Home Truth

YOUR MASTERPIECE

I’d rather write a thousand words
And have you draw that one picture
On the canvas of your mind

You know that familiar scalloped shape
Tapering to a point
Colour it a crimson
Let the paint run

BINARY

We’re all measured in digits. Adjectival words no longer have any worth, we’ve been reduced to numbers, where a denomination determines your value.

People look at your pay cheque. Your bank balance. Your net worth. The dimensions of your flat. Your pin code. The size of your car. Its engine displacement, top speed, acceleration. The price tag. The size of your waist. Your butt. Biceps. TV. And phone. The number of servants. The number of girlfriends and your “score”. Your children’s marks. Their rank at school. Their IQ (but never your’s). How many MB that flashy gizmo of yours packs. The number of hits your site generates, the number of friends and followers. The karats in that ring. The air miles you clocked last year. The books that are part of your at-home library (“my God, you still read books?”), the number of pages in their on-display coffee table books (which they’ve never read).

And in their mind it all comes down to just two numbers. 1 and 0. So either you’re a numero uno, a 10/10. Or a big, fat zero.

I say: status can perhaps be counted, but can true class be quantified?

Reflections

I don’t quite like that guy.
That fellow standing in front of me.
Looking back at me. Looking just like me.

He stands tall, his heart is fair,
But I don’t like some of what I see.
His form’s not perfect.
It’s tarnished in places.

I can see his flaws up close.

PATHOS (RADHA’S LAMENT)

Swallows soaring in cerulean skies
Butterflies flitting hither thither
Glorious, invigorating summer sun

Christmases white with carpets of snow
The ensconsing warmth of the hearth
Snowflakes wafting slowly down

Majestic thunderstorms, multihued arcs