The yard sale was great.
Sold everything in my place.
Now to start over new.
Influencers tell me what to do.
Have a need for food, shelter, and clothes.
They say that's not the way to go.
Buy products online,
Thats cheap and refined.
Use a credit card,
Get whatever you want.
Paying the bill is just an affront,
Go to thrift stores for a better jump.
What you want and need,
May be different indeed.
I can't fry my eye lashes to eat,
Hair products can't keep me warm.
Tattoos won't make a room for you.
No place to keep all my stuff that was cheap,
Live in a car with no place to sleep!
Walking to the film in tandem,
sold it out for opening night.
Fanboys and girls define fandom
walking to the film in tandem.
That iconic phrase 'Rebel Scum'
meant to be under marquee light.
Walking to the film in tandem,
sold it out for opening night.
Bethlehem was sold out except for the stable.
Christmas story, the snowy swaddle of a babe.
His prophetic lineage, as old as Father Abe.
Healing, forgiveness of sins - wholly capable.
Star light, star bright, the brightest illumination
of all the stars, the sun, the moon and angels.
Hear trumpets blow and choir of Christmas bells.
At the brink of breakthrough, presenting salvation.
Father God looked on as his son, the earth received.
The devil was aware and went into murder mode,
was afraid to be stepped on, for his head to explode.
The roundup of shepherds and wise men believed.
Star light, star bright, the brightest illumination
of all the stars, the sun, the moon and angels.
Hear trumpets blow and choir of Christmas bells.
At the brink of breakthrough, presenting salvation.
11/28/2021
ABBA Quatrain
Sponsor Caren Krutsinger
November or December Quatrain Poem
Since I saw you,
I've had this hope live in me.
That everything that isn't needed be gone.
The details of sales papers, shopping carts.
The ease of temptation.
Standing still.
To fill my cart full of things I don't need.
Coffee rings, free samples.
The debris of reality.
Strings and paper slings around baked goods.
Shopping around facedown.
Pushing the cart row after row.
The things on sale.
The pings of the register.
Splints that aren't necessarily the object we've come face to face with.
Jamaican rum.
Our fingerprints used in vain
The residue from coffee pots and things we've touched.
Bottled, sealed tight.
Fresh water springs.
Still we pursue.
I pursue.
Your carefree sensibility.
I've walked every row in search.
Where have you gone,
Withdrawn
Sold Out
Wasting and investing, the time limited, we conversed.
We exchanged them like goods in the fair,
You brought few, emotions I had reserved.
The left out sold out, you delayed, in despair.
Appeasing and teasing, the approaching heart, we smiled.
We displayed them like the care for a purchased device,
I remember the ones, I found ingenuously compiled.
The left out sold out, when unnoticed, to disguise.
Discussing and thinking, from the thoughtful mind, we dreamt.
We colored them like the canvas before a kid,
I remember, the ones those evolved, need attempt.
The left out sold out, without hope, in to the pit.
Convincing and conflicting, the transparent identity, we walked.
The hidden we saw like the autumn droplets scattered,
Few those matched, in aspiration pot, we collected.
The left out sold out, like the vapors, disappeared.
~Ashok Kumar Mishra
Bid on My Love – Sold Out
My heart is now on a wanted poster
having escaped twisted passions toaster
Now, in reflection, I’m forced to confess
each moment together – painfully priceless.
12/8/2015
submitted to – Bid on My Love – Poetry contest
sponsor – Tammy Reams
Sat at home on the couch
Sit's a man cynical burnt out
Pondering this question?
Which do I have more chance of achieving?
Turning a life around all by myself
Or winning the lottery
With odd's of 14 million to 1
I stand a 50 / 50 chance
Because I know I can buy a ticket for the lottery
Where as my life has already been sold out
Sold Out
The blogger screams
And I trembling
Naked before the fogless eyes
Dangled like butcher's meat
Stand on the auction block again, the mist of profits screening pain.
Against the gavel rising and falling
Leading bidders for my flesh speak superficial of my loveliness
Orishas mangled in the history of my undoing
Native faith betrayed by a foreign cross
Emigrants hustled in the market of pain.
Tomorrow we all shall reap the howl of coming misery
Ontology broken as a vase on a strand of prophecy
Debacling us in loneliness, nothing left to sell
Itinerants of the global disaster
Earn nothing from the learning of the dying market.
Sold out: is the "it is done" of the cross
Infinite wonder: profit and futures falling
Nature nailing the arthrithic hands
Gladly to the gallows of our grief
I have known nothing built on innocent blood stands
Neutral before the rope of justice
God dangles from his branchless throne.