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Greed loses what it has gained..

African proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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Greed and Selflessness

Greed indiscriminately penalizes,
Selflessness is the ultimate panacea; for uniting all
innocuously harmonious; for centuries immemorial and
alike….

Greed baselessly tyrannizes,
Selflessness is an Omnipotent fabric; which
irrefutably transcends you above the resplendent
heavens; to be the unequivocal favorite of the
divine….

Greed ruthlessly snatches,
Selflessness is the only road to everlasting
prosperity; coalescing even the most salaciously
treacherous with the scent of the bountifully
bestowing soil….

Greed manipulatively stagnates,
Selflessness is the most priceless core of enthralling
existence; enlightening unassailable beams of hope; in
all those dwellings miserably impoverished; without
optimism and light….

Greed horrendously massacres,
Selflessness is an Omnisciently miraculous ointment;
which heals the most bizarre wounds of the
overwhelming rich and pathetically destitute; alike…

Greed uncouthly divests,
Selflessness is a enchantingly silken flower; which
disseminates the true spirit of mankind; to even the
most infinitesimal parts; of this fathomless globe….

Greed lethally poisons,
Selflessness is a grandiloquently mesmerizing sky;
which relentlessly showers the blessings of the
Almighty; upon all philanthropically benign….

Greed pulverizes beyond recognition,
Selflessness is a unendingly radiating horizon; which
brilliantly sparkles all night and day; with the
rainbow of unconquerable righteousness….

Greed maliciously obfuscates all truth,
Selflessness is the most Omnipresent harbinger of
celestial peace; unstoppably heading towards the
paradise of scintillating success….

Greed insidiously cripples,
Selflessness is a majestically flapping bird that

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Urgent

Urgent...
To leave philosophies,
That survival is a personal need to feed.
It's urgent...
That we all now see,
Dependency on others we must all heed.
Yes it's urgent...
That a greed and gluttony be released.
So urgent...
Is the writing on the wall,
No one must ignore at all!

It's urgent...
To leave philosophies,
That survival is a personal need to feed.
It's urgent...
That we all now see,
Dependency on others we must all heed.
So urgent...
That a greed and gluttony be released,
The writing's on the wall for all to see!
The writing's on the wall for all to see!

It's urgent...
To leave philosophies,
That survival is a personal need to feed.
It's urgent...
To leave philosophies,
That survival is a personal need to feed.
So urgent...
To leave philosophies,
That survival is a personal need to feed.
And we must leave philosphies,
That survival is a personal need to feed.
While others are starving as we feed greed.
While others are starving as we feed greed.
Thinking of others is the urgency!

Urgent IS the emergency,
That we START to think of others...
And STOP our greed.

Urgent IS the emergency,
That we START to think of others...
And STOP our greed.

Urgent IS the emergency,
That we START to think of others...
And STOP our greed.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Need And The Greed

Need is a desire; greed is a desire.
Desires denied, sufferings surface.
Need is met at ease but not the greed
Which is boundless with sufferings profound.

Need and greed aren’t in water tight cells.
Need might restrict to physical wants.
Greed is for ego’s gratification.
Possessiveness is the sign of the greed.

To earn by wrongful means is from greed.
To exploit and hoard is an act of greed.
To garner and flaunt all you have is greed.
Greedless, though penny-less, you’re loveable.

To sedate the pride is to tame the greed.
To kindle the pride is to fuel the greed.
Having got money, power and possession,
As the result of greed, you will lose peace.

Remove the greed; jealousy is gone.
Remove the greed; no feeling of revenge.
Hail the poor and condemn the greedy.
Then the tendency to grow rich will wane.

Live simple; live humble; then need is less.
Be proud to own a bicycle, not a car.
Value one who owns a bicycle, not a car.
You will have saved energy and the nature.

Don’t embrace comforts, which will weaken you.
Don’t enthuse with ego, which will make loss big.
Unlike the cheat, being poor is not a shame.
Less wants; less sufferings, more happiness.

