Economic Armageddon

[Vignette]

A young man,
his white crown beyond his years,
buys his courage -
Scotch, neat.

He slouches on the stool,
eyes frozen below the horizon.
His face a barren field.

He pays no heed
to the stains
of dried piss and vomit
on the floor.

Signs of the casualties of war,
whose hopes
were blown to smithereens
by dirty bombs
in corporate briefcases.

The despair
burrows into his brain
and steals his dreams.
Butchered and sold by the piece,
to cannibalistic men of greed,
for a pittance.

Pickled thoughts that sting the palate
and burn the stomach
are all that’s left to sate a dying hunger.

He raises his glass.
His hand trembling,
his voice quivering,

Bartender – another one.

[vivige81]

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[Jack of Hearts]

Particularly angsty, isn't it? The 'white crown' reminded this reader of Holden Caulfield (who, in the novel, had either grey or white hair on one side of his head, connected to a traumatic event). The poem feels a bit stunted by its own subject matter, but hey, if you were feeling it, at least it's honest.

Maybe the title is supposed to mean that the end of a certain world/worldview is coming to an end due to economics/practicality in lieu of dreams? The reader isn't sure.



J

[Vignette]

Thank you, Vivige81. :-)

Hi JoH - over the last 4 years I have watched friends and co-workers lose their jobs and their homes during these trying economic times. The toll it takes is painful. This was an attempt to convey the hopelessness and heartache of watching one's future disappear. Thanks for reading and commenting. :-)