Tag Archives: destitute

Unalike at Birth

Credit - csmonitor.com

Credit – csmonitor.com

By D. R. DiFrancesco

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I ran the race, but tripped and fell,

The starter’s pistol heard clear as a bell.

~

They say we start out as equals its true,

Sadly the shortest of fates straws I drew.

~

The field is not level, its slanted you see,

The caste at your birth influences who you will be.

~

Yes this can change its not written in stone,

You’ll have to push harder and higher alone.

~

Your families old money makes for a pre-made man

While I scratch and I claw doing all that I can.

~

As I’m running my race I can see you ahead,

Getting farther and farther from the path that I tread.

~

You claim we are the same from conception to birth,

My mother cleans houses, what’s your Daddy’s net worth.

~

The systems unfair, some say evil and cruel,

Treating those of less fortune as inconvenient and worthless fools.

~

Because you say this is not so does not make it true,

I work as hard if not harder than many of you do.

~

Still I live paycheck to paycheck without a spare dime,

Hoping and praying someday good fortune in turn will be mine.

~

I would change my condition if only time would allow,

But with work, home, and family to their pressures I must bow.

~

You laugh and call us stupid behind country club doors,

We are those that wait on you, clean up after you and shine your marble floors.

~

How dare you proclaim that this system is fair,

From your ivory towers, sprawling mansions, and mountain top lairs.

~

Remember there are those far less fortunate than you,

Born without the golden slipper, silver spoon our betterment you subdue.

~

I look forward to the day when in my shoes you must walk,

Maybe then you’ll show compassion and stifle harsh talk.

~

Until then I will struggle and work ‘til I drop,

Pray the system will change and this punishment stop.

~

When fairness for all is the law in this land,

Maybe then we can solve our problems walking arm in arm and hand in hand.

Just Another Day in the Promised Land

Homeless mother and child – csindy.com

By D. R. DiFrancesco

 ~~~~

Dirty faces streaked with tears,

Revealing the shell of who they were,

In silence they live their greatest fears,

Passing by, you pray they do not stir.

~~

Their homes a box, a shantytown,

No cover from rain, sleet or snow,

Living with luck or fate torn down,

With arrogance you look away from those below.

~~

Sisters, brothers, mothers, fathers,

They too were once like you,

Annoyed you pass, you can’t be bothered,

With these paupers, beggars and shrews.

~~

They did not ask for their station in life,

For many, no fault of their own,

They huddle with daughter, son and wife,

On these sidewalks and alleys alone.

~~

Lift yourself up and make your own way,

With what, is a question to be asked,

Struggling to eat day to day,

There’s no time for their plight to be masked.

~~

A little compassion would go a long way,

Helping pick up our fellow man,

With food and warmth and a safe place to stay,

Simple basics since time began.

~~

So many are one paycheck away,

From the life these nightmares are made of,

In darkness they hope to keep poverty at bay,

Saying prayers to their God in Heaven above.

~~

From that vagrant you see do not dart your eyes,

Instead offer an honest helping hand,

Remember the innocent child who cries,

Dirty, hungry and homeless in this promised land.

A Friend in Need

By D. R. DiFrancesco

~~

Squatting down in ragged jeans,

Trembling hands counting out small change,

Pennies, nickels and dimes his life’s savings,

Mumbling to himself,

Wondering if he had enough for a drink.

Scorching sun on the molten sidewalk,

His weathered face toughened to leather,

Aged far beyond his years,

What is his story,

People pass by ignoring his existence.

Cold water,

Sweat dripping from my fingertips,

Waiting to pay for my pleasure,

Mind drifting back to the poor man on the sidewalk,

What fate lies ahead for him.

He asked for nothing,

He should not have to ask for anything,

Should we not care without request,

Tears welled up in my eyes,

This could be me.

Food and drink,

Such a small price for a brother in need,

This could never be enough, still it was all I could do,

“Here you go friend”, as the pittance was offered,

“Thank you kindly”, his humble reply.

A Delusional Vision

By D. R. DiFrancesco

You say it’s for our own good,
You know better than us,
Claiming to be erudite,
But displaying nothing but contempt..

The mold you had cast,
Lies cracked and crumbling,
Still you try to force us to conform,
Assuming we are incompetent.

Hiding behind evangelical fervor,
You treat us as children,
Too naive and simple to surmise what is right,
Sinful beings needing your protection from ourselves.

When did we become so helpless,
You angry old men,
Surrounded by your white marble walls,
Casting retribution over your fiefdom.

Showing little veneration for the gentler sex,
You rule over them with feign compassion,
While valuing them as nothing more than objects,
What despots you are.

Under whose authority is love within your purview,
You look down upon those who do not believe as you do,
Regarding them as broken and immoral,
You vile creatures.

Do they not bleed as you do,
Are born innocent, live and die,
Crave love and acceptance as you do,
What makes you so self-righteous?

You despise those less fortunate,
Consistently questioning their ethics,
You claim they are lazy and felonious by nature,
Begging for alms at every turn.

Do not pretend to know them,
You have never visited their neighborhoods,
Struggled for your next meal,
You would not survive a day in their shoes.

“Pull yourself up by your bootstraps”, says you,
Your totalitarian battle cry,
Toil and sweat, and you can be like me,
Easily said from the pillowed comfort of your penthouse.

We are not like you,
Neither fate nor inheritance have looked favorably upon us,
Our labors scarcely provide for the bare necessities,
Still we have hope in our childrens futures..

Your greed and cold-heartedness have blinded you,
Morally corrupt,
Like the gluttonous tick you bleed society dry,
To build your delusional visions of utopia.

47th and Madison

By D. R. DiFrancesco

Wind blows icy and sharp,

Sidewalks caked in gum and grime,

Could pass for Art Deco,

If not for their hearts of stone.

A biting chill rising,

Stinging the prone soul,

The corner she calls home,

Talking and motioning to her alter-ego.

Wrapped in a windbreaker of plastic,

Once for someones rubbish,

Black and torn,

This, her life fortune.

Passers-by avoid her gaze,

The unseen don’t exist in their convenient world ,

While scorn cast its ugly breath upon her,

Disguised as laughter and whispers.

She’s gone now,

Passed away, put away, moved on,

Her home, white washed and sterile,

Did you even know who she was, did she ever exist?

She could have been your mother,

Possibly a sister or a family friend,

Someone you could have loved,

She could have even been you.