Poem which hates on rich people, who spend lots of money and say they’re not materialistic
Cubicle lives, like bees in a hive,
There are some who deny the truth,
And some who access it just to survive,
Travelers and nomads,
With their long dreaded hippy hair,
They’re not so different, I’ll swear on it whole,
For those are the ones who try to run from the lair,
To run away from nature’s soul.
They say time is their friend, but time agrees not,
They lie in hammocks and smoke natural pot,
“You just gotta chill, you’re just a follower of the system”,
Well you don’t systemize when you’re high, you’re eyes just pop and seem to glisten,
Am I a follower, because I have a job?
Or are you just a washed up lost boy, who used to be an Eton snob?
by Paul Gracey, 17, Westerford High School, Cape Town, South Africa