Wednesday, March 4, 2015

A Nine-To-Five Hoax















A deep breath in strain. By brick vest contained,
The worn voices weep. An unspoken grief.
Marred yet glowing, beauty is unmaimed.
Vocation revocation. Heartless thief.

Toil and grind too much time, bones bare and aged.
Joints creak as pressure applies. The soul dies.
What else to do when a muse is so caged?
The heart wants what it wants and tells no lies.

The siren’s song is a steady tune. Yet—
What intent belies that smile? Sneaking singe.
Beauty begins in the mind and once set,
A mind wilts without ambition to binge.

Follow a dream, give no excuse to pause.
I fail to contemplate a more just cause.


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