Poetry Collections
Currently Available
THE WORD
Hey big Target
Wearing that bull’s eye
That massive portfolio
Tens of millions of shares
And loo, the responsibility –
Sheparding all that cash
To worthy investments
In people and their projects
A bit of worship expended –
The dimes and dollars in the basket
Passed from soul to soul
In the pews of the church
As if cash was the word
And the word was cash.
So out into the vestibule
Saunters the scoundrel King.
“Hah! These are imposters” he announces
As he levies taxes on the donations.
“We are but humble servants sire”
The techies respond.
“We love the state and your crown
But we are paupers –
Ourselves in debt.”
“But why would you give to this church
If you are in debt? He asks.
“Why, sir, we give to keep our hopes up –
The good Lord might favor us –
It seems the only way out of debt.”
Our King sees the righteousness
Of the sniveling masses
And increases taxes only slightly
This year due to declining inflation,
Although independent
analyses dispute the claim.
231115.1