Poetic-Verses
'' From Conscience They Are Devoid ''
There'll be no interruption,
No cause for disruption,
Tell me what's wrong with a fiddle,
The Human Race is filled with corruption,
Not to we see as a riddle.
Religions make money,
Politicians find it funny,
That we question the fact they're all bent,
They claim their lives were meant to be sunny,
Their gods help the thieves to repent.
Don't let it derange,
The secrets they exchange,
They need to in order to survive,
There is nothing that is out of their range,
Including you no longer being alive.
You can be sure,
There'll be no cure,
It's a terminal illness is greed,
So much so they steal from the poor,
Despite the fact they've no need.
You mustn't fret,
But the more they get,
Means it is never enough,
We are responsible for their bad debt,
To their creditors they just say, tough.
Though it isn't fair,
For us they don't care,
Despite the fact we make them wealthy,
Humility among them is extremely rare,
Their bank accounts must remain healthy.
While you're on low pay,
We get our own way,
Already we can hear your sad sighs,
On what we get you don't have a say,
Thank you for our ten per cent rise.
Be it tax or donations,
They make false declarations,
Cross them and you'll be destroyed,
We who fund them are but poor relations,
' From Conscience They Are Devoid '
No cause for disruption,
Tell me what's wrong with a fiddle,
The Human Race is filled with corruption,
Not to we see as a riddle.
Religions make money,
Politicians find it funny,
That we question the fact they're all bent,
They claim their lives were meant to be sunny,
Their gods help the thieves to repent.
Don't let it derange,
The secrets they exchange,
They need to in order to survive,
There is nothing that is out of their range,
Including you no longer being alive.
You can be sure,
There'll be no cure,
It's a terminal illness is greed,
So much so they steal from the poor,
Despite the fact they've no need.
You mustn't fret,
But the more they get,
Means it is never enough,
We are responsible for their bad debt,
To their creditors they just say, tough.
Though it isn't fair,
For us they don't care,
Despite the fact we make them wealthy,
Humility among them is extremely rare,
Their bank accounts must remain healthy.
While you're on low pay,
We get our own way,
Already we can hear your sad sighs,
On what we get you don't have a say,
Thank you for our ten per cent rise.
Be it tax or donations,
They make false declarations,
Cross them and you'll be destroyed,
We who fund them are but poor relations,
' From Conscience They Are Devoid '
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
`` From Conscience They Are Devoid ``
`` From Conscience They Are Devoid ``
