Kurt Philip Behm Poet Rhyme

Traitorous Fortune

Unlocking the vault
invested with pain

Its riches long stolen
all value is stained

Each bill tells a story
of wantonness greed 

With truth sold for dollars
whose printing now bleeds

Locked up in a winter
of coldness and fear

A traitorous fortune
of all you hold dear

Its smell tells a story
the mold growing thick

Corruption inherent
the air makes you sick

Bereft you can’t spend
what you coveted so

Before the interment
when sinking so low

The cash becomes toxic  
it falls from your hands

Its value infected
—insolvent and damned

(Dreamsleep: June, 2023)

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David Mchattie June 10, 2023 at 8:59 AM You can never print too much money... not that's its worth anything. It will be interesting to see how this all plays out. May we live in interesting times... and we do. Have a great day my friend. Kurt Philip Behm June 10, 2023 at 10:17 AM Thanks David