How I Got Richer And What I Did Next

My love for poetry cannot be expressed in emotions so I just write instead.

How I Got Richer and What I Did Next

I struck a sly deal with some Wall Street investors.
I shorted 'em stocks that didn't exist!
But they got me back (those post-empty-nesters)
by making fake deals I couldn't resist.

So I made a bold plan. I'd get big and still bigger.
My dream was immense: I'd conquer the market!
How would I do it? I'll bet you can't fig'ure.
I'll whisper my plan. (Shhh! I won't bark it.)

What I make is no secret. My dream is the thing.
My stuff the world uses. It can't do without.
My competitors fear (while secretly hoping)
I'll become a cartel and buy them all out!

So here's what I make (a simple thing really).
You use it at dinner, at breakfast and lunch,
when it's hot and it's steamy or cold and it's chilly.
Donuts to dollars you must have a hunch.

It fixes most things, an all-purpose tool.
It will open a can, pull the cork from a bottle,
even fix all your plumbing (now isn't that cool?).
Under the hood it'll fix your car's throttle.

I know that you're anxious. I know you can't wait.
I'm making the point. Sit still and don't fidget!
Now no more pondering and staying up late:
I make what you use: the Gadget and Widget!

Making millions and billions takes plenty of people.
My company grew, got huge and kept growing.
A company needs growth. A church needs a steeple.
You see how it works? I just kept on going.

I hired by hundreds and thousands and more.
I worked 'em like slaves, paid dimes even less.
They threatened to strike, even steal the store
but I had the power! I could hardly care less.

I'd fire 'em in masses, by hundreds and dozens.
I gave them no notice, I paid them no pension.
I fired them all, brothers sisters and cousins.
I paid off the media; they gave me no mention.

But shedding the people only solved half the puzzle.
I still needed gadgets! Work had to get done.
Just how could I do it? I put hands on my muzzle.
No output, no profit. So how could I run?

At midnight one day I awoke with a start
My plan was so clear, so cool and so cunning.
I'd go overseas! My plan was quite smart.
I knew with assurance I'd keep right on running.

I worked day and night 'til after sunset.
I worked without stop. I even skipped meals.
I outsourced production and then flew by jet
to scour the globe for even more deals.

Gov'nments with greed – those were our game.
Why, you might ask, do business with these?
The answer is simple: except for the name
they've two things in common: the gov'ment takes fees

And labor's dirt cheap (it costs odds and ends).
The less I pay out the more left for me!
It works like a scale: when their side descends
my side goes up. It's logic, you see.

My scheme soon paid off. I spanned the whole globe.
I owned my competitors by tens and by scores.
To find where I wasn't you'd dig and you'd probe:
just gadgets and widgets in millions of stores!

A few years of this 'bout did me in.
I crawled to my bed and I slept a deep sleep.
I dreamed a strange dream of goodness and sin.
I chatted with God about what I could keep.

He said in the end it was all up to me
but my state of affairs just didn't look good.
Pearly Gates entry he couldn't quite see.
Suddenly in front of St. Peter I stood.

We discussed and we bargained, tried to see eye to eye.
Well most of that's true. He discussed and I bargained.
(I knew I would lose but I still had to try.
I thought that maybe he could just be out-jargoned!)

But this wasn't happening! It was just a dream.
No need to worry. My life wouldn't change.
(Dreams being dreams things aren't what they seem.
Abandon my business? I couldn't. Too strange.)

St. Peter spoke more. He had some suggestions.
“Do something useful. Help orphans and widows.
People have needs. Look ' round. Ask some questions.
And ask your friend Sid. I'm sure that Sid knows.

And oh by the way, those countries you mention?
At least say you're sorry. It surely can't hurt.
Don't make a big show. Avoid causing tension.
Just say it with meaning. Try not to be curt.”

I blinked, rubbed my eyes, then blinked a bit more.
I stretched and remembered I had to call Sid!
Now what was his number? I had it before.
Just have to remember where I had it hid.

I looked in my book. No Sid in there.
I started to wonder: did I even know Sid?
Did I sleep? Am I up? I'll pull out a hair.
Ouch! I'm awake! So I never did!

I recalled Pearly Gates. I remembered a dream
and trying to bargain at the Gates with St. Pete.
That stayed in my head (strange it may seem).
We'd discussed and debated. St. Pete's hard to beat!)

I'll allow he's a point. I won't pick a nit.
I've mostly been right (just a little bit wrong).
Ok, ok maybe more than a bit.
If I set things to rights, we could get along.

But St. Pete asks a lot. (This really does sting.)
If stuff needs some doing ... I might maybe could.
Now give me a moment to ponder this thing.
If I knew what to do, I'm sure that I would.

(He went to his office. He sat and he thought.
He called for his staff. But they'd left, the whole bunch.
So he made a few plans with ideas he'd caught
then got so excited he even missed lunch!

All the people he'd fired? He hired them back.
He said he was sorry. He tripled their pay.
He asked them their names. He said, “Call me Mack!”.
The sun rose much brighter the very next day.

He did all he promised, or so we are told.
He did what he said. He even did more!
He began to think friendships were worth more than gold.
He laughed right out loud – hadn't done that before!

He perked up his ears, St. Peter did.
When he heard that guffaw, that belly-roll laugh.
His laughter was joyous, like it came from a kid
St. Peter stood up, took hold of this staff.

I think he's found what he used to lack.
He's learned the difference twixt evil and sin.
When he gets here one day I'll shake his hand, pat his back.
I'll open the Gates and welcome him in.

This poem was published in the year 2016 by John Mudge

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