Without the wherewithal to buy
I go without the food I need
whilst richer people overfeed.
I’m free to starve in poverty.
I must rely on charity,
does nothing for my self esteem.
Never in my wildest dream
did I realise that I could be.
Without a job without a home
.By circumstances forced to steal
but my hungers all too real.
A spell in jail would be welcome.
At least inside I would be fed.
Not root in dumpsters for my food.
I’d rather work as a man should
to earn my daily crust of bread.
My firm downsized and fired me
because their profit margins fell.
A matter of economy
consigning working men to hell.
The world is run by greedy men
who are obsessed with balance sheets.
So I may never work again
but live and die upon the streets.
13-Apr-08
http: //blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
Ivor the truth and nothing but the truth. The split between the poor and the rich is now even wider than it was twenty years ago. Greed has certainly taken over which is so sad, in a way I'm glad that I'm not starting out on life for goodness knows what will come next. Well written piece and the read was enlightening. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX
Very true poem Ivor! Great read! ! *10*! ! Best regards, Friend Thad
And so we go back to the grimmer days once more, only now I too am over 50, and feel vulnerable too. Well writ my friend, good luck. Shaun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
beautiful...........you said it all..well penned