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Greed

“Greed”

GREED
IT IS SUCH A TERRIBLE THING
HEARTS IT TEARS AND MAKES THEM BLEED
AT TIMES IT BURNS SO BAD WHAT A STING
SO MUCH EVIL IT NEVER LEADS TO A GOOD DEED
GREED SUCH A VICIOUS THING

GREED
IT DESTROYS MARRIGES AND LIFES
IT DESTROYS WHAT WE WORK SO HARD TO EARN
IN CASES LEAVING MEN WITHOUT WIFES
BUT YET WE NEVER LEARN
TRUE TOO WIFES WITHOUT MEN
THE WORST PAIN UNDER THIS HAT
ARE CHILDREN THAT STAY WITH NONE OF THEM
SO UNDERSTAND WHAT A BAD BREED
THIS MONSTER IS, THIS MONSTER THAT
WE OFTEN CALL GREED

GREED
IT MAKES FREINDS INTO FOES
IT TURNS BROTHERS AGAINST BROTHERS
IT BRINGS SO MUCH WOES
IT TURNS MOTHERS AGAINST FATHERS
AND STILL WE DONT CONTROL THE NEED
AND TRY AND GET RID OF THIS BEAST
THIS BEAST WE CALL GREED

GREED
IT LEAVES FAMILIES HOMELESS
AND CHILDREN WITHOUT HOPES AND DREAMS
IT MAKES ALL FEEL LIKE SO MUCH LESS
IT BREAKS HEARTS AND MANY TEAMS
THIS TEAMS THAT AT MANY TIMES
WERE BEATIFUL AND HAPPY FAMILIES
BUT DUE TO GREED, FELL FOR THEIR CRIMES
SUCH A BAD CREATURE THAT LIKES TO FEED
ON THE HORRIBLE AND TRAGIC
FOOD WE CALL GREED.
SO PLEASE UNITE AND PRAY
THAT YOU CAN HAVE THE MAGIC
AND HOPE YOU’LL NEVER SEE THE DAY
THAT YOU BECOME THIS THING
CALLED GREED.
GOD BLESS.
MARTIN JAIME GONZALEZ

poem by Martin Gonzalez
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Greed

How much do you really want?
If you had it would it really solve your problems?
Do you realise the pain it causes
Struggling for something you may never get
How much would you sacrifice if I told you I could change your life?
You don't have to take on my advice
Don't do something that you might regret
How much do you really need?
Is it justified or is it greed?
If you satisfy your vanity
If you get to where you think you wanna go
How much is it gonna take?
Will you see it through or will you break?
Cos in the end what will you have to show?

Life can be lonely
When all you have are your possessions
Greed becomes your main obsession
Just take it slowly
If what you want ain't what you need
You've become a victim of your greed

How much do you really feel?
Can you recognise when something's real?
Do you live your life by fake ideals?
Do you think that one day you will get the chance?
What happens if you don't achieve
Will it be enough if you believe
You can just rely on destiny
Don't you know your fate is in your hands
How much is enough for you?
When you reach the top what will you do?
Will you look around for something new?
Without the destination will you carry on?
Will you try day after day
Pretend you don't hear what they say?
What would you do if all your pride was gone?

Life can be lonely
When all you have are your possessions
Greed becomes your main obsession
Just take it slowly
If what you want ain't what you need
You've become a victim of your greed

Cos material possessions ain't the world
(Ain't the world)
Nobody ever bought you happiness with diamonds or pearls
(Diamonds or pearls)
You've gotta look at this for what they really are

[...] Read more

song performed by Liberty X from Thinking It Over
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pharsalia - Book IV: Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea. Death Of Curio.

But in the distant regions of the earth
Fierce Caesar warring, though in fight he dealt
No baneful slaughter, hastened on the doom
To swift fulfillment. There on Magnus' side
Afranius and Petreius held command,
Who ruled alternate, and the rampart guard
Obeyed the standard of each chief in turn.
There with the Romans in the camp were joined
Asturians swift, and Vettons lightly armed,
And Celts who, exiled from their ancient home,
Had joined 'Iberus' to their former name.
Where the rich soil in gentle slope ascends
And forms a modest hill, Ilerda stands,
Founded in ancient days; beside her glides
Not least of western rivers, Sicoris
Of placid current, by a mighty arch
Of stone o'erspanned, which not the winter floods
Shall overwhelm. Upon a rock hard by
Was Magnus' camp; but Caesar's on a hill,
Rivalling the first; and in the midst a stream.
Here boundless plains are spread beyond the range
Of human vision; Cinga girds them in
With greedy waves; forbidden to contend
With tides of ocean; for that larger flood
Who names the land, Iberus, sweeps along
The lesser stream commingled with his own.

