DO GOODERS

The do-gooders are not

Those who sponsor

That names may ring bells

And screens may beam

They are sure not in the picture

The do-gooders are not

The party sprayers

Who open sycophantic mouths with wads

The proverbial ground wetters

They only pay the pipers

The do-gooders are not

Those who sustain one on daily stipends

In the guise of generous trends

Such support, to slavery tends

The prisoners’ food is not for fattening

The do-gooders do not abound

In the crafty recipients

Who in want of another courage to ask

Embrace the circumlocutory task

Of adulation that more may abound

The do-gooders are found

They are the red crosses in between fires

Who against the pleas of love bound

Give of their lives for the victims of trials

Their good is rarely sung

The do-gooders are either

Those who unsolicited helps render

Or those with the widow’s mite to tender

Though they put smiles on faces

They are never thanked in phases

The do-gooders are found

Like the green snake

In the green grass

In their noiseless footprints

Their faceless grants

Deficiency of ulterior motives

The do-gooders are rare.