Commodity

 

Happiness paid for,

we buy, we store,

we collect. Nothing more.

Piles of junk in hidden rooms,

like thoughts drifting through memorial tombs.

 

Want to spend the day?

There is a place

you can squander a life away.

Keep walking the aisles,

offering no resistance,

find nothing but empty existence.

 

Keep going through the motions.

A mysterious theme park of commodity,

to enforce the notion,

that goods make us happy

and empty pockets will make you delirious.

 

Whatever you want at bargain prices.

A new life, check aisle five.

A rose-coloured outlook,

consume the self-help books,

stacked ceiling high

on shelves of lies.

 

Whilst we are here

could I interest you

in something bland and tasteless?

Then try the restaurant of dead dreams

and misplaced trust.

It's just behind aisle three,

the one marked

pain, hurt and misery.

 

 

 

Thanks for reading

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Peace, Love and Poetry 

 

Kyle