Member Poem

O how prevalent,
A tip, a soda incognito,
A generous holler to a yawning heart,
Eating to the core of the gentle;
Filling guilt the bosom of the noble;
At public gates, winking at the innocents:
A requisite for an office chair,
For a sound health,
For a smile;
In quiescent rhythms, multiplying,
In addition
To subtraction of justice,
Dividing the nation into stinking wealth,
Into poverty unrelenting
A sickly nation!