One man’s opulence another
Might consider tacky,
Especially when catered to
By every spineless lackey.
Yet those who rake in riches
As their empire’s being built
Should, if empathy at all exists,
Feel just a little guilt.
So many struggle just to live
While barely getting by;
Still, we hear of millions being spent
By those who rule on high.
A little gilt can be too much
And for a would-be king,
A little guilt, at least, should come
From those who kiss his ring.
Who am I?
Five Haiku
Who are you?
NANA AFRICA
Hearts At Odds
Gingerbread Men
Carry Us Home
Welcome Back
Gilty
Had it up to here
Black coffee
Open all night
Coffee
A Feast for the Welcome
Dog's Day Out
life is a leaf that blows on the breeze
Constipation hell worse than perdition
Wash Away The Grey
The penthouse of Donald J. Trump
Has pillows quite plump for your rump
But it’s filled to the hilt
With the wrong type of gilt
Which is why I’ve been stuck in a slump.
If the guilt I’d prefer were displayed
Then I wouldn’t feel quite so betrayed
But the sparkle of gold
Even fake, I am told,
Is sufficient, at times, to persuade.
In the White House, perhaps we’ll be graced
With some glitz in Melania’s taste
And there’ll be no debate
Once America’s great
All that gilt will be warmly embraced.
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