Prose - The Money Changers

My mind is full
But I have no voice
My pen drips
Onto parchment
But it carries no weight
My silence
Inflicted not by me
But by you
Because you will not listen
You will not hear
Instead you dig
Your own grave
To bury your soul
I watch
Bemused
As you so easily
Give your mind away
While shouting
Your glory
Unable to hear
A thousand poets
Screaming as one
The world you conquer
Worships you
Even as they are vanquished
Because all they know
Is your path
And the victor
Is their pride
In a life
So inspired
By all wrong
Willing to die
For riches
Than live
For honor
Willing to desecrate
Beauty
Knowing
They are unworthy
Instead
To honor themselves
Even as they walk
To the gates of hell
They destroy
All that is good
Before it can be born
Covering their dead souls
With each disemboweled letter
Ripped from the message
Of those who know
Of life
Gathered anonymously
In the corners of their own mind

All Rights Reserved. Copyright 2011. The Suburban Poet

(PRINTED)

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