Vocabulary

Much of what I write

is furniture in a room.

One would assume, given its roots,

a bed in the kitchen would be odd.

Almost as odd as seeing suns in the moon-lit sky,

Although I would presume,

not as odd as a number.

 

If people made beds for sleep

And chairs to sit,

and everything that comes consecutively

for its basic function,

I wonder what colour you and me would be?

Grey is fair I suppose,

Not intimate, but fair.

And for all intents and purposes,

I could agree that black and white once, were.

But how would you convince me if I said, chicken came first and not the egg?

 

And yes, black and white bedrooms are still preferred by some.

Personally I like Mahogany.

And I would say as long as these exist in their own forms,

It would be easier for you to be you and me to be me.

Diamonds are beautiful and rare,

but they seem to be overtly lacking the argument

for why the rock under my feet should be ugly.

If it would ever so happen, that the poet's vocabulary suddenly becomes vernacular, could I still call him a poet?

I would prefer to rephrase the rhetoric to "how many poets would remain?", but I shouldn't.

That would hurt feelings. Hahaha.

 

To be honest, much of what I write is furniture in a personalized room.

And we do see a million stars in the night sky, suns of a myriad worlds.

And half of the numbers are very factually and paradoxically, odd.