What purpose do I have here on Earth?

From imperfection a violent seed
Is born. Do I have a purpose tonight?
Across the ocean I have seen moonlight
Cast itself across the cold ripples, plead
Coldly like my stagnant spirit. Too much
Oatmeal or salt says you are what you eat.
Lumpy gravy gets away with it. Feet
Arching like slender ballerinas, such
Fine arches for a day of shopping.  Malls
Inherit the new merchandise. Clicking
About in her heels she finds slim pickings
Not enough for the new season.  Hauls
Christmas in in place of clearance racks, she's
On top of that sale, for Black Friday, please!



*fiaccola-torch, fianco-side

Reviews

[Solitary_Streets]

Unique piece of art. I feel like the best poems are when you combine something you don't expect, which you obviously did. Something of a simple idea, I felt like it needed more but once again it's a simple idea, voice, and poem, you did it very well.

[Afraa]

Very unique poet you are.

[Alan B.]

I felt a deep despair in this poem with the beginning musing over the emptiness of the spirit, then quickly covered up with shopping on Black Friday. I don't know if you meant it as a cultural criticism but I felt the ineffable falsity of the happiness people pretend to feel during the holidays.