This Walk Amongst The Dead

This walk amongst the dead.

This dance with mortality.

Partnered with those that believe they will live forever.

Gathering, greedily hoarding every last cent

They race to the pinnacle of their professions

At the expense of those they deem competition,

Trampling anyone who gets in their way.

Fattened as the calf bank accounts swell as do their bellies.

Designer clothes and jewelry adorn their swollen vessels.

No thought do they give to the rest of humanity;

Their fellow man is but an impedance to future success.

They have no time for them,

No time for their mates nor their children,

No time for their brothers and sisters that share this earth.

What is their endgame?

When is enough, enough?

They don’t realize that they are already dead,

Dead to the world, their mates and their children.

Paupers as they were at birth

With their final blink there will be no wealth,

No grand houses,

No designer clothes,

No jewelry;

No one will weep on their pine box.

When the last shovel-full of dirt is thrown on their grave

They will be utterly alone, naked and penniless

–Before their Maker.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


We Stand In Arrogance

We stand in arrogance,

Our own world–the only world

Feeling not the pain of others.

We are removed, unsympathetic, unconcerned,

It does not touch our lives.

You cannot touch video.

You cannot smell the written word.

You cannot taste their anguish.

Too far separated are we!

It is not real though we know it is,

Allowing oceans to separate safety from reality.

Sit quietly in the warmth and comfort of your homes,

Sip your coffee, piping hot and fresh,

Enjoy the bounty of the food that surrounds you,

Sleep well in the softness of your bed,

Watch your news,

Read your paper,

Pretend that all is right with the world,

But remember distance is merely an illusion.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


Pain Like No Other

Pain…like no other

Living–wrong side of the tracks.

Dirty and hungry;

Sunken eyes reveal sadness

Under shroud of filthy streets.

Urchins you call them,

Throwaways to be ignored,

Wastes of human flesh.

Where is your humanity?

They’re people like you and me

Children of this world

Worthy of our sympathy

Worthy of our love

You best take heed!

For one day it may be you

That is spit upon.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


In The End

Gather up what to you belongs

It serves no purpose once you’re gone

A lifetime spent in hordish gather

In the end what does it matter

We collect and prize our worldly wares

Empty handed we climb the stairs

Meaningless in the grand scheme of things

To claw and scratch for golden ring

This buys you nothing in the end

How sad to see this is the trend

He who has the most stuff losses

If this path the fool doth chooses

Instead look upon your fellow man

Offer them an outstretched hand

For one and all we are the same

In this life a finite game

More wealth derived from acts of kindness

Than all that’s earthly left behind us

Believe or not this must be true

As I strive in all I do

Though I sometimes stumble and often fail

I choose to believe this sober tale


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Recapturing Innocence

By D. R. DiFrancesco


I found a place,

Deep inside me,

Warm and comforting,

Something I thought I’d lost.


So many years ago,

Innocence shielded me,

Harbored my emotions,

Enveloped me in the simplicity of youth.


Age changed,

I let my gentility drift off,

Replacing it with cynicism,

Spoiling the wonder of me.


The world didn’t change,

It is still just as wondrous,

Instead it was me that was corrupted,

My skepticism and pessimism changed my view.


Looking for the worst,

My fellow man could not be trusted,

Conniving and deceitful by nature,

I lost sight of the decent.


My perception flawed,

Skewed by life experience,

Taken as the standard bearer,

Distorting my future interactions.


Mistrust instills bitterness,

Fear of the worst is all consuming,

Depression and anxiety take root,

Trapping ugliness inside.


Tired of the sadness,

No longer recognizable,

It was not me in the mirror,

Rather a shell of who I was.


With eyes wide,

I looked deep,

Straining to find the innocent me,

Drawn to tears by the time I’d lost.


There is joy in letting go,

Finding good in what surrounds me,

Purging the cynic and skeptic,

Anchors that weighed me down.


I have found that place,

Pleasing to my body and soul,

Lost so many years ago,

To the ravages of maturity.

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