I wrote this poem after listening to "Money" by Pink Floyd, which I had not heard in a while.
The two make a nice pairing, so if you have the opportunity, I suggest listening to the song before reading the poem, or perhaps visa versa.
Power money is a muddied green,
oozing through the electronic screen,
rarely seen, always leaning,
pumping the consumer machine.
Power money is caviar on the tongue,
salt of greed, speed, seed of desire.
Power money is Wall Street noise,
the breathing of boys in labor,
spawning more, spewing war,
gun whore, environmental open sore.
Power money is high tech tease,
social disease, fees, the legalese
of fragmentation and decay,
chemical charisma and the corporate lay.
Power money is grown by the underfed,
bread-less, said-less flunkies;
consumed by the overfed,
Journal-read, highly-ed, Fed-Ex junkies.
Power money makes
and everyone lust.
Whose illusions feed
this shallow trust fund?