Marching, marching,
to democratic drums.
Hungry mouths are open and
this is not a party and
this is not a pose.
This is a souvenir, expensive,
and I collect them
and this thing makes me happy
and I deserve my little toy.
Rich things and poor people,
face to face, colliding.
The poorest man is humming,
humming. Rich things can be spoken,
broken. I have a use for words.
I didn't post this oral incomplete version here, and I don't know how to get it removed. I can't remember if I posted the poem. I don't know what the asterisk is for or why the " r" is lower case so I'm thinking I did not post this. The poem first appeared in Black Bear Review. I wish it could be removed as it appears here against my wishes.
a good poem rich things and poor people can not afford the rich things
Wow, powerful. You definately have words your mood, you set is fantastic.I really enjoyed reading this please keep writing 10+
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Excellent! Poor Man's classical song rich ears never absorbs, and let the marching goes on..................