Confessions of a closeted capitalist (poem)

Confession:
I live in a state of duress
brought on by stress with what I possess
my books, my camera gear
they’re near and dear, but
I fixate and salivate
save and spend, invest and buy
worldly possessions…just to get by (?)
I don’t need this surrealism brought on by my capitalism
but still I take out my cash, my credit card
do I think much about it? well I don’t think hard
that the material I purchase might be real
but living for myself is rather surreal
this thing called money has made me a phony
I talk a good game but I know it’s baloney
I give my time, my strength and health
but I hardly give any of my wealth
I give away parts of me that has no expenditure
living a life that’s equal parts risk and adventure
but I’m cold and calculating, searching and seeking
for temporary fixes that always are fleeting
and with everything I call my stuff, call me out & call my bluff
To which I wonder does it really matter? When is it enough?

[n][v]

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s