Graham Fowell


Au


My fellow man are wankers
What's happened to them all?
They used to be humanity
But the glass begins to fall.

The penny pinching money blind
Trample on our souls,
Extracting all that's pure and good
And storing it in holes.

While simple progeny of Adam
Starve and ail and die,
Who made some behave this way,
When we all learned how to fly.

The greedy short term legacies,
Which pass from fool to fool,
Should really be diluted
In our only earth gene pool.

To help us all of common bond,
To flourish on our sphere
And stop the soulless pile of gold
Which charts the course we steer.

Submitted: Monday, July 14, 2014
Edited: Monday, July 14, 2014

Topic of this poem: philosophy


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