Life in the West

We all are to the manor born, these days, as nobles,
Also servants.  See the former strut and preen.
Their lives are good, their incomes ample.  They
Don't want for anything.  The latter live in poverty.
One doesn't get a lot of money when one has
The servant's role.  The tasks assigned are dull,
Demeaning, constant.  One does not advance.
The manor's hierarchy's fixed.  The nobles thrive,
And always will.  The servants don't and won't.





Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2024-07-10 at 14:21

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
Up the revolution, Brother! The proletariat are waking up.
Blessings, Allen
2024-07-12


Sameen
You said it brother. Neo-Feudalism I call it
2024-07-11