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George Vaisey Poem
Let’s talk numbers
I talk one language, need no more. This world
Needs but one thing. A number line
Digressing time,
And all the things within.
Poetic sigh as freedom cries. Creative
arts are dead.
Financially, ecstatically
You celebrate this win.
Stats, figures, percentages loom around
This anxious corner, people yearning for rises.
Forgetting economic crisis.
An international gesture, favours well.
A frown turned upside down, by one small alteration
To the standard wage…..pathetic nation.
Religiously this all bodes well. No fiddly
Bits, no hidden-meaning.
One simple scaffold, tells it well.
What you’ve done, and where you’ve been
All deciphered by one thing,
The coefficient of your sin.
A tiresome idol now replaced. A Greek man, Pythag
Takes it’s space.
Life experience, calculated
By the gradient of your absolution,
Utter focus on the prize,
Which lies....ahead of children.
Past the love. Beyond the gates
And all above.
Further then until you find,
A formulae for all things prime,
Careful you don’t lose your mind. A frequent occurrence
To all man-kind.
So lets be hasty to our graves. Cut
Out the tongues which set the bar,
The right of speech, and who we are.
I insist. Take out these complicated brackets,
Multiply them by our crimes, and then divide
By nurtured time. Calculate the lengthy angle,
Simplify that and untangle,
All the extra nonsense.
Let’s talk numbers.
Copyright © George Vaisey | Year Posted 2007
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George Vaisey Poem
ARROGANCE
Arrogant you say.
With peering eyes, and cautious lies.
Arrogant I said. Repeatedly, a montage of hazy
flashbacks, connections spread, a web of thoughts.
I ask you now, is it arrogant to have a gift,
and strive to keep it present?
Face stoic, you say nothing….I figured.
Or is it arrogant to have a gift, and tarnish it, bleed it dry of all
its use, suck the life from its very lips…
Oh, the naivety of that kiss.
You see yourself with great ambition,
a writer, singer, actor even.
But no, it never happens.
A cornerstone trampled by your own temptations,
the rules you broke,
the crap you spoke.
Well in pure arrogance, you reply,
“ I’m free at least, I lead my own life”,
I laugh. I walk away.
I need not reply, the satisfaction of this lie
keeps me contempt enough.
The simple paradox, hypocrisy, foolishness
to be free yet restricted, by this blatant
cliché.
Obviously not your day.
Go back to your home, sit there, think
ten years time and have you changed?
Are you still free?
And is there choice?
Far away. I rejoice. The gratitude of my determination.
I look back with pity, one small talk
I chose to walk, the opposite direction.
Copyright © George Vaisey | Year Posted 2007
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