Rectangles And Squares Fill My Walls. Poem by robert down

Friday nights of endless Waits,
Deacon sine waves and vocal plates.
Saturday mornings piano jazz,
No time for contemporary fads...
Endless laughing of eternal joy,
For this day is not to destroy.
Then comes wednesday and all it's hate,
But saved by thursdays; time to create.

Clapping, smiling from their safe squares
Or is it ironic that you face away from your cares,
And thats not straight, 'you've got curls in your hair'.
You with your freedom, did you deserve?
Maybe not, but then life's not that fair.

From my love do I begin to hate you?
Or just are predicament, after I knew.
Never can I hope to be without the pain.
Even when mutual, but thats just the shame.

Rectangles and squares fill my walls.
They are already perceived and altered by the very pallet that they are individually cast upon.
Pre-decided and determined for me to make my mark!