~The Poet’s Poet~
Peace, pleasure, love and enjoyment
Is that too much to ask for she questioned?
With a quiver in her voice
A roof over my head a home a bed
Look me in the eye tell me why
I have to beg for a bite to eat
It is the 21st century after all
Wealth is very unevenly dispersed
I had employment and a home
The company went belly up
I and many more like me left unemployed
The fat cats washed their hands of us
We, the ones who slaved to line their pockets
Left demoralised with nowhere to turn
Every door we knock on, closed in our face
The dinosaurs of this world care not a jot
We are lumbered with a debt, not of our own making
The human scrap heap grows and grows and grows
She cried bitter tears which moved those
Who sat and listened, once I enjoyed gastronomic delights
Now I sit on a cold pavement and pray for those on the soup run.
© Chris Black. January 2019 #Poetry #amwriting