"From Hero to Zero" -- a Comedic Poem of Rags to Riches
Got some serious Iambic Dimeter going on here...
Humans can turn any situation into a moneymaking venture. Look at undertakers. One day a bunch of people woke up, jumped out of bed and said, “Hey, you know all those dead people? There's money to be made from them!”
You can always make money. You can just simply ask for it.
Panhandlers, for instance. Also known as beggars, supplicants or Pfizer executives. While I’m sure it’s not common, some of these needy folks make bank. There’s always tales bouncing around about panhandlers who live in mansions, drive sports cars and snort Ozempic from Sydney Sweeney’s ample bosom.
So that gave me an idea for a poem, written in iambic dimeter, crafted with sardonic love.
Enjoy…
"From Hero to Zero" -- a Poem of Rags to Riches
Part 1 – We Meet Our Hero
Fold tent, eat hash
Mall opens soon
Dumb mark gives cash
Grin like full moon
Coin into sash
Sing loud glad tune
Next rube, make dash
Part 2 – Hero Has a Secret Life
Long work week past
Need bath, stop itch
Tent camp grows vast
“Must leave this bitch.”
Lyft zooms here fast
Head home tired, rich
Part 3 – Nice Digs
Love my lush ‘hood
And that’s a fact
See, life’s all good
Job just an act
All floors teak wood
Pool warm, ‘fridge stacked
Laugh if I could
But I’ve a pact:
“Life comes but once
For me, no wants!”
Part 4 - Hero+Bureaucratic Death Maze=Zero
Life threw curveball
How could I know?
Mark had stacks, tall!
Hey, dough is dough!
Start of my fall
“Come on, let’s go.”
Where? “City Hall!”
Stopped cold my flow
“Your name on wall
Big tax you owe
We take it all
So sorry, Joe.”
Came the U-Haul…
Part 5-Epilogue
My wealth deceased
No coin for rent
Scammed by the beast
But got my tent
Two bucks buys feast
“Tax man, get bent
I’m alive at least!”
THE END
Visit ClownWorld Shakespeare on da ‘gram…
I knew it! Those panhandlers are making out like bandits.