Haute Prejudice

Haute Prejudice.

Wrapped around manicured fingers,
Carats and ounces.

Flung over muscled shoulders,
Pin-stripes and silk.

Shoveled down open mouths,
Caviar and oysters.

Reeking from each pore,
Prejudice and hate.

The reeking odour is alive.

It is carried by the forlorn breeze,
Wafting through mansions and jacuzzis.

The reeking odour of the whispered epithet,
Lingers on as the perfume fades away.


I try to hide.
In dusty corners and trashy alleyways.

I try to escape the noxious smell,
As I flee into a crawl.

Yet the pervasive smell of hate in the air,
Swirls and invades and mutates and propagates.

The bile rises,
Nauseated,
Sick with mock pity,
For those fighting over the scraps,
In our gleaming city.

'freeloaders' and 'bums',
White, brown, black, pink, yellow,
And those battered into shades of black and blue.

Will it ever end?

Perhaps never.

Not until I realize,

That 'they' are me,

And that I am you.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2013

Poem

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Ink-U-Script Avatar
February 27, 2013 at 12:54 PM
So true..I love the play on words here..Its all apart of what is called "life".
Of Verses Avatar
February 27, 2013 at 1:12 PM
Thank you, Pace!
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