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A Corpse

Imagine a place that was the paragon of creative genius
With the money and the freedom to encourage
Experimentation and invention, there was no limit-
Could such a haven be destroyed by the very creativity,
The freedom, that it represented to the entire world,
As the epitome of the elevation of man's mind, imagination, and abilities?

See the crafty, creative bankers reveling in their freedom
To disassemble the economic backbone behind the genius
To suck the life out of the inflated balloon society,
Too caught up in enjoying it's creativity, it's freedom, to notice
The evil seeds lovingly sowed early in the last century.
It's always the strengths which leads to one's destruction
Never the weakness. A sad day indeed
But look around, and all you will see is denial
You see, it's in their best interest
To squeeze out the last drops of liquid
Before they hurl the corpse back at you.

Submitted: Saturday, April 10, 2010
Edited: Thursday, August 30, 2012


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Comments about this poem (A Fable by Patti Masterman )

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  • Martin O'Neill (1/21/2012 2:33:00 AM)

    What do you have if you have a hundred bankers up to their necks in sand?
    Not enough sand.
    'Nuff said.

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  • Adeline Foster (1/19/2012 5:40:00 PM)

    Interesting format for some of these but the message is edifying. Usually yours do remind me of my own. Read - Indebted - good for a laugh.
    Adeline

  • Jim Troy (8/7/2011 4:08:00 AM)

    Very well said and it immediately has the effect of boiling the blood. As it should.
    Writing like this sure help keep awarness to the front.

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