Guiltless of war, the first day saw the hosts
In long array confronted; standard rose
Opposing standard, numberless; yet none
Essayed attack, in shame of impious strife.
One day they gave their country and her laws.
But Caesar, when from heaven fell the night,
Drew round a hasty trench; his foremost rank
With close array concealing those who wrought.
Then with the morn he bids them seize the hill
Which parted from the camp Ilerda's walls,
And gave them safety. But in fear and shame
On rushed the foe and seized the vantage ground,
First in the onset. From the height they held
Their hopes of conquest; but to Caesar's men
Their hearts by courage stirred, and their good swords
Promised the victory. Burdened up the ridge
The soldier climbed, and from the opposing steep
But for his comrade's shield had fallen back;
None had the space to hurl the quivering lance
Upon the foeman: spear and pike made sure
The failing foothold, and the falchion's edge
Hewed out their upward path. But Caesar saw
Ruin impending, and he bade his horse

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poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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III. The Other Half-Rome

Another day that finds her living yet,
Little Pompilia, with the patient brow
And lamentable smile on those poor lips,
And, under the white hospital-array,
A flower-like body, to frighten at a bruise
You'd think, yet now, stabbed through and through again,
Alive i' the ruins. 'T is a miracle.
It seems that, when her husband struck her first,
She prayed Madonna just that she might live
So long as to confess and be absolved;
And whether it was that, all her sad life long
Never before successful in a prayer,
This prayer rose with authority too dread,—
Or whether, because earth was hell to her,
By compensation, when the blackness broke
She got one glimpse of quiet and the cool blue,
To show her for a moment such things were,—
Or else,—as the Augustinian Brother thinks,
The friar who took confession from her lip,—
When a probationary soul that moved
From nobleness to nobleness, as she,
Over the rough way of the world, succumbs,
Bloodies its last thorn with unflinching foot,
The angels love to do their work betimes,
Staunch some wounds here nor leave so much for God.
Who knows? However it be, confessed, absolved,
She lies, with overplus of life beside
To speak and right herself from first to last,
Right the friend also, lamb-pure, lion-brave,
Care for the boy's concerns, to save the son
From the sire, her two-weeks' infant orphaned thus,
And—with best smile of all reserved for him—
Pardon that sire and husband from the heart.
A miracle, so tell your Molinists!

There she lies in the long white lazar-house.
Rome has besieged, these two days, never doubt,
Saint Anna's where she waits her death, to hear
Though but the chink o' the bell, turn o' the hinge
When the reluctant wicket opes at last,
Lets in, on now this and now that pretence,
Too many by half,—complain the men of art,—
For a patient in such plight. The lawyers first
Paid the due visit—justice must be done;
They took her witness, why the murder was.
Then the priests followed properly,—a soul
To shrive; 't was Brother Celestine's own right,
The same who noises thus her gifts abroad.
But many more, who found they were old friends,
Pushed in to have their stare and take their talk

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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He who loses wealth loses much; he who loses a friend loses more; but he that loses his courage loses all.

classic quote by Miguel de Cervantes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ivy Leaguers Who Cheat

Ivy leaguers who cheat,
To increase their chances of feeding greed...
May deceive,
But...
Don't they reflect a society,
Promoting feasting greed?

Integrity...?
Where is at?
And honesty...?
Where is it at?
Respect has gone.
And that's a fact.
Thieving is on!
And...
Taught when one is born.

Integrity...?
Where is at?
And honesty...?
Where is it at?
Respect has gone.
And that's a fact.
Thieving is on!
And...
Taught when one is born.

Ivy leaguers who cheat,
To increase their chances of feeding greed...
May deceive,
But...
Don't they reflect a society,
Promoting feasting greed?

Thieving is on!
And...
Taught when one is born.

Ivy leaguers who cheat...
Are honored and promoted to feed greed.
This is success for those who seek the best.
No matter if a quality of life...
Bleeds.

