Isolated in filth in rags in degraded stupor...
They are disdained dregs
disrespected distanced by
dispossessing society.
They have no part place of sanctuary
in grandiosed all inclusive humanity
when theory impacts upon bigot reality.
Isolated in filth in rags in squalor pitiful stupor
in the cold of dark cosmopolitian urban nights
the wash-outs, the no hopers, drug addicts, thieves,
isolated cause of crime in our caring prodigal society.
I kill them with indifference
as surely as I kill the fly
with decisive intolerance.
They have but a moment
to live to die.
We have but a moment
to live to die.
I kill them
with indifference
as surely as I kill
the fly
with decisive
intolerance.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem