A poem by: Ben Dunk. December 12, 1970




Tired men of fortune

Roam the world in their limousines

Looking for the soon thing

To quiver their enzymes


But the ultimate’s in life’s span

Are as inaccessible with money

As is the centre of the sun

Making their frantic antics funny


So opposite the poor artisan

Smoking his peaceful pipe

In a suburban garden

Enjoying life’s humility sans gripe


Or the day to day artist

Bent upon producing self satisfaction

Whose ears will not list’

To financial, social or political stupefaction


How to learn the perfect path

Of beautiful clean living

And escape the mental and physical wrath

Of ambitious excessive striving


Time off for meditation my man

Calm thoughts in the face of ironics

Work steadily with pleasure in the van

And do not be damned by economics