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Midnight is for poetry.
Crass commercialism rules the day.
Midnight is free,
and reality goes away.

Daylight is for the Money God,
and we busy with our tedious employ.
Pay the bills we must.
(Not that it brings us any joy.)

Midnight is for poetry,
when undernourished imagination feasts.
At night, reason is absentee,
and nagging sanity is ceased.

Midnight, when the Money God sleeps.
Calliope upon her ever-flowing scroll enchants,
upon the Earth this magical muse creeps,
seducing solitary scribblers into poetic romance.

Thank you for sharing this poem - not only do I dig your style, but what you say about poetry is so real and true. I feel like a solitary scribbler at times, sitting in my office during the day but then allowing the "magical muse" to creep in at midnight. Excellent poem.

Thank you for posting this. I enjoyed it. The "money god" - I like that name!

Thank you! I'm so glad you enjoyed my little ditty. And actually, George Orwell wrote all about "The Money God" in his lesser-known book, "Keep the Aspidrista Flying." It's about how a dirty little bookstore clerk tries in vain to avoid money and prestige in 1930 's England.
Check it out!