Sonnet For Everyday People
by Steven Abel

The business world, it sits atop its throne
And all those left in holes below look up
With callused hands and feet scraped down to bone
They envy those who drink from Greed's Gold Cup
Please recognize what businessmen produce
In minds of men, they craft want into need
And still we all hold on to this abuse
Despite the Wars for Oil that they let bleed
I'm not a demographic; I am real
I feel for farmer's crops and doctor's drugs
While homeless women pray for their next meal
A businessman decides on Persian rugs
We idolize the rich and their champagne
And find the miracles of life mundane


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Poem Copyright © 2007 by Steven Abel

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