MajorMalfunction | CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Penny Pinch

Clock’s
tick-tock
slowly passes,
while flaccid asses
on edge sit,
empty of wit
to realize
that their eyes
conjure visions
of millions
they wouldn’t know
the score
of, without clue
of what to do
with, which would spell
descent into hell
— when they cannot
with their present lot
be content,
God or sod-sent
treasure
is mere measure
of their fall —
loss of all
— treacherous,
over-precious
to those
whose
burning greed
is a need
that never will
be fulfilled:
the more they get,
the more they covet;
money make
for its own sake;
paupers who value
not a sou —
When
men
penny-foolish
wish
for pounds
they are bound
life to spend
at dead-end.