The residues of gunfire
Linger behind every word spoken
The shallow speak loudest
while flagbearers for the true remain silent
The wretched scramble for crumbs
Devour each other blindly
Blinded by the minute, the shallow, the worthless
Imperfect Poetry from an Imperfect Poet on a quest for the Perfect Poem.
And I replied
Everything comes at a price
A pound of flesh, a bank guaranteed cheque, a money transfer or good old fashioned cash are what's needed to get by
Could someone tell me the price of a friendly smile, a reassuring touch on the arm?
How much does love cost, in its pure, unconditional form?
And the feeling you get dancing in the rain on a hot summer's day?
What do words cost?
Nothing is free
Is that the way life has come to be?
Throw off the shackles
Drink from the well of freedom
Live off the land of your fathers
But don't forget to pay rent
Live with hope
But always remember to drive on the right side of the road