Ivy leaguers who cheat...
Are honored and promoted to feed greed.
This is success for those who seek the best.
No matter if a quality of life...
Bleeds.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

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poem by Robert Browning (1871)
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The Golden Age

Long ere the Muse the strenuous chords had swept,
And the first lay as yet in silence slept,
A Time there was which since has stirred the lyre
To notes of wail and accents warm with fire;
Moved the soft Mantuan to his silvery strain,
And him who sobbed in pentametric pain;
To which the World, waxed desolate and old,
Fondly reverts, and calls the Age of Gold.

Then, without toil, by vale and mountain side,
Men found their few and simple wants supplied;
Plenty, like dew, dropped subtle from the air,
And Earth's fair gifts rose prodigal as prayer.
Love, with no charms except its own to lure,
Was swiftly answered by a love as pure.
No need for wealth; each glittering fruit and flower,
Each star, each streamlet, made the maiden's dower.
Far in the future lurked maternal throes,
And children blossomed painless as the rose.
No harrowing question `why,' no torturing `how,'
Bent the lithe frame or knit the youthful brow.
The growing mind had naught to seek or shun;
Like the plump fig it ripened in the sun.
From dawn to dark Man's life was steeped in joy,
And the gray sire was happy as the boy.
Nature with Man yet waged no troublous strife,
And Death was almost easier than Life.
Safe on its native mountains throve the oak,
Nor ever groaned 'neath greed's relentless stroke.
No fear of loss, no restlessness for more,
Drove the poor mariner from shore to shore.
No distant mines, by penury divined,
Made him the sport of fickle wave or wind.
Rich for secure, he checked each wish to roam,
And hugged the safe felicity of home.

Those days are long gone by; but who shall say
Why, like a dream, passed Saturn's Reign away?
Over its rise, its ruin, hangs a veil,
And naught remains except a Golden Tale.
Whether 'twas sin or hazard that dissolved
That happy scheme by kindly Gods evolved;
Whether Man fell by lucklessness or pride,-
Let jarring sects, and not the Muse, decide.
But when that cruel Fiat smote the earth,
Primeval Joy was poisoned at its birth.
In sorrow stole the infant from the womb,
The agëd crept in sorrow to the tomb.
The ground, so bounteous once, refused to bear
More than was wrung by sower, seed, and share.

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poem by Alfred Austin
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My Petty Greed

People with petty greed ~ how much do they get
Not all people have big-sized greeds
We very ordinary
bunch of people with petty greed
Don't even have courage to feel big-sized greed

My petty greed has often been met
by petty donors
Twice or so I was saved
by the God on my shelf
After safe escape I gave a smirk

Indulged a bit in intellectual conceit Ah
Escaped narrowly honour is saved
Yet my petty greed was not quenched
Even now I make rounds to petty donors
Ah they too are small-time people
They too live within limits
How can they give their all
Even if they give do I have the guts
to pull all up to the roots.

Can people with petty greed geta full amount
Very ordinary person I
pulled by petty greed
Ever go round and round
Come back home take bath daily
Light the lamp on my shelf
God keep saving me
Very ordinary person, me
haven't even got the courage
to feel big-sized greed.

___ ___________
amar chinchke lov
tr: rajlukshmee debee

poem by Choudhuri Sukumar
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My losses,

My loses,
My loses was with a call,
My losses was with a message,
My loses was with a man,
My loses came from them,
I made my loss that I was losing it,
Grab I to take away,
Losses that are so Dynamic,
My loss,
This is the loss that upon this soul,
My loses that I made it,
Loss it,
Iam losing that I may win,
Losing is the tight game,
Lose that is upon this soul,
Lose that I need to gain in profit,
Losers will fail,
Lose that I may win,
This is the calling of the lose,
That I may benefit,
Let me lose that I may win.

poem by Maxim Muyu
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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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Pharsalia - Book IX: Cato

Yet in those ashes on the Pharian shore,
In that small heap of dust, was not confined
So great a shade; but from the limbs half burnt
And narrow cell sprang forth and sought the sky
Where dwells the Thunderer. Black the space of air
Upreaching to the poles that bear on high
The constellations in their nightly round;
There 'twixt the orbit of the moon and earth
Abide those lofty spirits, half divine,
Who by their blameless lives and fire of soul
Are fit to tolerate the pure expanse
That bounds the lower ether: there shall dwell,
Where nor the monument encased in gold,
Nor richest incense, shall suffice to bring
The buried dead, in union with the spheres,
Pompeius' spirit. When with heavenly light
His soul was filled, first on the wandering stars
And fixed orbs he bent his wondering gaze;
Then saw what darkness veils our earthly day
And scorned the insults heaped upon his corse.
Next o'er Emathian plains he winged his flight,
And ruthless Caesar's standards, and the fleet
Tossed on the deep: in Brutus' blameless breast
Tarried awhile, and roused his angered soul
To reap the vengeance; last possessed the mind
Of haughty Cato.

