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Poems for
Free
Copyright by
Nicholas Gordon
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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. Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.
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