A man wore silk designer suits
Rolex on his wrist
His shoes were made in Italy
Had trillions in his fist

He had the perfect trophy wife
Kids in private schools
Drove Bentleys and Mercedes
He was no one's fool

He had mansions worldwide
Shopped Paris on the Rue
His address was a penthouse
On 5th Avenue

-

There was a man without a dime
Who lived upon a grate
Where warm air from the subway
Could share in his "estate"

He wore the rags which he had found
In shelters on the way
He sat and watched the rich man
Who walked by that day

His groaning and his mumbling
Annoyed the wealthy man
Who took care to walk around him
As he went about his plans

-

The rich man died a hero
His widow & kids drew hence
His many friends came round about
They spared no expense

The poor begger had no one
Had no money saved
He was thrown on a dungheap
They call a "pauper's grave"

-

The rich man had been lavish
He'd fared well every day
But he was a corporate mobster
So he had hell to pay

The poor man was redeemed of God
That is why he lost his job
He wouldn't serve up to the mob
And so his end was like a sob

He thanked God with his last breath
With grace endured ignoble death

But it had no strength to sting
The angels bore him on their wings

Eternity in everything

So which was the human being
Who had greatest gain?
This is an age old story
But the fact remains

The rich man saw the poor one
Again after his death
In heaven... joyous... SINGING!

While He could not draw breath!


SoulSurvivor
(C) 8/17/2016

Just pick yourself up
Be your own sunshine
Remove from the darkness
That has left you blind
You can make it
All you have to do is try
Put forth your best effort
Be gentle and kind

the clouds
are dancing
beside the moonlight,

i can smell
the fragrance
of the sea breeze,

the wind blows
in sweetest rhythm
of how our hearts
beat when we're together,

the leaves sway
like we hold
each other's hands,

lying in the sand,
i realized,
we never grow up,
we're always
too young
to fall in love

Paradise Child is
The world of different
Meaning like paradise
Is vacation
Sometimes poet and poetress
Need a plan called "paradise"
But to get that you
Have to able to feel comfortable
And wisdom.

I tell myself that
I am a Paradise child
To show the universe
That I am who I am
Looking for more information
Contained who is the Paradise
Child?

Paradise is Child
Child is Paradise
Paradise and the world are two
Things I love
And I hope that I am the
Paradise Child.

                      By K-mari ©2016

Remember that the most miserable man in the world smiles and tells everyone he's okay.