The Great Auction

There is a great auction that runs day and night. Where bidders are a ruthless lot thick of hide, a shameless cover for an almost sooting conscience. For this floor is not the realm of patience.

Bang bang the hammer goes and every second a victim falls. To every soul the auctioneer calls. Some to buy and many to sell. For a few pennies a story will tell and for a little change the mighty fall.

Cling cling the bell taps foul to tally up a balance sheet of souls. Clunk clunk goes the carrion fowls. Theirs is a harvest from all directions four. In their wake empty shells crawl and howl.

Clunk clunk the crutches go marching on to that great auction floor. The shrills and cries soon will go when  those few quarters melt with the sunrise glow. In that great chariot see them go.

Bang bang, cling cling, chunk  chunk, ching ching those pennies fall.
A dime here, some pence there and some cents there Before long that hideous hammer falls - "sold!"

On that great train one more soul hauled.
"What good is it if a man gains the whole world, yet forfeit his soul"
From times of old the same story told

Bang bang, clunk clunk, ching ching with eyes red and sore. That great auction floor yearning for more.

Photo cred: https://www.westpac.co.nz

By Simbarashe McNorris Hakata