Auckland New Zealand
As commodities go, you are harmless enough
Whether tendered in coin, or in crinkly stuff.
But, without you, it seems that the world will not turn,
Men consort with the devil, your favour to earn.
They will lie and deceive, yes, and murder as well,
And for you, more than any, damned lies they will tell.
Your repose in the hand brings a gleam to the eye
But, for want of you, many will perish and die.
Though mighty your power, and important your deed,
You’re the brother of anguish and mother of greed.
And who in this world has no grasp of your price,
But a small orphaned child with a handful of rice?
Your lure, oft the downfall of kings and princesses
Has also raised eyebrows in shops that sell dresses.
It is noteworthy ... those with most plentiful coffers
Are first in the queues for the discounted offers.
I love you, I hate you, temptation fantastic;
In form electronic on card made of plastic.
Seducer of men since time long before Caesar.
Disguised now as Mastercard, Access or Visa.
Though taught, as a child, I must work for your favour,
Adulthood revealed a much more distinct flavour.
For those who are workers, your profits are small
While you cosset with those who do nothing at all...
But ride on the backs of the wealth generators,
And call themselves agents or work motivators.
With a minimal effort they rise, then recline
As, with smooth tongues of silver, their pockets they line.
Small wonder, I think, that in biblical ages
The Good Lord himself was beset by the rages.
Thus the spell you would weave upon those trading there,
Had you banned from His temple of worship and prayer.
So you started your own, your minions are legion;
Your followers occupy every known region
Of commerce and power, our lives to control.
Yet you still have no stake... in affairs of the soul.
©2000 Rod Walford.