my weekend

all around is mediocre ochre,
dusky yellow like dirty sunshine.

toned and matched with metallic grey,
safe and soulless, comfortingly neutral.

asymmetric geometric patterns abound,
hip, industrial and limitlessly artificial.

plump rugs are scattered nonchalantly,
knee burners, dust collectors, floor beds.

chenille cushions bounce in the showroom lights,
comfy and soft, soothing and matching, opulent hugs.

this is the world of soft furnishings,
a world of conspiracy, Orwellian globalisation.

tricky contrast stitching sings for attention,
anti-matter piping, non-conforming and very, very nice.

a melange of home accessories, eye popping necessities,
difficult, petulant, ballsy, cringeworthy, daring and wrong.

revealing open storage, end-of-pier, naked and visceral,
chaos and ugliness, showy accessibility, boring and unfinished.

splurgy pouffes dot about like lumpy hummocks,
restful foot sanctuaries, emergency coffee tables.

keeping up with the Joneses Orla Keeley prints,
smell of common naff, although, in small doses, pretty.

mundane e14 led bulbs shine a light on the collection,
bright and white, modern and functional mini energy saving suns.

like sheep, following the flickering directional arrows,
conformity and order mixed with ‘excuse me’ rebellious discord.

to Ikea and a land of 90% crap and 10% must have design genius,
meatballs meet Abba, porn meets functional particle fibre board.

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