Saturday, October 17, 2020

Poetry In The Dark...

Poetry In The Dark...

I may never win a Nobel prize,
Yet I write.

In the moments just before sleep,
The clock being shaved,
The morning with it's green paper chains,
Art is a "quaint notion","
Here is this goal-oriented gilded cage,
Yet I write.

Torn between technology and artistry,
One fuels my intellect and wallet,
Yet poetry keeps the soul alive,
Like rice and ramen in a famine,
Perhaps some days red beans and rice,
I write.

The Ferenghi would fear our engines of profit,
The warp in our drive,
This haven of capital,
Bastion of corporate motivation,
The place that craves every click,
Yet I write.

With love,
I bid we automatons,
Good night.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 10/16/2020