Array ( [sid] => 183776 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Monopoly [time] => 2016-11-26 19:23:49 [hometext] => Written after feeling despair at cleaning someones clock in Monopoly, the board game. [bodytext] =>


A mortgage turned over with a lumpy throat
and small stomach of roiling revolution;
envisioned additions subtracted
with oily slick smiles
of the newly minted banker.
Oh, joyful squeals, innocent peals of children
unaware it’s all too real.

Years bring tears,
staining ink and papers,
the produce of a banker’s wiles;
cloaked, soft spoke, via pinstriped smiles.
Childhood gone, mortgaged, chained...
yet the game?,
the same, but for the loser/'/s toothless wrath
reserved for those who know the score,
(money whores)
who still chose a banker’s path.
[comments] => 5 [counter] => 532 [topic] => 21 [informant] => invierno [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Monopoly


Monopoly
Date: Saturday, 26th November 2016 @ 07:23:49 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: invierno



A mortgage turned over with a lumpy throat
and small stomach of roiling revolution;
envisioned additions subtracted
with oily slick smiles
of the newly minted banker.
Oh, joyful squeals, innocent peals of children
unaware it’s all too real.

Years bring tears,
staining ink and papers,
the produce of a banker’s wiles;
cloaked, soft spoke, via pinstriped smiles.
Childhood gone, mortgaged, chained...
yet the game?,
the same, but for the loser/'/s toothless wrath
reserved for those who know the score,
(money whores)
who still chose a banker’s path.


This poem is Copyright © invierno


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