Listen to poem:
The Profit
He wears a woolen hat as his halo
A multi coloured sleeping bag his coat.
He sits upon a concrete throne
Staring up at passing folk.
Yet his cloak of poverty hides him clearly from their view.
While others see him as something
they have picked up on their shoe.
But he’s a real person,Just like you and me
he as great knowledge from his teachers,Of what history as to teach.
yet lacks the killer instinct
as profit is all that really counts
and success is only measured
by what money in your wallet,and not the goodness in your soul.
Could that man sat on the pavement
with an heart that’s truly pure
be the only prophet this world
should be looking for.
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