PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

Capital Gain


Infatuated with ourselves
We bath in crops of greed
Sown through our hubris, 
Ignoring the whelps of need.
 
A scourged culture, made
To feast on each other obsessively
Picking flesh from bones.
Reaching the point where
We ruin the welfare
Of a neighbor, in order
To maximize the profits of
The most thriving monopoly.
 
Claiming any Rational would
Do the same; the only logic
Is personal gain? The asylum
Coup d'état, staffed by insane.
 
Struggle will proceed so long as we
Allow capital to dictate whose free.
©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

Doctor Faustus

View all poems →

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.

Log in to leave a comment.