Hemocyanin

Standard

You and I

have new blood,

The oxygen we need,

pulled from each breath,

is cradled

in a molecular nest,

and bound in iron:

scarlet Hemoglobin.

But our ancient ancestors,

and the still-living

relics of the copper age,

still hold to

their old ways.

It courses through their veins,

blue

like the patina

on a penny,

that’s seen

better days.

Red blood caught on,

but ours is not the only way.

Our cousins in the deep,

also well-travelled,

use azure Hemocyanin

it still works it’s magic,

just like ours

but matches their lifestyle,

working tirelessly

undaunted by cold,

darkness,

and depth.

Flesh and blood,

follow their own

rhyme and reason,

what falls out of fashion

can often still function,

in the right place,

at the right time

and in the right hands.

Bootlegs

Standard

Thank you for your patronage,

please come back soon!

When time is money,

there’s always something to do,

something new to see,

but only if you’ve already

won the lottery.

Success is timing, position,

some natural talent, skill

and heaps of dumb luck.

Many more

came before you,

with the same big dreams

playing in their minds,

but few have seen

their designs

pan out.

It feels like stealing,

but we can’t blame people

for doing what works,

and won’t put a stop to it

any time soon.

Shutting down a kiosk,

selling off-brand handbags,

t-shirts and shoes

is cutting down one bamboo stalk

in a vast forest,

hightailing it out

and congratulating yourself,

only to return again tomorrow

to do it all over.

They, like you, are also the little guy

and we all have big dreams here,

but there are bills to pay

and time is money-

there’s only so much

to be made and spent

in a day.

Imitation is flattery,

and in an uncertain world,

I’d be honored to be called

a safe bet.

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If you like my work, check out my social media pages!

Facebook: The File Pile

Instagram: @thefilepile

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Through the Micrometer

Standard

Bit,

by agonizing

bit.

Every tooth will fit

neatly into its

corresponding groove,

so that all

goes smoothly along,

without a drop of oil,

or so help me

God.

I will breathe life into this machine,

by the sweat of my brow,

the skill in my heart

and every tool on my belt.

There is no room for interpretation in my work,

it is so,

or it does not function.

I consult my micrometer,

and make my judgement calls,

which bits can serve,

and which

must be filed down,

beaten flush,

or discarded.

I am the Stradivari

of player pianos,

my creations will help themselves,

play their parts

and serve their needs

with or without you.