a word of wisdom isn't needed by the wise,
they work for knowledge instead of clear blue skies,
they hold out for the willing, scholarly pride,
and recruit or pillage what captures their eyes.
a wall of keeping, not protection, endures,
whetting their palate with bricks, mortar, pores,
they'll make into mine what you thought was yours,
and all you'll end up with are tightly locked doors.
a wish for the watching, you'll never get close
to the world that they're making from your skin and bones;
you can hope but it's hopeless to see what it shows,
soon inevitably you'll be left alone.
a wing sprouts from your backside when you lay to dream,
a thought of freedom from bondage that seems
to be love, to be nothing but peace;
lies knee-deep like latrine feces.
a warning to you, is all that I can offer,
money drains like blood from your happy coffers,
you'll never get back what you paid to the proffer;
they don't feel the pain that they know you suffer.
This poem is used in the MindGames project on DreamCollectivelier