Tarnished Gold

by IRENE FOWLER, Contributor

“Don’t gain the world and lose your soul; wisdom is better than silver and gold.”
– Bob Marley

“A golden statue of a wicked man, is worth less than a mud statue of a man with a heart of gold.” – Mehmet Murat ildan

“True gold fears no fire.”
– Chinese Proverb

To read Irene’s new poem “Tarnished Gold” click:



Tarnished Gold

by Irene Fowler

Sagas, myths and lessons, are as aged, as creation of old
The inordinate human penchant and lust for gold
Glimmering, glittering glistening, glowing and prized
Bewitching, numbing the conscience and blinding the eye.

**

Multitudes sell their eternal, priceless, precious souls
Hapless legions forced into savage resource- wars, untold
Myriad others, worship at the altar of their golden calves
Fellow-travellers on a dehumanising trail that mocks, corrupts, and starves.

**

Depraved, thuggish, political leaders shamelessly strut, pimp their stuff
Not unlike down-and-out, street corner prostitutes, in the grime and rough
The public figures forgo any vestiges of morality, honesty and decency
For power, renown, and golden paper-currency.

**

‘Plate sin with gold and the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks,’ sayeth Shakespeare
Ergo, law and order is ridiculed, scorned and made unclear
‘Arm it in rags, a pigmy’s straw does pierce it,’ declares Avon’s scion and sonneteer
Hence, uneven and weighted brass scales, favour gold-plated buccaneers.

**

Noisome propagandists prepare bile-filled golden chalices
Every droplet a toxic mix and brew of lies, hate, and malice
Poisonous, dangerous, divisive, doctrines, spewed from gold megaphones
Fomenting chaos from beneath golden parachutes, and vicious attack drones.

**

Leaden minds and thoughts; to the betterment of humanity; dumb, deaf and blind
Forsooth, earthly gold will by and by, turn musty and gather rust
Albeit, hearts of gold, with love towards mankind, will forever be alive
Tried, tested and the truly golden ones, alone, can ensure our species and planet survives.

**


© 2022 by Irene Fowler

About wordcloud9

Nona Blyth Cloud has lived and worked in the Los Angeles area for the past 50 years, spending much of that time commuting on the 405 Freeway. After Hollywood failed to appreciate her genius for acting and directing, she began a second career managing non-profits, from which she has retired. Nona has now resumed writing whatever comes into her head, instead of reports and pleas for funding. She lives in a small house overrun by books with her wonderful husband.
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