“Carry On”
Specks trickle against dirty glass, creating an impossible mirror.
The film swirls into what could be a gorgeous mosaic.
There’s no answer for the other side mystery.
Maybe today it is no longer the same.
A brush strokes a canvas leaving no beauty for a naked eye.
Paintings require color now if you don’t see your own.
They’ll never know what the easel knows.
Never they’ll care lest they’re told so.
No one remembers the scent of a black orchid, yet they’re incessant of roses.
If enough letters come together can they find the word with meaning?
Turn around, the sentiment you cannot hear is deafening.
Might catch a stain you can’t lose.
Do not hide for they cannot find.
You’d think with so much rapping it’d be a campaign lost.
Noise for noise’s sake for a show with no meaning.
Such a lovely waste.
There was a library that yearned, just once more, for the crack of any of its pages.
It was built to educate and longs to share its gifts.
It’s remained hollow so long it may itself be a dream.
But it remembers when it wasn’t.
Buy and sell and sell and buy–there remain widgets unpurchased.
Perhaps their ads have not yet reached you. Just wait.
Poetry is nothing in the face of a dollar.
Shelves need filling so more shelves can be sold.
Do not look up, for you may find worlds above.
Do not dwell within, for you may not be deep enough to fit.
Do not dream, for you may begin to wonder.
Do not believe, for you may realize just where it is you are.
You’ve taken these words, held the litany.
And as quickly they flow away, leaving no great mark.
For all the effort ever mustered, they’re weightless except for when they’re not.
No different from you or I.