POETRY
PORTRAITS
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He wakes up in the morning,
self centered, uncommitted and uncaring.
Never daring to love, unable to give,
he lives for himself alone.
He rapes the Earth, pollutes the air
and plots against his fellow man.
Listen you can hear his hellish moan.
He's so slick in his deals,
you'd never know if he feels remorse or not.
He's so spiritually bankrupt and morally corrupt,
the only thing that matters is not to get caught.
The higher the profit, the sweeter the praise,
to the successful man our glasses we raise,
look into his eyes you can see his craze.
He builds his glass cities to the great God profit,
on the blood and tears of the weak and the poor,
all the while he secretly chants,
give me more, give me more.
To hell with the children, to hell with the wife,
to hell with the other guy,
it's not my life!