When I Am Broke I Write a Poem
When I am broke
I write a poem
I make myself the hero
In my poem, nobody can stop me
Out, I hop from my S-Class Benz
Into my waiting Lamborgini to my private airstrip
That car is sleek and comfy, one in a million
My chopper I enter and chop off to Brazil
To breathe the Amazon forest
Lunch I take in Dubai, at the Burj Al Arab
Get my favorite classique and Nouvelle Cuisine
Then float on the sea with petals of belly dancers
Then I fly to France for Dessert. Park Hyatt is the Place
Where light is tuned to my eye, the spoon is customized
To match the length of my fingers
I Meet Paul Bocuse, the father of culinary Art
And eat his delicious hand
When I swallow I hear the chime in sync
Then my order in Lilac Geneva. Le Richmond is rich
I ask for Chateau Cheval Blanc. That wine is fine
I take a nap at the Palms. In Las Vegas
Where the massage is complete
Each broke nerve is touched
Silently restored
In my poem
I summon the president, the chancellor
The Prime Minister and the Speaker of Parliament
The Chief Justice, the Queen and King, the General
The Emperor, Field Marshal and Archbishop
They run and bow and panic and look away
I ask them to sing me lullaby and ensure my security is tight
someone salutes
someone smiles
someone trembles
someone nods
someone freezes
But they all understand
They consult as I slumber in my epic bed
Where I am the hero
Today
Down the street a merchant to Church
Who worked all day
Has given me a note, the part of his tithe
God bless him
A packet of milk, it can buy a cookie
Oh how rich I am
Today
No time for poetry, I am rich again
When I am broke I write a poem
Like this!
Copyright © Peter Onyancha | Year Posted 2020
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