Photo by Alesia Kozik on

How much equity lies in your equities,
How many shares do you share,
How much stock do you take of your stock,
Could anyone claim that you care?

Do you think of the mass as your masses amass,
Counting the money you're worth,
Clutching your pass into platinum-class;
What about poor planet earth?

The waiter pours more of the vintage champagne
As you raise a glass to the poor;
Does your need for greed supersede everything,
Are workers a class to ignore?

When you lie in your shroud and you head for the clouds,
Your money is not worth a jot.
That final hour isn't money or power,
You can't take it with you, you clot!

Big Cheeses

Photo by Polina Tankilevitch on
Big Cheeses

Too many powerful people, 
most of them somebody's son
think the answer to dealing with conflict
is found at the end of a gun.

Politicians who stroke their own egos,
les Grosses TĂȘtes, and all the Big cheeses,
can't even find a solution
to nature's most simple diseases.

Money, that root of all evil
puts power in the hands of a few
who think nothing of murdering thousands
to succeed in their own bloody coups.

Ask any tinpot dictator
what weapon they hold the most dear,
to subjugate millions of people,
the essential ingredient is fear.

Religious cleansing and fatwahs,
genocide, fueled by hate,
minds of the masses polluted
by those who corrupt and dictate.

In terms of the life of our planet,
we've been on it a minute, at most,
if we don't stem this tide of corruption,
we may as well give up the ghost.

My Muck

Photo by Kenneth Carpina on
My muck

If I paid twenty bucks, for a buckle,
Or, tickled some chooks, for a chuckle,
Looked in a nook, for a knuckle,
Trashed up my truck, for a truckle,
Or taught my dear honey to suckle,
Would that help my muck make a muckle?

A nod to Mr Lear

Photo by Alexander Mils on
A nod to Mr Lear 

Limericks, are meant to be funny, 
Not taken too seriously, honey. 
I did what you said, 
When you took me to bed, 
So, shut up and give me the money.


Photo by Gustavo Fring on

Our shopping trip took longer
When he forgot the money
If we hadn't lived ten miles away
It would have been quite funny.


Photo by Dominika Roseclay on
I read in the papers that Burnley
Are getting a striker, that's cool
They only paid twenty five million
He probably still goes to school.

The Scammer

Photo by Dids on
The Scammer
love was in her heart
was in her fat bank account.
%d bloggers like this: