POEM: The Running Joke


I pity the man who thinks life revolves around money
I pity the woman who thinks life revolves around sex
For neither can amount to anything unless there is a degree of meaning involved
And where do we find that meaning?
Is there something profound that we all seem to miss while sifting through the wrong selections?
We’re taught that money rules
We’re shown that sex controls
And we have no reason not to believe
All the signs are pointing there
All the evidence leads us there
And so we exist;
Mounting and spending and fornicating and money making
If we don’t get what we want we cut someone else off
If we don’t get promoted we make the next likely candidate’s life a living hell
If we lose a bet we are bitter
We are a selfish, crude and arrogant race, men,
And we have made the world what it is;
A running joke,
A monument to our own narcissism
And I suspect the only one who isn’t laughing
 is God

 © Dean R Boic 2015


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