There is nothing <br />left to share, for anyone. Ah, <br />the noble disgrace <br />of gluttony. <br />Three times third-world peoples die, <br />hungry and naked and afraid. <br />While the civilized <br />throw steaks to the dogs, and eat <br />the tables and chairs <br />the gold candleabras, and all <br />the servents wages. <br />What folly finds us moderns fat <br />and fearless? <br />Arise from the velvet couches of comfort. <br />The coming winter shall be <br />a bitterly cold one... <br />all hands on deck! <br />if any expect to survive. <br /> <br />The golden-goose is cooked, stuffed and <br />waiting, <br />if there be even one candle left, light it, <br />so everyone can fully see; <br />carve the beast <br />and share with all, in this <br />the world's final feast.<br /><br />Smoky Hoss<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-final-feast/
