Below the Working Class

Greatest is the servant’s slave to the pope the good looking still carries a dry throat such living is washed with a costly soap to break a jinx right from ancestral coat value’s attached to every mess and rag people of this class just live and manage a rare light may shine but will face the lag progress so dragged despite all courage in wealth’s province, they are total outcasts ride the train of existence with no seat in another side the world runs so fast as the weak attend poverty’s retreat life has distinguished with its shovel but the low still has something to marvel.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

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Gazbowski Avatar
May 23, 2016 at 12:45 PM
Excellent sonnet Funom. If only the working class awoke from their conditioned slumber then the world would maybe, have a chance. We are the solution to the problem/s. Would Jesus live as the pope does in obscene luxury ? No would be the answer !
Makama Avatar
May 26, 2016 at 11:45 AM
You are so right Lenny. Thank you a million times
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