spilledwoords
– Spilling everyday experiences with words –
The Gospel…
Happy are you o man, who finds me
Your paths of inquiry into my abode not withstanding
For I answer everything you call me
Have done so with no iota of my wits bending.
Happy you are if you house me in your room
I am money, I can fit anywhere
People say I’m mean, I can be your doom
Never mind, just choose much of me for your heart’s share.
O man! Who calls me evil or its root,
What can you achieve if I fail to exist?
Some argue it’s my love not me (do I give a hoot?)
That misleads – yet in that love they persist.
I, money, I’m a lot larger than all but life
I care a lot for those who spread me a red carpet
As in a pageant and welcome me with a high five
He whom I grant access, only him can my graces get.
Happy are you o man, o woman! Who in honesty
Pursues me head-on; you’ll soon discover my sting
I get farther away – my acquisition a rarity
If you chase me from my rears track.
Never assume you can stare me out in a contest,
Of who would back down first in terms of need.
You require me more; from East to West
North to South – all bow to my lead.
Happy you are if on my own I come to you
Not from old money or from dire struggle
But I just strolling to or galloping to you who,
Never expecting me, engaged in no fiscal battle.
Woe to you who lose sleep over me
Counting and subtracting to make my many parts meet
Like parallel lines I roam free.
So in forcing me, you’ll yourself beat.
I am MONEY, I am a KING
I am a food type, I make people hungry
Yet no one can eat me, they can but sing
Of my praises in gold, jewels, luxuries that leave others angry.
Happy are you if you get me with no bother
And keep me outside your heart
Then you’d live a life and not murder
Sleep like Macbeth when he took the King’s heart.
©Ndidi Ugo-Nkwoala, 2020
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