The Death of Capitalism.
John Tomlinson – Australia
Pennies sit on sunken eyes
pearls around your neck,
your mouth is stuffed with silver
with gold on your wedding finger.
The triumphs of a lifetime
buy a coffin lined with velvet
in a home down by the harbour
and hands unsoiled by labour.
No one crying at your dying,
lying in an empty mausoleum.
No friends scurrying round
in a world devoid of sound.
A life of deceitful greed
the ultimate individual
with riches by the score
as you reach your final shore.
The poor smile at your passing
as they celebrate in solidarity
whilst sharing your estate.
It’s the end to greed and hate.