Turncoats with Badges

He has his gas mask and his grievances.
Each one is real. He can't afford to live
In something like a home. Where he lives
Is more like a coffin, tiny, cramped.
It smells of death, and he can't find a decent
Job, and all his neighbors also suffer,
So he's on the street tonight,...but look
At this! The man across the barricades,
In armor, that one with his pistol pointed
At him, lives just down the hall. He faces
All the troubles that the masked man and his
Allies face, but he's so keen to keep his
Paycheck that he'll swing his truncheon,
Point his gun to save the status quo,
And, soon enough, the streets will empty.
Those above the streets, above the fray,
Will stay where they have been, and all
The ones with covered faces will drift off,
Once more defeated, not just by their
Betters, but by traitors in their midst.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 103 times
Written on 2019-10-03 at 02:38

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text