Money….hmph..

MONEY

Material submersion, affluent lives become dwarfed by their possessions

The real tragedy in photo ops being blurred out is the actual person

When bed sheets missing love, aren’t being deputized with Gucci bags

Adjusting the screen sharpness on your TV, won’t polish an empty soul

 

This Saturation perforated by desolation is the industry’s final toll

“Homeless man owns Mercedes-Benz” bread lines should raise some red flags

The basic price tag of a soul labeled by a car’s pseudo peace symbol version

Money carved in LED hues, this version is intended for the next sick ascension

 

A specimen of status oppression, his/her clout, branded with material transgression,

Submersion then in the form of some elitist status, the gen-z chart for conversion

Being bagged in the background, a battered carcass, past behaviors left to drag

Answers generated for shallow, mean tweets and snark from anonymous internet trolls

 

The mirror shows no noble reflection, no moral or ethical goals, no one to extol,

Definitely no left one to extol, not one ounce of self-respect given to snag

Vacuity, yes vacuity, conquers the soul, self-worth feels like some sick aversion

where immersion transforms into self-loathing and apes as abhorrent aggression

 

The main question to be asked is do they, these eponymic elitists want progression?

Has their depression severed any escape for the mind or soul from perversion?

Maybe a bible dose, the King James version instead of idolizing paper price tags

A source for feeling good, something better to bag than leather bags and bankrolls.

 

Does money cater to fools, to those societal fools seeking fame without real goals

Those impetuous enough to proclaim power through materials, to such braggarts

like those who pander to vices, diminishing standards through subversion

equating happiness to physical satiation, to shrug off Atlus’s focal expression

 

-Or does money make the man who makes the car that drives to his own confession.

To accept the premise that the means, bought and paid, will suffice for one’s exertion

In the core value of it, that such success holds a special place for his nous, a righteous swag

If so, then physical specimens should never mature as an end goal, or sate the soul

 

Ambition within an arms control; the soul needs not to be tucked inside a cubbyhole

Nor does it need to take on the characteristics of an altered ego, the toil is the fated zag,

away from materialism, the cost analysis of can I afford it, to the ultimate self-assertion,

To the moral high ground, the sense of earning something, less the gratification of possession

 

Money is not used to appease some feckless mob of cancel culturists, but for natural succession

The impression given that you, your toils, your thoughts, your mind, merited some rich excursions

Then, if money offers some varied, different joy, not one to flaunt status or embellish in nametags

It should hearten the drive for success, to ferment the creative juices, and help them flow.

 

Anticipation will show in the form of the unknown, the premise of flourishment, of growth

Not in the pocket, or the bankbook, but in the soul, antiseptic notions, not setbacks

An inclusion of able-bodied, non-sheeplike vessels, to assume their goals, unlike burthens,

to eradicate that chip from their shoulders, that entitled chip, and pass forth the lesson.

 

Pride and joy are two fruits off the same tree, picked and harvested for self-expression,

This ascension of inner peace, stability, this veritable epiphany of the soul’s rebirthing,

In growth, the imperceptible synapses, and fire-cores bursting through viable flashbacks

Moments when perception and reality came hand in hand and the recognition was known

 

The soul grows in depth, in appeal, even microcosms of levity are judged and then vetoed

In the simplest things, like donation, humbleness, rejecting status as some winner’s plaque

Just living to serve as a bastion of righteous comportment, clear from avarice, unswerving,

Preserving social stature not through possession but through reserving some self-discretion.

 

Still the question remains, can physical substance make you happy? Through all this ascension,

All these cosmological phenomena, the theorem or belief in the higher power, of being deserving,

Does belief foreshadow a leaning towards an existentialist philosophy, that if God is the setback,

And this matter based atheistic approach is the solution, does money depose love, fade its glow?

 

Precepts of religious worship teach that love of God is the highest form of praise, the status quo

And that love should grow into this unwavering spectacle, counter to those materialistic maniacs

Those sidetracked by possessing possessions, in need of critique for lack of empathy, preferring

to extrapolate that someone is better because of how many nice things they have is an obsession

 

So can money make you happy? Yes it can. How long is the question? Before the joy deafens,

Before the need becomes depression, like a drug it only lends help to what is nursing,

Pain for happiness, the need for happiness, the pain overwhelms, it hurts, it begins to attack

The joy is ephemeral, savored inside, alone, too late to atone, does it become too late to forgo?

~

For more works by this author see Paul Neglia on The Creative Exiles.

You can also see more great work by Paul Neglia on HubPages.