Forgotten 

While some lick their napkins 
And kiss their silver spoons 
Many live on leftovers
Hovering near garbage shoots 

Most people on this planet 
Are products of broken dreams 
Existing beyond the reach of justice 
In grotesque parodies of success 
And satires of happiness 
As slaves of economic machines
Kris: Even though this poem's message makes sense, the poetry itself is lousy.
Tim: Fortunately, the poem is hardly readable.
Sam: It mentions things I'd rather not think about.
Ted: Yeah, most folks would rather dream than think.