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All poems: copyright by
Nicholas Gordon
Free scrapbook poems
permission to use
provided by the author. |
The murderous middle class has no
Hard evidence of harm.
Each paddles round the cubicle,
Maintained by what goes on.
Unburdened by communion with
Romantic harmonies
Discerned by a too-willing heart,
Each dreams of grace and ease.
Reason serves the scavengers, while
Only nightmares tell,
Unspeakable, the evils wrought
So they might thrive in hell.
Middle classes mind the store,
Indentured to the wind,
Demanding nothing but their due,
Decent, honest, kind.
Little do they contemplate,
Entrapped in loss and gain,
Canticles of misery
Lamenting lifelong pain.
As they consume, they wonder why
So many others have to die,
Strangled in their name. |
