Busy bodies always moving,
Scheming, seeming motherly; soothing.
Hateful bodies constant shame,
Wondering how to enhance the lame.
Fear plays a desperate role
In how the human sells their soul.
Money, food, sex, objects,
Happiness, hatred, human subjects.
Let the world bask in your restitution,
Like you’re living in your denial, destitution.
Money, fame, degrees make us brave,
Cover us; shower us under the same earthly grave.
Busy bodies never learn,
About the wonders after every turn.
Straight paths to heaven through easy lives,
Bashing, lashing at those who are tried.
Encumbered bodies know no rest,
Between their “knowledge” of right and best.
Starving bodies know their limits,
Forget the world and all that is in it.
The soul of bodies who walk winding trails
Running, jumping, embracing the frail:
Upon their back they carry the weak
Happy, laughing, not afraid to speak.