Depreciating assets. (April 2017)
I promise I'll never give you anything
as cliché as diamonds.
Only as rare as the cartels need them to be,
manufactured demand so high that the
Tiffany Yellows, Cullinans, Blue Hearts,
Pink Stars, and Black Orlovs,
are truly only shades of Greed Green,
like American Money.
No matter the color, they are tiny,
sparkling artifacts of so much spilled red;
the collected bits of splattered drainage
from a Free Market bound, gagged,
And beaten out of shape,
crystallized into rainbow reminders of blood shed.
Diamonds’ fire and sparkle are hollow,
like Space Mountain,
and its crusty holey black felt
draped over orange incandescent light bulbs,
Their dull glow slowly, lazily seeping through,
as poor mens’ stars are wont to do;
A random dull orange firmament
signifying no fate and
haunting a big black empty nothing.
Diamonds are not my forever, no-
mine is bioluminescent, feverish light
from a heart beating, sparking against ribs.
No princess cut bullshit, no-
my Love is Alexandrite:
dynamic; changing with perspective;
a hot flashing candle flicker in the night;
My love smoulders for a century, cost-free.
My love is patched and frayed at its seams,
given up after savage misuse,
but rescued from the garbage pile
to shower you with lilies
and ungentle truth- not sweet lies.
I'll give you living orchids
(because you are so alive),
but never diamonds or heaps of roses, no-
I abhor the sharp edges and ugly lines,
and roses stink like bitter old ladies,
funerals, and insincere Valentines.
@ellowrites @elloart @elloblog @ello @ellodesign @ellopoetry @apoem_4u
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