The Plight of Subordinates
Time's pages are turning; folks are churning
A better butter, worth bread's hard earning
Its unmistaken; bacon is burning
In thin, cheap, tin pans but we're all learning
Somehow, minimum wage is "all the rage"
Scavenge or squander, for this is the age
The century turns and the mass discerns
That our taxes smoke and our money burns
Hard work for many, enjoyment for few
Makes us unseen; faded! A weak, frail blue
Of collars while we passively earn our dollars
Of greens dimmer than wind's grimmer hollers
Don't stutter in the street, fluttering fleet!
Ban that bullying bureau thunder beat
And drum for the sum of a good , fair share
And a sequel of equal value and flair
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
