Richly Poor

Richly Poor

So you're sick and tired of the poor and their constant wretched utter complaining,
how their futile lives mean nothing except to the economy of which they're draining.
The woes of the abandoned are sickening to your fine-tuned well covered deaf ears,
not to mention the orphaned are crying loudly concerning their "petty" little fears.

You wonder why the news wastes broadcast time with their stories repeatedly told,
you're disgustingly upset you paused to listen and now your caviar has gotten old.
If only everyone was born into wealth and guidance like precious shiny fortunate you,
showered with numerous life options overwhelmed which success easily to choose.

What if you're eyesight was suddenly taken away from you by a suicidal terrorist blast?
What if you're fatted calf stomach was suddenly forced to continually unmercifully fast?
What if your daily woes you screamed about were silenced not allowing anyone to help?
What if your disfigured abandonment had no company to keep except the company of yourself?

Keep in mind then all the money you have will one Day quickly abandon you as well,
when you die it goes to the ones whom are surrounding you as though a social shell.
It's then your naked Soul shall weep and realize the value of a mere harmless spark,
what financial Light shall guide you safely home from this Spiritually unknown dark.

Randall Paul Prazuch
Copyright © 2011

Originally posted 2011-07-14 20:48:53. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

This entry was posted in Original Poetry, Randall Prazuch by Randall Prazuch. Bookmark the permalink.

About Randall Prazuch

Randall Prazuch loves THE LORD GOD JESUS CHRIST and all that encompasses HIM, family, friends, and helping the poor, the disabled, and the destitute. He is a cancer survivor since 1989. Randall has been an advocate for Medical Cannabis since 1989, and helps fight against unjust laws, especially as a member of and author for the Northern Wisconsin chapter of NORML (National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws.

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