The Ignoble Plutocrat Poem by Steve Trimmer

A vault he opens; His holy sacristy of empty and faithless glee
Replete with all opulent gauds and blood-soaked currencies
Licking fingers in anticipation
Of counting his green bills, malaise securities
And his fardel of cold-hearted contentment

Disdainfully, he glares out from behind his window
Vexed with envy he looks toward the ben
Seeing the recalcitrant troglodyte dancing in the gnosis of summer’s rain
Unburdened by worldly consciousness
The cave man laughs amusedly
At the enslaved plutocrat, gaoled hind a pane of glass
Who sits trapped, in the bemired wealth of his own manse and demesne