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Money

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The refined condensation of man's desire The great maker of kings All problems come to succumb The search stays eternal Scarce in unequal distribution The mother of war seduces all making kings of mortal men She breaks the lineal tree Transformed into savage monsters humility dies on the road The end justifies the root Conscience is a small price Money begets all wrongs mere paper becomes an idol After opens to vanity Man reduces to a slave
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Shooting star

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I saw a shooting star white, sparkly and fiery burning its way across the night sky I made a silent wish a whisper, a silent prayer I wished I would fly to the ends of what is known  to kiss the moon and touch the stars alas it was just a wish nothing more than a silent prayer Ashen on the cold stone altar of quiet gods, buried temples it was nothing but a silent prayer  for that same shooting star  bright and glorious above came crashing, splintered, broken to the cold cold earth.      --Henry Akuete          (The Undying Poet)
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