'' That's Down To Us '' - Poem by Bri Mar
As they spin their webs,
They call us plebs,
How dare we question their morals?
Their answer is, we must put down the rebs,
Never let them rest on their laurels.
The rich are but sleepers,
We are their keepers,
That's something we tend not to see,
They in effect are our grim reapers,
Among us they cause a melee.
As austerity bites,
We must turn out the lights,
They dictate to us, get on your bike,
Our rights to protest give them the last rites,
They dictate you cannot go on strike.
It's really sad,
It makes them glad,
That they keep us under their thumb,
To them we're just a necessary fad,
Of use but incredibly dumb.
Like eating cake,
From us they take,
Their greed we sit back and ignore,
Our own principles they know we'll forsake,
Confronting them to us is a chore.
Them robbing us blind,
We don't seem to mind,
We exist in a state of sedation,
They just sit back and watch us grind,
Their reward is our taxation.
While we struggle by,
They live the lie,
The majority looking after the few,
We look inequality straight in the eye,
They do say you get what you're due.
It is our gaffe,
We make them laugh,
Wondering why we don't make a fuss,
They spend our money on their behalf,
‘' That's Down To Us ‘'
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about '' That's Down To Us '' by Bri Mar
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe