Posted in Death

Fraud

Posted on by tq1695

The classroom has another life at night.
Fire and dreams
hope, a clandestinely ignored lover by day
takes an unselfconscious seat.

Writing as with cooking
everybody thinks they can
know they have a magical creation within.

Feeding the need
stroking malignant ego
addicting the habit
taking the money
it’s what she does.

A writer teaching writing
who doesn’t any more
praising work that should be binned
soothing re-enrolment into the next class
bringing in the fees
a smile to the accountants
and another contract.

Complacent and torpid
It’s easy money
promising dreams
long after her own have died.

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Author:

Most of my life has been spent on the bench, occasionally called into the game by extravagance or attenuation. Waiting has turned a loner into a recorder - nondescript and inconsequential, more not noticed than overlooked - the non-vantage point of children not yet considered old enough to understand. Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry is a lifetime of picking anecdotes up and not throwing them away. Stories collected like odds and ends placed in a box in the basement, the garage, the garden shed - uncertain as to what their use might be but knowing that one day there might be one.