"Shiny Dirt And Sweet Treats"

"Shiny Dirt And Sweet Treats"

Kick up some dust. 
Watch the particles disperse
Like nickels that are flushed
From a heavy coin purse
Of the generous mother
That raises sisters and brothers.
They share affection for confection;
Yet they fight among each other.

Soft, sticky sweets linger
On the little boy's fingers;
So they begin to lick the tips;
The same tips that trace lips
And dance around the hips
Of young girls that tease and strip.
They initially feel empowered;
But are bound to lose their grip.
The fruit they yield has gone sour;
So they are given wine to sip;
Ensuring that they will slip
As they are taken on a trip.

Soft fingertips
riddled with acrylics,
Chemicals and cosmetics
About as real as aesthetics.
About as fake as a peg leg
Until breached like a cracked egg;
Broken and brittle,
Feeble and fickle.
Less appealing when bruised.
Not very effective when used.
Laying ruin to their simplicity
Replacing it with a ruse.

Authenticity is not a liability.
It will not impede progress.
It does not alter the process.
It will not honor the claims
Of those who choose to digress
Out of fear of being tamed.
Those who deem the world lame
Forget that nothing remains the same.
Life will be their favorite game.
The fast lane is worth cruising;
But when little is left of fame,
Was the winning worth the losing?

If they're any good at choosing,
They can pick through my rhetorical,
Key in on that which is focal
And hopefully avoid the historical.
Repetition is not redefinition.
One can deliberately tear it apart;
But that will never make it art.
Every ending has a start.
Those hips don't move
The way that they used to.
Her peers fled with the years.
His fan base finally outgrew too.
She used to dance in the dark.
She shakes and shivers in sunlight.
The wine is still delicious;
But the liver is dead to rights.
The bottle is bare and dry;
So he begs on behalf of his family;
But no coin purse is observed.
Mom can't give him any candy.
No nickels meet his fingers.
No pennies rubbed together.
Only a few memories linger.
The rest is lost with forever.

I went for a walk this evening.
The wind raced past my face.
Lifeless fragments danced in rhythm
As if they were happily misplaced.
Something glimmered on the ground.
As i kicked away the dust,
I examined what I've found:
A new coin was starting to rust.
I gave it to a little kid.
He was trying to buy some candy.
He just placed it in his pocket.
He said it would come in handy.
Maybe a child can teach the world.
He is focused on transition.
His mission is driven by ambition.
This aspiration is his definition.

Making haste with your decisions
may lead to adverse conditions.
Patience grants you the permission
To separate growth from decomposition.
Life is full of fawn and lust.
Every trial will test your trust.
Take heed before you dash and thrust
Or you'll be lost among the dust.

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz