Thursday Poem

The Basic Con

Those who can’t find anything to live for
always want something to die for.

Then they want the rest of us to
die for it, too.

These, and an elite army of thousands,
who do nobody any good at all, but do
great harm to some,
have always collected great sums from all.

Finally, all this machinery
tries to kill us,

because we won’t die for it, too.

by Lew Welsh
from Ring of Bone—
……..  Collected Poems 1950-1971

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