Author: Mark Spencer
At the heart of man’s origin,
Clarity will be gained.
In seeing what we used to be,
Perspective is attained.
Survival was a daily chore,
Mankind had few careers,
They were hunters and gatherers,
Throughout the early years.
The males who had no hunting skills,
Or strength to till the earth,
Were left to survive on their own,
Since their kind had no worth.
For one hundred millennia
Man followed nature’s rules.
Until one clever vagabond,
Played them all for fools.
He had found some golden nuggets,
In several mountain streams.
He said: “This gold is valuable,
Behold the way it gleams!”
And everyone was hypnotized
By his sparkling stones.
They knelt before the vagabond,
And each, asked him for loans.
Thus, gold became a precious thing,
Designed to buy the time
Of those whose greed was strong enough,
To crawl through filth and slime.
It bought the livestock and the land,
And built communities;
It designed laws to benefit
The wealthy were the vagabonds,
Discarded in disgrace.
But gold and greed would bring them back,
To rule the human race.
And so, the most useless of men,
Became our lords, and kings.
And the weak made the mighty bow,
Before their shiny things.
They built themselves a Camelot,
Atop a delusion,
One that prevails unto this day,
Fueled by an illusion.
For if you take away the gold
Adorning their attire,
You’ll only see a vagabond,
With nothing you desire.
Yet man remains a lustful child,
Still longing to succeed.
A prisoner of his desires,
Held captive by his greed.
Comments on this poem/writing:
|Megan (184.108.40.206) -- Monday, April 26 2010, 11:39 pm|
This is an incredible poem! It makes sense.
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