(Poem) I Don’t Want the Big Fancy House

-What good are more square feet

if, inside, you’re alone,

amongst “yes men” of loitering and conceit—

too scared to earn thrones of their own?


-Gated districts interest me none.

-They’re just a denial of potential unity with fine local folks.

-It boils to, raising a house of fearful sons,

who’ll grow to not fix a world, so broke.


-You can have the fireplace built into the bedroom wall

and can still be cold as frost, while in your bed.

-It can’t bring warmth, at all,

to a passion-starved marriage already pronounced dead.


-You can fall asleep in the canopied king size, with silk sheets of white,

and still be but a mere boy.

-It’s but a meager place for a different woman to sleep every night.

-But, dozing off in a queen filled with loved ones is a far greater joy.


-I don’t want the big pool.

-It’s far too much to maintain.

-I’d rather put such time into keeping my character retooled

than, with relaxing water, attempt to escape spiritual growing pains.


-Flickering chandeliers can’t make blackened souls shine.

-You can’t prevent your seeds’ future tears by having the sound system custom designed.


-I don’t want to “wow” my family or my friends, with marble floors, detailed wooden doors, and bedrooms galore, into loving me or for us to collectively do The Lord’s will.


-I’d rather humbly live out my days

in a cargo container or under a tin roof

with kin and pals, whom I never have to question the intent of their ways,

while jointly investing in health, character, and truth.


-I want the luxury of not needing proof.


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