There are those who collect objects instead of human kind
Like paper, cans and fence posts or anything they find.
The present’s not their bag since the future’s their sole aim.
They only love their stuff, so today’s people aren’t their game.
Sadly, they’ve got it backward since they’ve died before they live.
Their damnation is here and now and there’s no one to forgive.
Such thoughtless, selfish peasants choosing objects over mankind.
The more wealth they seek to garner, the less value will they find.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Another great write. You have quite a few poems. You ever think about publishing them? My dream is to have a musician compose music for one of my poems. That would be the ultimate!