The smell of money was flushed.

The smell of money was flushed.

A Poem by andrew mitchell

Fields of incentives
covered in green,
the taste of money
lies in exuberance
on tables laid,
while currency smokes
above the rooftops,
below the warmth
of success wraps
around like gluttony
as the cries scream out
what’s for dessert!

© 2018 andrew mitchell


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Added on August 13, 2018
Last Updated on August 13, 2018

Author

andrew mitchell
andrew mitchell

adelaide, Australia



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Strindberg said. " When I come home and sit at my writing table, then I live.... I live, and I live in manifold fashion of all human beings. I depict; I am glad with the glad, wicked with the wicked,.. more..

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