Please Tip Your Waiter

Money licks its lips 
A fervour without bound it rips
Feeding on the rich with etiquette and poise
The middle classes swallowed with grumbled noise
And screaming poor not even savoured
From a beast thats never laboured
The earth lays daily a new tablecloth
For the feast where all humanity is lost
Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

Poem

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Wodarz Avatar
May 13, 2018 at 6:37 PM
Great poem Christopher. I love the metaphors and the figurative language. Nicely done. -Paulina
Quigley Avatar
May 15, 2018 at 11:25 AM
Thank you
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