My Ocean of Stars (2023 - 2024) | Poetry

6.) the prolatariat (from the archive)

"If they are opaque then pry and prise it open, letting pretty purple or pink light through it. Then they will look pleasant and you, peaceful. But be placid and patient with them, such perks aren't priceless if you poorly treat them, they will no longer be pristine, but poison!"

"Enough warning me, hand me the quaint gems without your constant qualm which are like quakes to me. Quarrel not, just hand me said quantity? So I can take them and leave thee. Before we attract a queue and before you verbalise your queries. So, quibble not just be quiet please. Here, like quick quicksilver I shall snatch them and leave!"

"Wrong you are if you think you can run! Take only the red ones and be gone! Be gone! Take your rambunctious radiance away from my studious stand." I watched in surprise as the rebellious little rat thieved lime-coloured one's from me instead, the greenest of jades. Revenge, I'll have, I thought.

"Such a sly, sneaky little snake. I shall clutch its neck and ask it to spontaneously sing for me before it dies." I whisper, once alone. Several eyes darted my way, shaken by the scene that had taken place. "Slither your glances away, please. I'm fine. As sinful as a striped candy cane, partly silver and partly scarlet."
If I must, I will sacrifice my stones for a sandstorm spewed by myself, birthed by me. Anything to steal his sapphire steal to leave him in sadness and sorrow. An eye for an eye. A stone for a stone.

"'Tis night now, go home. Come again another day!" I tell, I yell.
"Tomorrow come, thoughtful or tiresome, tranquil or tensed. So, I may tailor you the stone you need." To them, I say so I tactically put my stones away in places no-one knows. I take my things with me, to take that tiny tottering troll's life if he may threaten mine. But if I do, I'll make sure to take mine too. An eye for an eye. A stone for a stone. A life for a life. Atone, atone.
Under the umbrella I undeniably wait. Uttering utterances that are quiet and sayings that are archaically quaint. I hate urban areas, of which this is so. Urban places are ubiquitous now, though. Ugly and unnatural. Ultraviolet lights. Unusual to me, not unadorned like the countryside that often stinks of horrid things, I must admit.
Oh! - There it goes by! I call it 'it' because it is inhuman, unnatural as ever! Its voice as ugly as an untuned ukulele.

Voice a vicious, harsh one. One that constantly bothers you with begging. A vacuum to all pleasant sound a vapid void of nothingness, looking for more vulgarity - as if that was possible, to fill up its raggedy peasant beige rags with violent shades of magenta and violet too rich for someone as mucky to rightfully afford! It is a thief! And I shall thieve all that it has thieved!

"What is it? Why are you here? When did you first arrive? Who are you? Where do you come from?" I wail at this man's response. He obviously is not it.
It. I need to know its name!
"Why do you need to know all of this? It is wet out here, let me inside where it is wonderfully dry then I shall wilfully spill my secrets, like a willow tree droopily dips it's leaves into the river for the river to taste so that it knows if the willow's woeful life."

"Oh, if I did not hear all of the tunes of a xylophone! I am here," it said, pushing past the guard. "What do you want with me?" it asks.
"He wants our xeric shelter."

"Tell no more then! Out of the icy blue and into the yawning yellow that yawns in comfort and warmth." It says so kindly, to my surprise.
"You took the wrong stones-."
"And you! You yield a weapon! Yellow in its yearlong gold!"

"Stop! You are so spontaneous and zestful in your zeal for whatever it is you seek! Give back what is mine so that I may give you what should have been yours!" I demanded.
"No! You zap me with your zig-zag words no more! I am at my zenith and you dare disrupt me! You know not the zoo I have had to pass to get to this point in my life! A Zanuck I have had to sail on to get here! Through zippy, soul-snatching seas yet you care not to ask! Or to use your eyes to see more than glimmers or gold! Look at all that is mucky with questioning eyes' do you not see the struggles, the pain, the inequality, the poverty? No! You are a zany one in comparison to everyone else! Eyes blind to zeroes!but your rich zone always! You see a horse not a zebra! There are two dichotomous stripes in life. Zodiacs, many. Zillions of zones, of shades of browns to golds. Zillions or types of classes, or circumstances, of personalities- of lives! Zillions. So, forgive meA for I needed the rubies not the jades." And it cried.
Finally, I recognised it as a person. As a 'he' or a 'she'.
"I am sorry, forgive me/ let me now be the one who leaves without the stones he desires." I speak. "I will no longer be zonal or limited. I shall venture with my gemstones, never selling them in one place. And so the rife ended in zen. I sold my stones to people, zillions, diverse and unique. All across the globe. I even zoomed to those who spoke Zulu. Oh what a zealotry journey this ride has been.