There will always be resistance
and people trying for change, For
The Strong are always building their houses of Power
to maintain exclusive use of the world’s Resources
It’s easy to imagine yourself a millionaire
and nobody in the world to help
The Weak are always mumbling and
fumbling up their cards
the mountain is for the exclusive use
of those that love Muhammed
Those who work will always remember
those who don’t
And it seems they are paving the way
for the feeble to steal
a try at the wheel of life
and why should they?
There has always been laughter
in the hereverafter
fumbling with coats that should’ve been
checked at the door
like a tip that won’t fit in the pocket of a dress
Caught in the death throes of bumble bees
only a few kinds left
killer bees say some – not workers anymore
the mountain has come to Mohammed
I See a Crooked $ Sign
October 14, 2008 · Leave a Comment
I see a crooked $ sign in the distance
waiting for my arrival
from working those MARKETING PLANS,
helping others
and wasting the past
weathering the death storms
tired of keeping these eyes open
Hating paranoid Users
– looting the helpful poor.
There it looms, not green, but dusky brown
reddish in parts, like the blood poured over it to keep it safe
a worn sign made of diseased wood
gray actually – pretty faded,
pretty jaded
I seen jade in Lonsdale Quay today
and it was more precious
than any dollars I’ve ever seen
Categories: poems about blood · social commentary
Tagged: $, dollars, jade, jaded, paranoid, poverty, reddish