The Greedy
We have built a world—
Not for the need,
But for the greedy.
Palaces boast of fifty rooms
Where no soul sleeps.
Garages gleam with a thousand idle chariots,
While the homeless pray to wind and pavement.
One man holds
A thousand acres of land,
While millions kneel
With no soil to claim as home.
Step into the White Halls of Power—
Leaders dine in gold,
While the governed die in rags.
Do not lecture me on capitalism.
Do not seduce me with socialism.
No system survives
When fed by the hunger of greed.
In the West,
The poor bleed for the rich.
And the rich—
They only bleed for themselves.
For us, the poor,
Life is not a journey.
It is a sentence—
A maximum-security prison
Called Earth.
The billionaire thief walks free.
But the hungry man who steals a sweet?
The law devours him.
And you call this justice?
Even now, on dating apps,
On poetry platforms,
On every glowing screen—
“Premium Subscribers”
Is the new deity.
It’s no longer about love,
Or passion,
Or talent.
It is about price.
It is about profit.
Money has replaced meaning.
It dictates.
It directs.
It decides.
Only the greedy shall survive.
So tell me:
In a world so rich,
Why are there so few rich?
And you—
You who call yourselves civilized—
You elect thieves and murderers,
And expect to build Eden?
Fools!
A greedy pig eats even its own children.
Not out of anger—
But out of greed.
This…
Is the world we have created.
Copyright © Chanda Katonga | Year Posted 2025
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