Fortune Favors the Soulless
A Poem
--
you think you’re the real deal, huh,
while the rest of us just pose
and you’re counting that money,
one dollar at a time,
a cash flow you could drown in
well, I’m not buying it
when you say you’re happy
in your little bubble world,
separated from any problems —
especially the ones outside your door
you watch the wildfires on TV
and pretend you’re innocent
while your machines choked
every bit of life from the land
and made a new graveyard
they catch your smile in fragments,
anything to advertise
what a good man you are —
but we smell the lie
as if it were cheap cologne
you cheer on war after war —
anything to drive stocks up or down,
anything to make you worth more —
and the truth is your humanity card
should have been revoked long ago
I’ll always believe it
when they say money corrupts —
because I’m seen no good come of it
as people build up their coffers
even though they can’t take it with them
maybe you were a good man, once,
but those stories are long past —
legacies for better people out there;
now the only thing you can cling to
is the hope of a planet that doesn’t know you
well, I know you,
and the world knows you —
and no space expedition can save
someone like you who sold away
his soul at the gambling table
oh, what a world —
one you’ll say goodbye to,
one we’ll die upon —
and so life goes on
in a bid for one last tragedy
This is another poem in the vein of the ones shared below:
