Wealth doesn’t seem to rub off
Or trickle down, or whatever.
Instead it relies on stealth and lies
To sucker in lots of help,
Unbeknownst to the miserable many,
Who work long hours, dreaming
Of plenty but seeing none
Of the fruits of their labor
Cross over the fence
To their bank account.
No, it stays at the top
With the privileged few,
Who rally the troops
When the going gets rough,
But leave them to starve
After the work is done.
So, don’t put all your
Proverbial eggs in one basket,
Or you’ll be broke long before
They pick out your casket.
Stumbling along the sidewalk 