National Anthem

The empire's cities' centers still glitter,
Their towers aglow above the decay,
And the mandarins in them live better
Than ever. Their cooks make their
Meals. Their maids clean their homes,
And the income rolls in via salaries
And options, and trust funds,
And contracts, and unannounced deals.
The cooks and the maids, and the clerks
In the stores, the office assistants and
Various underlings generate money,
But can't take it home to their four-up
Apartments, their unemployed kids.
The ruts in their streets match the
Ruts in their lives. Every avenue's
Gridlocked. No one gets ahead.
“That's a shame,” say the mandarins,
“But what can we do? We've earned
What we've gotten, exactly like you.
We're just rich, and you're not,
And you won't be. Accept that.
Our empire is in decay.”



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 75 times
Written on 2016-09-16 at 19:30

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