Lennon Jesus Or Warhol….

Crabs run to the side we know
hard to catch their slimy shells.
While sheiks have halved the flow,
from their cities built on wells.

An oases for the few, even though,
they need us bred, us worker Ants.
Daily the oil demand seems to grow,
creating poison in our plotted plants.

We suck from the breast of mother earth,
creating new nipples as we command.
Now this is how we measure our worth,
when choosing heroes just like a brand.

Alcohols kept nice and low,
is it medication or sedation.
Ever saw a drunk weep with woe,
seeing his own peoples deprivation.

Does this poem have a moral,
can’t begin to wonder why.
Was it Lennon, Jesus or Warhol,
who kept on adding to their lie.

Don’t ask me for any good reason,
follow first what’s in your head.
Just don’t let them put a squeeze on,
you’ll regret it, until you’re dead.

Getting back to those slimy shelled crabs,
I’m at the beach with people who care.
The rest have flown, looking for tits and or abs,
do you think they’ll find themselves there.