a scan and a beep,
makes suits leap,
business wanna boom,
spreading toxic gloom;
wash your hands,
avoid the tomb.
Dollars go, “ka ching!”
“ka ching!” Walking
in your bling
ring
ring
ring-
Wash ya
face.
Category: Poetry – Read
A man dreams
midnight, sheltering
sultry bedfellows
bedazzling
beauties, sing,
“X to the 9,
leave it all
behind, sail
as one, to
the none,”
I stop and think,
of days in the drink-
of mirrored brews,
these tears of old,
shed and trodden
through-
Days in the black,
feel so very
red- each wasted
moment, arterial
fed. Toss, and
turn,
midnight exegesis;
a man
dreams, midnight…
Four-Calendar Café 