Some want to redistribute wealth
Perhaps instead we should redistribute love
Then wealth would redistribute itself

Look at our daughters
They now show no ill in laying with men old as their fathers
Look at our sons
Nothing is holding them back from scamming the green people with their bad brain and laptops

Look at our mothers, fathers, the young men and alike; women,
They now have no time for their own children,
Everyone is too busy searching for just one thing,
And that is known as MONEY!

Why will a lady lay with a dog?
Or why’ll she prefer to be known in the environ as a hog?
Is it not just for one thing?
They choose to sell their body?

Why will a schooler choose to become a drop-out with no good passion?
But he’s trying to boycott hardships and hardwork
He’ll just join the bad gang
And will receive money off stealing from the innocent man

He’ll swerve off money from the fleeceable parents
And to all their good, he’ll put an end
He’s not *******
He just wants the wealth; in anyway it comes and at whatsoever cost, he cares less!

Blame it on the money,
What is ours is now owning us,
And we still show no remorse,
As even today, some of your sons and daughters are still singing this MONEY SONG!

©Emmiasky Ojex

i was born of rough cloth.
it cradled me from youth
it kept me scarcely warm,
and amply humble.

but i grew a longing for silk and silver—
a softer touch,
a glimmer around my neck.

my head rests against your chest—
your cashmere skin greets my weary cheek
i hear that gem beating in your jewelry box
a scarlet ruby,
plated in the pure gold of your love.

i run my fingers through your amber satin ribbons.
you laugh a music box tune and i long to dance.

your smile shines in pure ivory,
and your eyes twinkle with a clarity
the finest of diamonds envy.

i look at you,
rich with love
and i remember
my wealth.

What say you?
Man in a business suit
Standing to my left
In the middle of a crosswalk
Do you have a moment to talk?
Orange hands and little green men
And we go on our way
       Okay
         We’ll chat another day

What say you?
Man in a business suit
Standing to my right
On Martin Luther and Lime
You haven’t worried about money in a while.
But where is your smile?
Do you know your child?
      Please
        Spare a moment of your time

What say you?
Men in business suits
Walking fast on the street
Somewhere important to be
Do rats sometimes think racing is fun?
I never thought about that
When I said I was done
              Maybe
               I am one of the lucky ones

Wealth drips from the fingertips of the rich
They languish in the materialism of the good life
Living out heaven on earth

The rumble of an empty stomach echoes through an alley
***** and homeless, people crawl to their tents
living to starve another day

Flashing lights brighten their already made faces
As they step carefully out of the limousine
Greeting the crowd with a wave, they enter through double doors
Ready to make a dramatic entrance

They sneak a sandwich through their ratty sleeve
As they wander through the convenience store
Desiring the things they cannot purchase
Alarms ring in their arrest

Bubbling champagne fills them with giddiness
Socializing with the friends that stick around for the money
The wealth that you have
And that they want

Waiting for your release
From this empty, pitiful cell
They stare at the wall,
Marked with the days until release into a life worse than before

As they head home, you realize
Is this a life worth living?
With fake friendships
And worthless objects surrounding you

As they uncuff you, you realize
Is this a life worth living?
With poverty at every open door
And no future to look forward to?

They both rush to the brooklyn bridge
Poised for the rush of bone-chilling water to fill their lungs
But as they look out at the city
The bright lights spell out:
The system is broken

The discrimination amongst our nation is shamefully blatant
Why can't certain individuals have patience
We live world full of colour and sounds
Why do people walk around with frowns?
Maybe somthing happend to them when they were younger
Or sat on the streets dying of hunger
If there's one wish I could make
It would be to take
All the world's riches and share them freely
Can't we all just for one second
Think about the poor and needy

What zen
would then
have me
be, at
peace
with I?

Myself
the wealth
of all
the world
inside.

It started off as a simple plan to rob a man to pay the Man
I thought it would only be once, but it turned into something that I could not stand.

I felt guilty because I knew it was wrong, but Paul kept harassing me to pay it all. Peter, not expecting to be taken again, but it happened again and again and again.

I knew it was wrong to Rob Peter to Pay Paul!

Was I a crook? Was I a thief?  All I knew was that I needed relief.
So, no matter what it would take, I would continue to Rob Peter to make all ends meet.

Paul, in turn, wasn’t a friendly man.  All he did was hold out his hand.  Give me! Pay me! It’s due today.  You see, Paul had consequences if you paid him late.

Stuck between a rock and a real hard place, I knew I had to do something before it was too late.

I put a gun to Peter’s head and took his money and turned and said, “I did it Paul! Now, here you go.  The money for the car note, groceries, lights, a new coat.”

He looked at me with no remorse in his eyes.  A look that I really despised. He said, “Great.  You did it.  Now, do it again.  Unless you do something different, you will be doing this again, again, and again—my friend.”

When you’re a PA, every day you try to make people healthy, but you have to be stealthy because only the really wealthy seem to care, the rest are trying to get by and they don’t ask why, they don’t cry, they just do, so it’s you who has to sneak some health into their day to day, make their pain go away without any lifestyle change, and it’s strange and outrageous but poverty isn’t contagious, so you treat everything else and hope that somebody else gets to the root of the problem, because you’re just a brute who will rob them of their copay when they really need a good job and decent pay, a balance between work and play, something to pray to and something to eat that’s not fast food, but you don’t want to be rude and you only have ten minutes to fit it in so you refill their meds and hope the feds don’t catch you giving pain pills to someone who’s not dying, even if they’re crying, you have to be tough, because life is rough and sometimes tylenol has to be enough, because they might abuse and you have a license you could lose and it’s not worth the risk, but if you’re not taking risks what is this, why are you here, why live in fear when you could be changing lives, giving high fives to patients who not only survived, but were given the tools to thrive, isn’t that what you’re striving for, and when you walk in the door the smile should be real, you should feel something, reveal the truth and heal deeper than the surface, because these are real humans and they’re worth it.