Matthew Holloway Poems

The will of the pen
The pulse of the ink
Compels me, drives me
To write in verse
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For all those days to come
The highs and the lows
Each glory and tragedy
I embrace for what it is
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And to beauty
I weep like a child
In and at a loss
For I cannot explain it
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Let us drink and forget
The day, this day
For it is only a collection
of hours and minutes
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A stock market assassination
Brings down another government
The profit margins of conglomerates
Stained with the blood of the innocents
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A tomorrow shall come
When none of us remain
The burials and funeral pyres
Long since forgotten
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Affordable living
Population growth
Housing market crisis
Found in the sales blurb
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The carrot or the stick
They beat you with both
The clowns painted smile
Hides a web of lies
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Before the dying light
Gives way to evening
That eternal darkness
Claiming all about it
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I dreamt of death again
As before in movie scenes
A glorious ending
Beautiful in its own climax
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