Refuse

How the poor living In squalor Never have to be annoyed At blinking malfunctions, Last year’s drapes, And a car without real leather. How money makes The rich want more For they fear that they Will be short In raising clones That want them dead. Last year’s craze Will get replaced And thrown down to The smiling faces That will laugh and cry That they got for free What the rich slaved for.

menoh

I am a button pusher. I stir up trouble. It is what I do. I live in the borders between light and dark. I can write about beautiful things, and joy and love, but I find I am more creative when i write about the dark. I love to hold a mirror up to the...

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