Pockets Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Whoever has the pockets,
Deep and filled with cash.
Keys to unlock,
Polished mahogany doors.
To open unto smooth marble floors.
And influential friends.
They do not have to prove,
A having of intelligence.
Or competence to perform a task.
Done to do whatever they wish.
Doing to get what they want.
Whenever they please.

Whoever has the pockets,
Deep and filled with cash.
And has an ivory toilet.
Adorned with an 18 carat handled,
To flush whatever it is...
That has come from their butts.
Guess what?
Humanity...
Division, racism, confusion, conflicts,
Pandemics, epidemics, burnt toast.
And the troubles of the World,
Is just another boring game played!

To be played until the maid,
Brings the waffles, maple syrup.
Scrambled eggs.
Slices of baked honey ham.
Freshly brewed coffee.
And orange juiced.
Squeezed from their private orchard.
Served...
While flying inside,
A customized jet above the chaos.
They may or may not have started.
Just for 'thrills' to entertain,
Themselves and invited guests.