Why I Don’t Shop at IKEA

I lacked a poem subject

So I visited IKEA

So I could flat pack purchase

A flat packed verse idea

That they claim is quick assembly

As it comes with an assembly key

And a line drawn set of drawings

That the words accompany

So I purchased a packed flatpack

That I unpacked in my flat

To inspect the unpacked contents

And instruction book combat

That although simply written

Provoked anxiety

As the words and drawings did not match

They seemed to disagree

Even though they were arranged

Into verses so they rhymed

The actual meaning in them

Was not clearly defined

So I un-unpacked my flat pack

And returning to IKEA

I complained it is impossible

To assemble their idea

As all the steps do is allude

To assembly

And although nicely written

Make not a jot of sense to me

But all they did was smile

And money back decline

As to their understanding

The idea sold was fine

As they said that like their product

Poems meanings are unclear

And the buyer is the one

Who should interpret the idea

But all I could interpret

Was their refund guarantee

So I took the cash they offered

And gave up poetry

Class Act

We do our job and then go home

When daily hours complete

Sign out

Clock off

Reverse and then repeat

A cycle we have followed

To earn a weekly wage

We school gate left and started

And continue to old age

To have the same as everyone

Be the daily same

Never our lot question

As we ambition tame 

And same an annual two-week  

We call our summer break

Getting seaside sun burnt

All-inclusive drunk mistake

Then all-inclusive we return

To further life dilate

As womb to wooden box we live

Our predetermined fate

As womb to wooden box we live

Aware we life stagnate

Cold

He got cold 

And caught a cold

But caught the cold when he was old

And lungs already

Fluid filled

And body chilled

His near and dear

Window silled

In picture frames

Possessions willed

They visit every

Now and then

From now to then

The gaps widen

And when they leave

And see you soon

And love him to

The moon

And back

And worry that

He has a cold

That he is cold

Was always cold

They see themselves

When they see him

They claim to be

His antonym

But they know

They’re just like him

Just as cold

Thanks to him  

They pick a hymn

A eulogy

Try to cry

Eyes stay dry