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Poem

What is class, you have the cash
Dressed to match, riches stash,
Pseudo rich and all pretence
Having no feelings or sincere sense.
Class of people bother not of poor
Look down on others, scornfully sure.
When storms hit hard and tides turn rough
There is no friend who’ll stand by tough.
But the poor once ignored by class
Will leave the gates of razzmatazz
here by your side to be
Helping you through your misery.
Look not down on another
Treat them like your sister or brother.
Don’t count friendship by size of house
Weigh not him by what, when and hows.
His heart is clean and welcomes you
Treating you well with food and juice.
Today he’s down, someday will he be high
Then your whims his class will supply.
Class is not born to time and space
Birth was not in gold and lace.
Naked was he that once crawled the ground
Attained a class by means of vile and sound.
 
The mirror shows a different gleam
 Eyes see not what they may seem.
Class is all for show, glamour and pomp
Lost midst multitudes in a pride of swamp.
Plastic smiles with fake, shallow concern
Time, reality will soon confirm.

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