Low Ground
This world is turning differently
And all are becoming poor.
I'm not sure that those without
Can cope any better...
The cast offs are forgotten now...
More than ever.
As you scrabble and moan
About yourselves
Even less scraps are given...
Those who claim the high ground
Are proved to bake unleavened bread...
As has been well said for many years
Here among the low ground
Where we expect empty stomachs to growl
How hungry is hungry enough?
How rich does a man need to be?
Poetry by jenks
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Written on 2010-05-13 at 03:11
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