Treasure Island

Leaking Pen

(Wellington, New Zealand)

The Pursuit Of Happiness


Who is blowing down my front bent doors?
Where my cracked ceilings are too low
I stand on slippery creaking wooden floors
Greed bleeds the heart of each morning glow

Take me far away to the outer limits
My hope, my poem, my universe
Beyond the reach where each breach commits
Heart of the orient prays to the purse

The Far East knows but one love
24 seven each second magnifies the bank line
The west purposely exported its soul’s trove
The east mimics to the tee the dollar sign

The king becomes the slave and devoid
Of heart, but an enlarged bank account
The salve now slaves just to avoid
The cancerous low blood cells count

The apple lost its battle to the heartworm
The worm in turn dying from its concern
Of not bullying fast the market’s brokerage firm
Its bear claws lurk beneath each lasting burn

Wake up the conscious of the world
Turn a new page and save the poor
Africa in its Sahara desert curled
Utopia masks the Nile’s grandeur

The Maple leaf and the last Eagle
Lay side by side inside the stone crypt
Europe justice chastise the illegal
Macbeth's guilt today’s demonic script

Venezuela just lost her Hugo Chavez
Argentina’s tango slips on decaying floors
Brazil evicts its poor for the Olympic prez
Columbia and Peru pile up new stores

If this poem does not move one single chameleon soul
To act on behalf our present and future children’s children
Our past the museum justice from a broken jar scroll
Would justice ever bind Isaac to Ishmael's grand children?


For all who live in glass houses on top of the hill
Immunity from tornadoes just a flight of fancy
One-day politician’s souls have to account for their chill
As they keep plotting and purposely act chancy

Why not command words to verse as best as I can
To highlight injustices hiding with the ostrich head
Wake up my fellow man the Bible’s conscious and the Quran
Have they not all bled the Torah and the Buddha from A to Z

Enough talk and its time for actions
The dying flame at it ends’ wick
I have highlighted the ills’ fractions
Join me to change the current flick!


June 11,2013
Copyright Leaking Pen 2013

Submitted: Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Edited: Thursday, June 13, 2013

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Comments about this poem (The Pursuit Of Happiness by Leaking Pen )

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  • David Wood (6/13/2013 1:23:00 PM)

    Man has made a mess of this world and will leave his children a big mess. You've outlined this well (Report) Reply

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