A beautiful thing
Yes, a beautiful thing
Sits alone on a shelf
Wondering,
Pondering,
What is my true self
When I find
To my voice,
To my charms,
All are deaf
-Thomas Typewriter
Transgression is the obsession
The artist would say
that brings the words into play.
Yet they…
…knocked…
…kneaded…
…self-betrayed…
Question the sessions
Asking is there a different way
to discover the words to convey.
I observed you in the corner of my eye
thinking my attention had slipped you by.
You writing those thank you letters
so conceited, so renowned
to answered prayers profound.
Reminding you in simple sounds.
That all your efforts will turn to dust.
That you never had anyone’s trust.
That you are unequivocally a creature of disgust.
Before Success comes to stay
His three brothers clear the way.
Failure arrives first, claiming he only needs the smallest bed,
But will take two and then three instead.
Confusion arrives next with too much luggage for his claim of an overnight stay.
Excuse after excuse he generates, staying for days and days.
Disappointment arrives last with nothing to his name.
Seeing everything you have he will complain and complain.
They will bicker and argue with no delay,
Destroying your house and disrupting your ways.
But in the end they, as much as you, will grow tired
Claiming each other has an unbearable situation made.
They will leave not with a thank you said.
A broken home is their parting gift instead.
But it is a gift, their visit as much as their departure.
In home repairs you will be employed
Even the areas you would normally avoid.
So when Success finally does visits, he enters with words so kind
Thanking you for making your home such a comfortable find.
He continues saying If I may
Could I stay a few extra days?
Thomas Typewriter 
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