Jungle
Money is One Heck of a Stimulant
Your deceit has polluted the rivers near your villages.
The very rivers that its people rely on for drinking water.
A sip of that poison ignites a plague that turns friends into foes and kin into fugitives.
But where is the antidote? Why do your people continue to fall ill?
It is locked away along with the fortune you made from the production of your deceit.
Money is one heck of a stimulant.
I’ve been away for a long time to know why I’ve been wrong before.
I had beat a dead horse and gave CPR to two that had cancer.
I should have known that it was not worth it if the doctors were not going to help treat it.
I was an ignoramus. They have all the knowledge that the world had to offer.
So why not share it with the ambitious and give new life to these once noble steeds?
Money is one heck of a stimulant.
I long reminisced about a time when the doors were open to tons of villagers with potential.
It was a world that I wanted to be a part of since I was a guppy not yet exposed to mathematics.
A potato infected by a blight and stabbed me warned me that the chief doctors were monsters.
A poor surgeon who tried repeatedly to receive a raise vanished, was slandered, and never seen again.
A coordinator found a shady message in her contract that forbade arbitration and fled to another kingdom.
And I recently heard that the one coquettish nurse was expelled over scrutiny from her personal life.
Why, Dr. Kim? Why do you egg your personnel to choose sides when there are lives that need rescuing?
Can’t we all get along and lay down our weapons? It’s easier to negotiate than to wage war, but no.
Money is one heck of a stimulant.
People lose their minds when they fall in love. It’s not just me. It’s a fact of life.
I lost mine to a mongrel who shut me out after a few months and lied directly to my face.
A good friend that I had regretfully wronged had given the doctors the deceit that tainted the rivers.
A clever herbalist that craves drama knows how to brew tainted water to make it appear crystal clear.
Not everyone knows that making up stories to sweep malpractice under the rug is a gold mine.
Money is one heck of a stimulant.
The coachman that brought me to this place can call me a whiny little boy if his mood fits.
Just like the kid who offered sage advice to the chief doctors on how to break down barriers.
But that judges the coachman's character more than mine.
It’s an fyi that looks terrible just because he’s wearing it.
But hey, why bother listening to advice that’s more expensive than one’s pride?
The doctors’ salaries are too low for them to spare a dime to make that change.
That’s why there’s never room for improvement nor for sharing in their greedy hearts.
Money is one heck of a stimulant.
I am terribly sorry that your folks never taught you that what goes around comes around.
That your hidden crimes will come back to bite you when you too become penniless.
When you one day get a taste of your own poison when you drink the river you tainted.
What does your life have in store for you afterwards? Can you sleep at night again?
Will people still care when the doctors go their separate ways? What about the pollution in the river?
I will not return to the filth you created to clean it because in the end, the deceit would be even worse.
To change your practice for the better was my greatest wish until I found out how unethical you are.
Now it is to build a fortune of my own so the artist that my heart beats for can have a bite to eat.
That is the change that you will never see because you are too comfortable smoking the dough you baked.
Money is one heck of a stimulant.
The Jungle
Eaten alive
by giant ant's
A naive exploration
into the jungle
led to this fate
Searching for the ruins
of a lost city
Only for it all to end
like this is such a pity
some things never meant to be uncovered,
are best left alone
White Man's Burden
Bring fourth ye white man’s burden
Bear arms to darkened slaves
On roads and paths and echoed laughs a new world we shall pave.
Don’t doubt the white man’s burden
It comes hither with good will.
Foot souls are sold for dark black gold beneath thee sandy hill.
Yet still when powered screens a play the devil's work is led astray
Enticing all who tread his path inviting men to walk the dark reminding
Them the eagles’ claws are sharper than an Arabs bark.
Please bear the white man’s burden
White men are shouting still
Your freedom is an inch away upon the grassy hill.
The burden is but yours to bear
The screen is fixed a gloomy stare
Ignore the red cloaked man a left
And bear the badge upon your chest
Do not for self and personal gain
Do this for land and country name
The flag will melt to black and white
If you don't fill your given right.
To slaughter all for expanding visions
To slice free will with a clean incision
Exercise plans with pristine precision
Fill ears with lies in a hope they'll listen…
You bear the White man’s burden.
Upon atrocity you pull the curtain
They know you are the serpent
And a prophecy fulfilled for certain.