A man is not made of money.
What green greed that
Hides in the pocket
Of these bourgeoise
Our leaders,
Motionless.
Their hands stay by their side
And the machine rests,
Cold and dead.
But also red,
Painted by the hands
Of the hierarchy,
Hiding their brands,
Into words that leave
your lips.
Toddlers with Lego,
Building their empires.
Leggo my Eggo.
Their only food,
Not waffles, but
Your wallet.
Capital One only takes
One Capitalist
What’s in your wallet?
An empty cause.
Because your desire,
Comes from the heart,
But when your chest is vacant
You have no soul.
Blind to the world,
Blind; your eyes
Lack conviction.
Lack skin
On their heads,
Bare boned
Big boned
Wealthy:
Our “upper class”;
Classless, undead skeletons
Who wave around their scythe.
To slash at the paper
That holds up your home,
And make you bleed
Green; bandaging your wound
With price tags,
Our minds,
Not noticing,
because we are trapped
in the maze;
Rats looking for
Cheese.
They say the dream takes ease?
When our empty palms
Hang out, writing the words,
please.
A man is not made of money.
Though money makes the man.
And only then,
When your fingers reek
From the materialistic dynamo
That drives your engine;
When you realize,
Money can’t buy you love
But it’ll buy everything else;
Then you can change the world.
When a new phone
Is worth more than
Saving a child’s life
But you buy it,
So you can read about
The child whose
Life is too dark,
You can change the world
By turning up the brightness
In front of your face
To hide from his smile,
Because he is wealthier
than you will ever be.
A man is not made of money
But his choices are.
If you hadn’t already guessed this poem is about a few topic that I always see in everyday life: Consumerism, Consumption, and Greed. Whether that be corporate or just by the single consumer, it affects everyone. But the thing is we don’t even realize what other people are experiencing, because we are all so caught up in staying financially stable. There are people who live every day with less than us and yet we don’t do anything about it. Yet strangely, they are just as happy than the spoiled are with what they have. It really just bugs me, so here are my thoughts in poetry.
Quirk, Mary Beth. “Ash.” Photo. consumerist April 1, 2013. Dec. 1, 2015. <http://consumerist.com/2013/04/01/we-spend-crumpled-money-faster-than-crisp-bills-because-eww-other-people-have-touched-it/>