This was April's Ditalini Press assignment:
Take an object, place, or emotion and give it human characteristics. Once again my muse, Susan whispered inspiration into my ear. And a big thanks to Rudy my techno-guy who also has a great rock collection.
Fools Gold
Like the craftsman gilds the edges of a fine frame, I too can guilt the edges of your world. In doing so, I cover the original portrait of your life with fools gold. Turning pleasure to pain, freedom to imprisonment, and life's ambitions to drudgery, by simply whispering the words, "should have, could have" into your ear. My whispers drowning out the beating of your heart which carries the rhythm of the songs you want to sing. There is no end to what I can do.
I can make you give up your life's ambitions by looking through the eyes of your child, stretching out my arms to you, and saying, "Please don't go."
I can drive you breathlessly, recklessly across an entire continent to weep at the grave of a parent who never really loved you.
I can hobble you in the middle of the dance by pointing out that your best friend is a wallflower.
When you soar, I can ensnare you in my web of lies, and bring you back down to earth to be fitted with guilted iron boots.
And when laughter escapes your lips, I can shame you with the knowledge that those around you are grieving.
Yes. I can do all these things, but only if you give me the power by choosing the fools gold I offer. I am guilt. Pass me by in search of life's finer treasures.
Take an object, place, or emotion and give it human characteristics. Once again my muse, Susan whispered inspiration into my ear. And a big thanks to Rudy my techno-guy who also has a great rock collection.
Fools Gold
Like the craftsman gilds the edges of a fine frame, I too can guilt the edges of your world. In doing so, I cover the original portrait of your life with fools gold. Turning pleasure to pain, freedom to imprisonment, and life's ambitions to drudgery, by simply whispering the words, "should have, could have" into your ear. My whispers drowning out the beating of your heart which carries the rhythm of the songs you want to sing. There is no end to what I can do.
I can make you give up your life's ambitions by looking through the eyes of your child, stretching out my arms to you, and saying, "Please don't go."
I can drive you breathlessly, recklessly across an entire continent to weep at the grave of a parent who never really loved you.
I can hobble you in the middle of the dance by pointing out that your best friend is a wallflower.
When you soar, I can ensnare you in my web of lies, and bring you back down to earth to be fitted with guilted iron boots.
And when laughter escapes your lips, I can shame you with the knowledge that those around you are grieving.
Yes. I can do all these things, but only if you give me the power by choosing the fools gold I offer. I am guilt. Pass me by in search of life's finer treasures.
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