Materialistic

What can I say?
I invest my heart too much
In earthly objects.
Muted lighting and walk in closets
And sunken baths
And gravelled paths
Through my personal patio.

What can I say?
I pin my hopes too much
On a million dollar property.
The folks back home
Would swoon and faint
Over this blatant lust
For concrete and paint.

What can I say?
I cannot rise above this greed, this
Fleshly creed of desire,
This fire
Of the need to posess, own,
Hoard.

Quitting the Quotidian

I wonder sometimes
Why it took so long
For the scales to fall from my eyes.
God knows I was told often enough
About the mean pickings.

But what finally got to me the most, I think,
Is when they took me for a ride
And told me I was pedestrian.

So here I go,
Clambering out of the quotidian.