Thorns Have Roses
Bluelight Crew
- Joined
- Sep 2, 2010
- Messages
- 5,726
Picking up a half-smoked cigarette off the ground,
I walked into town square taking a look around.
The usual eco-friendly recycling bins
and fountain stained purple with cleaning toxins
are joined by an impressive new entry,
a tower of fir and tinsel, of hope and hypocricy.
My spirits were lifted at first
by shining bobbles and poinsettia sunburst,
but smile decayed to a stale-menthol sigh
when inspection revealed this flora a lie.
Sham generosity from some city-hall niggard
who couldn't condescend to swipe his bankcard―
why buy a real tree and a few potted plants?
Polyester and plastic satisfy religious dilettantes.
Walmart iconagraphy befits two-faced suburbia
where hearts worship mammon, lips pray Ave Maria.
Love for God's earth, every woman and man,
are bywords for pretension, and tepid beer in a can.
Yet when I returned freezing and broke
in drunken haze and blue cloud of smoke,
I was comforted by that Christ-mocking tree-
there in its emptiness was a reflection of me.
(So, I occasionally write haiku over in PD social when the mood takes me, but I wanted to try something less terse, and to force myself to write something. This was the result.)
I walked into town square taking a look around.
The usual eco-friendly recycling bins
and fountain stained purple with cleaning toxins
are joined by an impressive new entry,
a tower of fir and tinsel, of hope and hypocricy.
My spirits were lifted at first
by shining bobbles and poinsettia sunburst,
but smile decayed to a stale-menthol sigh
when inspection revealed this flora a lie.
Sham generosity from some city-hall niggard
who couldn't condescend to swipe his bankcard―
why buy a real tree and a few potted plants?
Polyester and plastic satisfy religious dilettantes.
Walmart iconagraphy befits two-faced suburbia
where hearts worship mammon, lips pray Ave Maria.
Love for God's earth, every woman and man,
are bywords for pretension, and tepid beer in a can.
Yet when I returned freezing and broke
in drunken haze and blue cloud of smoke,
I was comforted by that Christ-mocking tree-
there in its emptiness was a reflection of me.
(So, I occasionally write haiku over in PD social when the mood takes me, but I wanted to try something less terse, and to force myself to write something. This was the result.)
