Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2016
The fat cats live among us,
atop the highest hills;
they don't take generic,
inexpensive pills.
Money is no object,
it must be wonderful;
to be above the simple,
middle-class or dull.
They're gated and secure,
locked up in their own space;
you don't know them personally,
only by their face.
They are the ones that rule
by the power of the dollar;
they've degrees you do not have,
the educated scholar.
The money grabbing miser,
who sits upon his throne;
who seldom sees his neighbor,
and does not throw a bone.
David Lessard
Written by
David Lessard  75/M/Prescott, Arizona
(75/M/Prescott, Arizona)   
285
   ryn and K-mari AJani Jones
Please log in to view and add comments on poems