Lost in the cost

It’s not clear who is who in this world.
We can change to be good as new or broken as ever with a word.
The Internet never heard of you and the birds can’t pronounce your name.
We sway the wind to the same degree as a fading fall leaf.
Whether it’s rice for the fifth time this week or Nutella on ice cream,
Fret not, you are marvelous creature who is speckled with disease like the rest of us.
Most likely, your cure is to walk through the streets as though you received two dinner invitations.
Don’t let yourself drift down the dirty canal.
Surely some hungry fisherman will be sorry to feast on your unaccomplished bones.
He’ll tell his family you were raised on an open field, with all the sunshine your brittle skin could handle.
He’ll paint a scene of giggles and grapes, where you had all the choices and all the answers.
Where the music from you parents’ stereo taught you something of beauty.
Where laughter flowed through you like plasma and certainty.
And the munching family will be at peace realizing their nourishment.
By: Sarah C Louise

Sticky are the gallows

Sticky are the Gallows
Built with nails and hatred
Slicing a spirit from corporeal bag
With rope and gravity
Deserving, spiteful, The airy tomb of a bent-up weapon
Proof enough for cowering farmers and framers
A simple lever, The mechanism is smooth
The flap in the elevated floor: The gateway to a proverbial hell
But how can there be satisfaction
When there is cleaning to be done
And the tight rope stretches stiffly in an echoing space
The paycheck is still due to the celebrated executioner, servant of justice, salvation of blame
And who can see the dangling frame of the once passionate killer
And applaud its stillness, applaud their godly government
Sticky are the gallows with the reverberating question:
Are you satisfied?
By Sarah c Louise