All Roads Lead to Rome

Counting nines, counting twelves

counting monkeys on the shelves.

Change, frightening to behold

yet no new stories to be told.

Life goes on the way it must

but if it doesn’t, it’s only dust.

What was created is now torn down,

monkeys scattered all around.

We once used money to light the fires

as we sought and bought our heart’s desires.

The money tree has lost its limbs,

and now we rock and sing our hymns.

Amazing grace is all that’s left,

security gone, we are bereft

and monkey see, monkey do

has not worked out for me or you.

Economy imploded, culture shocked

to see the fragility when Wall Street rocked.

The cycle of greed almost complete,

no one left standing on his feet.

Hear no evil, speak or see,

the monkey down on bended knee

praying to his gods above,

put away their boxing gloves.

And to the God upon His throne

We pray escape from the fate of Rome.

A once great empire rose and fell

we hear the toll of that same bell.

Monkey see, monkey do,

if only we had learned from you.