Ruminations from Midnight I

Isn’t it a lapse of mankind or simply by reason,

To embrace empty indulgence?

The toil of the many and the impoverished

bleed to fashion artifacts, that serve superfluously at best.

Addicts stuck in their own artificial places

Catching coins, where no human face is.

Worry, abated by the languid fingertip,

Supplemented by the bitter bottle,

While fickle men in high places don’t pay heed.

Like they would need,

They stoop over like Olympians,

Sipping wine like pampered pigs on caviar,

Watching the mortals aid Sisyphus on his never ending quest,

A place where you can’t get no rest.

But it helps having their colluding cronies near,

For what could prevail the ones that have nothing to fear.





Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s