It makes things only far more complicated,
and true values become separated.
When everything is for sale,
it has its great utopian stories to tell.
Until the counted counts and the counts are counted,
the damage is amounted.
The one who has little and wants less is contented richer,
then the one that has much wants more, is more bitter.
Spending money before one has it in haste,
stolen future with borrowed money its a slaving taste.
Master of thief's, criminal greed's and excellent host,
how much are ones worth, if one have it all lost.
God gives those inferior weak some money,
that they feel more superior and funny.
Then all it does is getting some more attention,
the expensive way to be of mention.
Solution become the question of how much,
loosing all intellectual and wisdom touch.
The currency from the garden at home is health,
providing the ultimate joy of wealth.
Tuesday, August 4, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: money