To All The Criminals In The World
What will you do with the money you steal?
Such frivolous ambition, such shallow drive!
Feel alive? A fancy meal?
Believe me there are better things to make life real.
Designer clothes, a fancy house?
Sex to prove that you’re more than mouse?
What’s wrong with you?
You’re gonna die. We all just do.
What in heaven’s name (or hell)!
Greed just makes you small and smell,
The whole ambition yellow.
Gluttony, and hunger,
Drives for more – there more is less;
They’re glamor-less!
Not to speak of pain you cause:
The drain of pain, the chain of pain
you deign to cause!
What can I say?
Betraying what the human beings’s meant to be:
Nice, kind, with generosity
Abounding in all thought and deed, all energy, activity.
To all the thieves and villains,
All the gangsters, burglars, miscreants,
You’re not the fancy pants
You think you are or aim to be.
So I repeat, believe you me,
It’s all so hare-brained. Wait and see!
You will wake up one day and agree.
To All The Criminals In The World 5.16.2017/revised, rewritten 3.7.2020 A Sense Of The Ridiculous II Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Nover Corwin
Arlene Corwin Poetry 