I thought on it

I thought on it

Alone on the sofa

Gazing out across the room

Through the window

Into the distance

Past the cherry tree

How long ago it was planted

So many dreams we all have had since then

I thought on them

None were worth a fig

Or a freshly picked punnet of recollection

As an assessment

Of their accumulated value

When I struggle with how to write them down

As if the difficulty of the task matters

Squeezing out a few words

Some of which may find themselves

Next to one another

Forming an ornamental string

With a tenuous link to meaning,

What is the point of this

When so many real people

Work the land in silence

Dig the earth with unsharpened tools

Scrub stone steps with swollen hands

Fingers broke to the bone

Bloodied wet with sweat

Even as the winds blow raw

Calluses are grown on top of old ones

With little time to spend on frippery

Wise words are worth more than diamonds

Once we were all slaves

Some people still are

As much as we would like to think otherwise

Traded like cattle herded into pens

Sold to the highest bidder

Faceless interactions, online transactions

People making money out of suffering

The bartered, the slaughtered, the charred

Innocent children with flies around their eyes

The little bundles wrapped in rags

Carried, half-drowned from a listing boat,

All have powerful voices

But the world is barely listening

Even to the loudest

Dead bodies lie on the street

As privilege weaves around them

On electric scooters

Skateboards are so last year,

Little really changes

With the passing of ideas

From one line to the next

The words are always written in hindsight

With a sprinkling of old truths

To leave a mark

The message bolstered

With a slew of ill-considered metaphors

Neo-classical reference points

Humorous asides

And a post-modern lack of proper punctuation.

Halleluja.