This is not a house ...

image from Ella

This is not a house ...

This is not a house, this is a fantasy cardboard cut-out:

Look at all those windows, the shutters, the porch,

all those rooms, the grand ideas.

Home to paper dolls (with extensive wardrobes):

flammable, flimsy and fleeting.

Spiders sneak around spinning their spider business,

flakes of paint drift down, eaves leak,

wood shivers and sags.

All those rooms, filled with piles of paper people ...

This is not a house, this is a chimera

Thanks to Poets United for the prompt.  More of the village can be found here.

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Inanimate Politician

Can you see I’m smiling:  this is my trustful gaze?

Can you see I’m telling the truth:  I never flinch from honesty?

Can you see me pucker up at the gooey babe?

Can you see I’m working for you, this is my charity day?

Can you see me pocket this cheque?  Look over there at the bad guys.  (Didn’t see it did you?)

Can you see me flirting and screwing: this is my human side?

Can you see me voting for business this is my personal choice?

Can you see me shaking hands with criminals, this is my job?

Can I see you vote:  1 for me?

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WHAT THEY SAID --- What I thought

Ready to move again if needed                 that’s me

Part of a revamp                                          that would be her

Growth                                                         do I believe this? 

Pursue                                                           we all want hope, love

Rescue package                                           a parachute, a submarine

Plans to raise                                              a laugh, a smile

Leader to go                                                 with dinner on the side

Social taboo hampers treatment of ED                        (guess why?)

Strike kills                                                  everything, kills hope

Spending offers huge opportunities        more debt, again

Errors still common                                 errors still common

The prompt from Poets United was 'headlines'.

Uniform

the denial of difference

never worn one

never could 

in a shroud

we are

uniform

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