Their Last Resorts.
Updated on October 22, 2009
Their Last Resorts.
©-MFB III
Envy not the rich and idle
soon enough many of
their stock markets,
will become cattle calls
under the prod of demons.
Their pampered flesh
like ticker tape,
branded black and red
as they are spit out into
the gaping bowels of hell.
Not men who were often
charitable and graced mankind
with wealth's blessings passed down,
but those greed infested
aristocrats who made
money their god, and
worshipped the fatted calf.
Those slave-masters of
minimum wage laborers.
Those addicted to success,
abandoning their families
in the pursuit of more capital,
trod-ding on the backs
of the underlings as they
scrabbled to the top.
They shall know the opposite
after their fine lives expire,
They will dwell in abject
poverty in hovels of horror.
Forever tormented,
craving the simpler things,
like the scent of a flower,
too often passed by.
The sweet smile of a son,
long neglected,
a lazy Sunday morning
spent with the wife,
rather than on a jet
to a meeting.
They will take
stock in regret,
and liquidate their
sorrows in tears.
"It is easier for a camel
to get through the eye of a needle
than for a rich man to get into heaven." (New Testament -verse # unknown)