He while yet the scales
Were poised and balanced, nor the war had given
The world its master, hating both the chiefs,
Had followed Magnus for the Senate's cause
And for his country: since Pharsalia's field
Ran red with carnage, now was all his heart
Bound to Pompeius. Rome in him received
Her guardian; a people's trembling limbs
He cherished with new hope and weapons gave
Back to the craven hands that cast them forth.
Nor yet for empire did he wage the war
Nor fearing slavery: nor in arms achieved
Aught for himself: freedom, since Magnus fell,
The aim of all his host. And lest the foe
In rapid course triumphant should collect
His scattered bands, he sought Corcyra's gulfs
Concealed, and thence in ships unnumbered bore
The fragments of the ruin wrought in Thrace.
Who in such mighty armament had thought
A routed army sailed upon the main
Thronging the sea with keels? Round Malea's cape
And Taenarus open to the shades below
And fair Cythera's isle, th' advancing fleet

[...] Read more

poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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Wallow in the Greed

If you could know how much I earn,
I'm sure to see you blush!
To earn the stipend that I do
Will mean therefore, I look at you
From high above in my success
And say to you, 'Poor thing, God bless.'

The greedy bastard that I am –
I love to drown in bling!
Unlike you – so bloody poor, and
Picking coins up off the floor!
But sorry mate, I'm not to blame –
The fact your bank account is lame!

Come and see my flashy car,
Awash inside with leather –
I saw the battered wreck you drive,
Spewing out its oily smog!
Your banger, friend, is such a dog –
Clanking out its dialogue.

I shall die in gleaming wealth,
Floating out in gentle stealth –
Having bought an excellent health.
As for you, my hard-up mate,
You'll fade away a slave to fate,
Surviving on the welfare state.

Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009

Greed, greed, greed, greed
Greed, greed, feed the greed.

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Who loses his honor loses a lot, who loses his faith, loses everything.

Sicilian proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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Free Xone

Free. . .
Next song?
Hahahahaha
Ohhhh boy
Mama Yoke
That used to be my nickname

He was on a airplane
Sittin next to this guy
Said he wasn't too shy
And he seemed real nice
Until he found out he was gay
That's so not mellow

Let's get free. . .

Let's get free
Let's get free
Now make it mellow
Now make it mellow

Freestyle
Xone 1
Boy meets boy
Boy loses boy
Boy gets cute boy back

Girl meets girl
Girl loses girl
Girl gets cute girl back

One rule
No rules
One love
Freexone
Let's get free. . .

Let's get free
Let's get free
Now make it mellow
Now make it mellow

Freestyle
Xone 2

Boy meets girl
Boy loses girl
Boy gets cute girl back

Girl meets boy

[...] Read more

song performed by Janet Jackson from The Velvet Rope
Added by Lucian Velea
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Greed

Where there is a need
There is always greed
A rotten exploiting deed
That manifests with speed

When there are mouths to feed
Read between the lines and take heed!
Lurking around is an Inspiring greed
Ready to take advantage and proceed

Even when there is no need to succeed
By now it is agreed, there is always greed
Our desire for more always exceeds our needs
Hence wealth, power and greed have always been married

We always want more
Sometimes I don't know what for
I read to understand what generation of breed
Has given birth to this senseless weed
Because life is a circle of endless greed

I urgently need to know, I plead
Who planted this seed of greed to deliberately mislead?

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Greed is Good

“Greed is good! ” they say
Some say “Greed is great! ”
Will they say that when the masses
Are bashing down their gate?
Will they still pray to their god ‘Greed’
When they find that it’s too late?

All the starving children
They don’t think greed is good
They would rather have each day
A sufficiency of food

All the freezing homeless
How great is greed to those?
A bit of tin to shelter in
Would please them (I suppose)

What good is greed to anyone
When it is served with hate?
I’d rather have a shred of humanity
Sitting on my plate

poem by Neil Milliner
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