so, then I am truly the poorest soul alive.
By the pungent allure of crisp, green notes
I am feverishly ensconced;
where blackening bubbles loom luxuriously, maleficent and contrived.
With my eyes I can see perfectly,
and yet I am so blind.
Searching deep within my heart for love, and yet nothing is all I find.
JP Collins
Paraphrasing J Brotherton
Traffic cones litter the side of the street,
in a place where sand a shovels did meet.
At length they stand withering, their presence unheeded,
as redundant as the workers that once were needed.
They plead to the shrinking penny in my pocket,
so I pull at the lining, to find only remnants of my wallet.
A rude awakening to what is becoming obsession,
as we open our eyes to greet the ghost of recession.
JP Collins
by Lize Bard
Floating thoughts, A place where my beautifully weird thoughts floating around in my mind are posted.
Poem, poetry, humanitarian, racism
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drifting
depressive meanderings
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