Value of money should be asked to those
Who are in need due to any cause
Those small children like a rose
They also need a proper dose

A dose of proper medicine
They haven’t did any sin
But they are still paying for it
Working in fields and digging themselves in pit

No one ask them for help
Rich is wasting their power and pelf
Is someone there who’s listening their cry
Someone has to made a try

Those small children like new flowers
Need some help to get powers
Only then they can do something
Only than these birds can open their wings

Sake bowls and forks and knives,
And tables strewn with overgrown hives
Of mahogany stools and empty plates
And rosy cheeks that scream wealth is fate.

From the window a rag man peeks his head,
His only child starved cold and dead.
He glares at broken bread inside of bowls
Then at his ragged pants, pocked with holes.

An earthquake deep within a cage
Rocks his hands with carnal rage
He begs the stars for mercy and prays for light
But his shouts echo dully into the night.

Tears sting hot on a kettle bell
And on asphalt grass far down in hell
The winds whip through and tear to shreds
His eternal cushion on concrete bed.

He kneels like a pauper to his King
And cups his hands and starts to sing
A melody that floats like air
To free himself from glowing despair.

His voice trails off as time grows dim
And golden watches tick on a whim
Before he lies on the ground to die
He asks God why, oh why, oh why?

Morning light shines down today
And lights the rag man's figure away
No eulogies given for splitting holes
In clothes, in hearts, or even in bones.

corruption and greed
it is money that we need
to satisfy our hunger
for food and drugs and plunder
we know what we want and will do what we can
to be nothing but the top dog, the man with the plan
rats get fat while brave men die
if you're not rich, isn't it easy to see why?
they live in luxury and security
the way they earn it is through impurity

"Why did
you let that
man cut?"

"Because your
mother is a
good person."

My dreams
do not come attached to
the ideals of my people
or the sacrifices of another country.

Instead I am poor
and mine are clinging to life
the very idea of existence.

Mundane flashes--
not adventurous endeavors
nor flights around the world
this is what richly folks do.

Simply a mingler
someone whose life
flourishes around the bends
of florescent street lights
and panhandling
nearby a farmers market
just after sunrise.

This remnant is few
as these are neighbors
local countrymen
who stoically face
the world's deviation
and deprivation
from coexisting

by the bonds of
agriculture and personality
even as a beggar
it is but a joyous memento
to a world that
no longer thrives.

He grew up just him and his poor mother
No sweet sister, no rough and tumble brother
His Dad was M.I.A.
It happened in the usual way

But he didn't care
A cub never needs a father bear
His mother sufficed
Taught him wrong from right

He had it all figured out
He knew without a doubt
He had watched the rich kids laugh and joke
While in property he wallered and choked

So he studied hard and got good grades
In college he didn't party, never went to any raves
Got a corporate job, had a 3 figure income
He had money to pay bills, buy cars and then some

He took care of his mom till she passed away
He learned a great lessons on that rainy gray day
Money couldn't stop his mom from dying
Grown men where not above crying

The years quickly passed, he was married to his job
To those less fortunate he was a snob
On the streets he never gave the bums a secound look
If they had only took a page out of his book

He thought money was the way to happiness
Those he thought of as sad always had less
He had forgot about the lesson of the stone with it's dashes
Then the day came when the stock market crashes

He should of invested his time in a family
Instead of that money tree
For soon all his money was gone
Things in his life was going all wrong
His job disappeared, along with his home
Soon on the streets he had to roam

Now he was one of the despised
But on the streets he truly grew wise

Through hardship he found true friends
The ones that would help you to no end
For they know the pain of need
There was never any thought of greed

He was astonishingly amazed
That even with the poverty that he was grazed
He was happier now
Than chasing that cash cow

A good woman found him
His future then didn't look so grim
Years passed and they married
Over thier rundown apartment threshold, her he carried
Soon it was babies in his arms
He truly knew now his vision of life had been wrong

Now he knew
Where it was that happiness grew
In the hearts of ones you loved and cared for
Being rich or being poor was both a chore
It's all just clatter
Unless to someone else you matter

We trade words like old coins,
Rattling them in our piggybanks
Until they clink past our teeth
And onto the floor between us.
Coin for coin,
They slide in exchange.
Fair is fair,
Each is stashed in the others collection.
And when we leave,
I know our sums have stayed the same,
But somehow I always feel richer.