Gold,+a+poem+by+Ron+Press


 * __Gold__**


 * by Ron Press**

A thousand miles from home, A thousand feet underground, Yet another young miner lies buried.

The Anglo director receives in four minutes What the African miner received in a month And when the miner died his family starved.

Six thousand miles away Stacked high in massive vaults, Lie twenty four thousand tons of gold.

Why?

Gold cannot keep you warm. Gold does not keep you dry. Gold cannot be eaten.

I could understand if it was wheat, rice, or even oil.

Dress it up as you will, how do you explain this stupidity?

But then! It is known as capitalism. It cannot last. Reason and justice will out.