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Kathy's Poem
An evil Prophet took in hand
A genuine dollar bill
He carefully examined it
Until he’d had his fill.
Then he set out to make
A counterfeit currency.
He didn’t do a very good job
If you had the real thing you’d see
The differences between real and fake
Were abundant as they could be.
The color was different. The texture was odd.
The whole thing lacked accuracy.
But that didn’t matter to this wicked man
He printed them in various degrees
Then went to a people who had never seen
genuine currency.
“This money is real,” Was his guarantee
It’s the way legal tender should be!
“What’s more,” he implored
“These notes are restored
To their original authenticity.”
This is the way money appeared
before man corrupted its look!
I’ve restored it all back to original state
From instructions in a golden book.”
The people were joyous
they took all they could
Never stopping to question
if they really should
Not bothering to wonder
about elsewhere on Earth
If any of the cash
would have any worth.
The people gave to the Prophet
Their property and homes
In essence all that they had
In return he gave them
Blessings "to come" and
bills that were worthless and bad.
For years they exchanged it
And when they all died,
Their children received it
And continued the lie.
Until one day a young girl ventured from town
To purchase herself
a new style gown.
She wanted to know what the world had to offer
Hidden within its grandest of coffers.
She felt well-prepared
with the money she had
Received from the wealthy
Estate of her Dad.
She traveled quite far
Taking more than a day
And ended her journey
In a town called L.A.
Feeling quite hungry
She went to a stand
And ordered a hamburger
With cash in hand.
Her order was taken
And filled as it should
But when given the money
The bloke cried, “No Good!”
She argued and reasoned
But with no avail
He took back the burger
And sent her to hail--
A taxi outside on the busy highway
One stopped when she called out
Almost right away.
She said, “Take me to an Inn
A place that’s first class
The driver responded
With a step on the gas
He drove like a pro
in his shiny new cab
Then at the hotel
he called out her tab.
“Twenty-one dollars,”
he said with a smile
So she handed him bills with a tip
Quite worthwhile.
“You’ve got to be kidding!”
His smile soon vanished
“This money ain’t real!”
And with that she was banished
Into the street
with a kick and shove
What was wrong with this city that
She’d been in awe of?
It didn’t get better
In fact it got worse
At the hotel her money
Went back in her purse
The clerk called a cop
Who scolded her soundly
Her money was worthless
He told her profoundly.
“If you continue to use it”
He warned “Without fail,
The next place you’ll visit
will be County Jail.”
Discouraged and tired
And feeling quite crank
She wandered about
‘til she came to a Bank.
“Surely, this is the place
That accepts any money!
She went on inside
With a smile that was sunny.
“I’d like to exchange this
For L.A.-type funds
I’d like it in small bills…”
But the clerk just looked stunned!
“Your money is counterfeit,
bogus and fake!
It’s worthless and useless
For goodness own sake!”
Hungry and tired
At the end of her rope
The young girl now felt that
She’d been quite a dope.
Her whole life she’d been taught
That their money was real
The Prophet had told them
With thunder and zeal.
But faced with the truth
Of the scam that’d been done
She was filled with a rage
That’d not set with the sun.
She returned to her people
To tell of the lie
Their money was phony
The Prophet was sly.
Most of the people
Would not hear what she said
"Apostate! Gentile!
You’re better off dead--
Than to doubt the words
of our Prophet true
Go away from us now
We’ll not listen to you."
But a hand full of people
Heard what she did say
They took the fake money
And threw it away.
She showed them real money
But they shook their heads
They said, "How can you know
What is true?" and they fled.
They stuffed down their sorrow
And refused any aid
They ridiculed money
It was all bad they said.
In sadness and sorrow
She went on her way
Determined to find out the truth
And not stray.
She studied real money
The kind you could spend
She memorized aspects
Of it end to end.
She let others teach her
About legal tender
In time she could tell
Any fake one could render.
The point of this tale
That I hope you will hear
Is that learning the truth
Will be hard to bear.
Some will reject it
And cling to the lie
Others in anger
Toss the Truth and ask WHY?
Only a few
will examine it all
Find someone to help them
And muster a call.
A few will consider
what a counterfeit steals
That it copies the truth
And robs what is real
Don’t throw out the truth
because of the fake
Search for the thing
The counterfeit replicates
That is thing upon
Which you can trust
It can stand up to your questions
It can prove what it must.
It is there if you search
No matter where you have been
But to give up just means
That the Counterfeit wins.
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