material self worth is realitive.
we are independently wealthy,
if only for tonight.

i bought my butler for a dollar.
her uniform was a gucci knockoff.
i would have raised her ten but
she had already been bent
across the coffee table.

in spite, i would whisper lullabies
to the hopeless, the damned.
to them, i say,
"learn your self worth.
even amongst the demands
of ancestors and rotting bones.
there are worse things then
death and poetry.

"measure up the silver lining,
sell Joseph and his dreams.
fear not the ghouls that come to
pillage your youth and virgin qualities."

in my first life, i learned the sacrament.
as a prophet, i wandered in solitude.
friends have no place upon roads less traveled.

but i, with dusty sandals and bleeding feet,
wandered these valleys and corridors.
and i say to you, the loveless,
the crucified, have hope.

(for the lilies, not mausoleums,
are the guardians
of the shadow lands.)

06/23/2004

Author's Note: sadly, this is as good as it gets, folks. mad thanks to maris for tormenting me until i actually turned something out.

oh, yeah, and rita is *so* to blame. *SMOOCH*

Posted on 06/24/2004
Copyright © 2024 Rachelle Howe