Small change
Who would
choose penny
(if you could,
would ye?)
over pound
— when for gold
world goes round
from days of old —
except ascetic
or one grown
tired and sick,
worn to bone
by pace
to hoard
in rat-race,
bowed ’neath load
— whole life spent
for its sake;
not one cent
one can take
— not one cent red
of all one makes —
when one’s dead:
useless stakes —
But truly,
now, all
things duly
considered, withal:
do you have
a preference
to scrimp and save
your pence
for the pleasure
it amounts
to — treasure
one counts
over and again,
spend
with great pain
and lend
(what?!) never!?
— or free
from fever
money —
spun:
are you such
a one?
— not putting much
stock
in what needs
key and lock
and heeds
its call
siren-like
not at all —
letting it strike
like music
on deaf ears:
that stick
not, slide clear
as water off back
of duck:
who disdains sack —
sweetless to suck
’cept when lack
pinches — fast-spent buck
you don’t give quack
for, but luck
hit anyhow
with jackpot
every now
and then got:
enough
for a while
of the stuff
— when sun smiles —
when all flows
round-rock river smooth
(’til it all goes,
forsooth)
— believe
for here and now
to live —
and how!
— so that when
to go it’s hour,
no regrets, then,
can turn it sour —
to live well
while you’re able,
and to hell
with the fable
— and of two, which
in life’s bends
vistas views — rich
dividends — ’til it ends:
to full satisfies
life’s desires
— and who, parched, dies,
in mire expires —
and who’s short-changed,
who wins lottery
— who’s deranged,
whose mind cobweb-free?


