Herbert Nehrlich

Rookie (04 October 1943 / Germany)

The Broker - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

Is it right to play poker
when you've hidden the joker
skin the people alive
as a property broker?

If one lays a hot hand
on a parcel of land
or a house with the aim
to acquire new fame

one will stand in the middle
to unravel the riddle
and to pull all the wool
over eyes of the fool.

Then the object is sold
and the agent counts gold
from a well-padded bill
all deep waters run still.

Parasitic infections
are like feeble erections
they will rob you of health
and give parasites wealth.

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Comments about The Broker by Herbert Nehrlich

  • (1/6/2006 8:25:00 PM)

    oh Herbert, you touch on one of my pet hates. Bloody estate agents. lol Land agents are worst of all. Smarmy barstewards they have to be. And they rape the countryside for buckets of cash. 10 from Tai, loving kicking their arses. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Friday, January 6, 2006

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