by Benjamin White.
The Golden Age
Is gilded greed,
So save your integrity
In a shoebox
Under your bed
Or in your top drawer
With your secret hopes,
Or buried
In te back yard
Where you mind
And memories
Intersect and meet
To redirect the heat you feel
When you peel the sunshine
From the sky
Until it is gone,
And you don’t know why
It was replaced
By emotions rising
With rain and pain
Caught in the press
With lies disguised
As an exit to paradise
Where sacrifice will be squeezed
Into poverty
Without pride,
Yet justified by the gaps
Widening between
The unseen materialization
Of someone else’s dream
Not hearing
Your hollow scream
Echoing the expense
Spent on monthly payments
Shivering in the lost years
Tears could not rescue
Regardless of
How much
Daylight you tried
To save…