(Poorly) Self-Made Men

Cookies from a cutter, all the
Self-made men have gathered here
In polo shirts and uncuffed slacks.
Their eighty-hour weeks of grubbing
After money make them dull.
They had no time to go to school.
They never read a book for fun
Or looked at paintings in museums,
Never thought to ask the thieves
And layabouts who they've
Employed if they receive enough
To live. It doesn't matter. All that
Does is that the money coming in
Is greater than that going out,
And, toward that end, the government,
And all its god-damned regulations,
Must be met and turned away.
Who cares if someone's hurt at
Work? Each only has himself
To blame. Who cares if products
Are not safe? The buyer should
Beware, you know, and how much
Difference does it make if sludge
Of some sort oozes into water
That somebody drinks? Come on;
This is America, and profit is its
Middle name. The self-made men,
So much alike, as one, declare it so.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 44 times
Written on 2014-01-15 at 01:05

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