A Poem

Here's a poem I wrote recently... I thought it was interesting. And, surprisingly, it's not dark. Instead of trying to appeal to emotions, I tried conveying something resembling a message. It's also supposed to be a bit humorous. Not like the laugh sort but maybe more irony... I dunno. As of yet, it is untitled.



Many men live on this earth,
For some great fame is destined from birth
geniouses, warlords, conquerors, and kings
Fill volumes of history and other such things
Their deeds are those of which the bard sings
Sages ponder and think 'bout their lives
Historians compile and write great archives
Of every thing, in life they achieve
Of ever tiny creed they believe

Then there's the average farmer chap
Who's greatest decisions are whether to nap,
Who's jobs require nought but the strength
To plow a field, or measure it's length.

And yet, the geniouses crazily drink
Warlords slaughter millions without a blink,
Conquerors think themselves gods of love,
And kings... well... all the above

So, in the end, is it not much better
To smoke a pipe on the porch, wearing a sweater?
Is it not so much better, in life,
To honor God, one's children and wife?