Death By Poverty Death by poverty comes to those who wait hopefully. Praying for salvation from the trappings of fictions. Slipping through the floor boards of society. Bottom. He was lovely, we really loved him, wicked smart, the Kindest, nicest of anyone we knew. What do they say, Nice guys finish last. His wife took him for everything. She was a horrible person. She was my mother. Now Just think of him as already gone. Gone, Forever As a child scribbles on the walls creating fauvist art, Poetry, the lanolin of the flock may win awards but It certainly will not work to fill the tank of our combine Harvesters. The richest spirits have the poorest purse Needing nobody to make them happy, smiling all who Helplessly slip into obscurity and fall into chaise Of palliative resistance. Who without words, aphasic Lost. Forgotten. The beautiful spirits who detached From the game of material acquisition pursing truth Justice. Art that others can appreciate but they've no Reason to recompense. This beautiful, pure, soul Uncorrupted By prosperity and fame. Success measured only by The process. Like delusion. The fantasy world meant Only to distract the wildly blithe with hopeful sharing Their contentment for the wisdom their spirits caught Much by accident. Much by the same mechanism that Placed the cracks in the boards of society and called For the noble, the humble, the generous and the wise To fall through. Do you remember that guy? Sure. He Was so bright. He was our savior. Questioning still Does anyone care For the mercies of the weakest members of this ill Conceived messy patchwork of intentions muting any Who would care for our victims. Caring for the weakest Members of society is the distinguishing phenomenon That sends those running for the door into momentary Pause. They breed animals for the sole purpose they Say, of Profit. The weakest members of society are the The ones so poor, they are not entitled to ownership of Their own bodies. While crying for the savior, and the Survivor, did you forget that the victims were the lives So disregarded that you do not cherish their descent Into mud. You simply call them food.