He who pays the piper calls the Tune

The earth requires it there. The poets do not like the lyrics. As the tsunami approaches the lands The poem integrates without a solution. As the summit talks upheld information Global warming, tariff continues debating: China not backing down, and we, the poets Surprisingly asking what’s next? A poem like this doesn’t comprehend That earth requires it there, Make it make sense, this Tariff war About percentages, or principles of humanity Make it make sense, make it a kind world Make it turn water into red wine, Make them say, “We are for the small people, And not the profit holder’s fat wallets, Make the world spin like a Bitcoin machine: The more money there goes a burden of responsibilities there: He who pay the Pied piper call the tunes: ,