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Oh, Poverty,
You merciless ruler of billions,
Your empire of want, across the globe
You have stretched
As 
In your unpitying passage,
No village
No town
No city
No nation
No continent is left
Unoccupied
By 
Your ruthless forces:  
Of suffering
Of Misery
Of agony  
Of despair, and
Of calamitous death.
-
The innumerable subjects of yours
Subjugated are
By
The powerful heartless few
Who
Their ruthless decrees:
Of cruelty
Of indifference
Of inconsideration, and
Of shameful exploitation have been
For centuries, unmercifully applying,
Grinding your subjects in
Their shameful mills of fathomless greed,  
Always,
Taking for themselves the lions share, first,
And then for more are they asking,  
While
The deprived multitude of starving
Women, men, and children
On empty stomachs, they march
The
Horrid enemy of starvation to face
On
Famine’s unforgiving front of their demise,
Wishing thus
To die in the battle of survival with dignity,
Than
In agony to live another day
Without hope that their dream of satiety
Will ever come alive!

Oh, poverty,
Don’t ask me how did I come
Your grimy nature so well to know
But
If ever I were asked,
Here is my reply:
" I know you, oh poverty so well,
for    
since my birth, a loyal subject of yours I have been
and still a loyal subject of yours
I remain to this day!"






© Demetrios Trifiatis
      25 May 2021

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