The Golden Bank Poem by Bossman The Writer

Oh man, a restless life we fancy. The joy of being ignored by many. The street that engendered others. Is the same street that spar us; The anticipation of darkness In the capitulating of man to gold. Wealth masked by Effort. The great deal of man's survival Life not echoing negotiations anymore, At the door steps of our liberty. Dreams dearer than the germs of our lives. The drive to rescind a mission. The flower looks back only to appreciate life. The ordinary keeps dreaming to the heart of the golden back.