Money

A small stream is caught by the frost and this locks everything up
and everything kind of dies right at that point

spending money is pointless

fatigue is stray in the columns of spreadsheets
accountants are shooting out their teeth
one by one they fall like flies each Friday
favour falls like the leaves burnt by the first suggestion
the sun may fail they glow red to keep warm
during the end of the begining, there remains a sense
like the smoke of battle fresh to the nostril
the fallen still risking all for the final moments of
glory in the eyes of those who matter

Spending money is so necessary
you buy things on the way home from the office
credit is tight but so are the shop keepers
there are queues for the newspapers
there are gardens that get sold by the feature
not by the measure of the garter on a feather
or a gown of hard cash treasure all swelling
like a bubble of inflation
pop it and its trouble
a conflagration

leave it to grow on its own
and soon it alters the landscape
like the oven alters the cake

kept by itself it evaporates.




May 16 11:57pm