An Old Nemesis

An old nemesis

Fighting against me since youth

Comes again to call,

Trying to snuff my life out

As it’s always wanted to.

Thus far it has lost,

But I am a realist,

One day I will lose

And will have to pay the price…

Until then I choose to live!


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

We Have Forgotten

We have forgotten!

The New Deal has been destroyed

And we don’t see it.

Social Security and

Medicare under attack.


Cleverly disguised

By the “old standby”…tax cuts

They try to bankrupt;

Forcing the extinction of

Our long beloved safety nets.


When will we wake up!

The middle-class is dying,

While privilege thrives.

When we are homeless and sick

Maybe then we’ll remember.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Mind Fading Away

Mind fading away

Ravaged by illness and age

Fate of so many

Such a sad state of affairs

Watching those we love forget

Feeling so helpless

We’ve become total strangers

Passing in the night

Frustration steeped in sadness

Becomes our permanent state

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Dark Closet

Its a dark closet,

Door shut,

Bolt fixed,

Lock turned.

Reaching above the door frame,

Skeleton key missing.

Clanging of metal tells the tale.

You’ve locked yourself inside,

Stolen the key.

Don’t you want rescue,

To be saved,

Freed from this dungeon?

In an instant

Lights go out.

No sign of life beneath locked door.

All is quite,

Retreating to the recesses of your mind.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


Scars, fresh raised and red

Born of stainless razors edge

Bleed…to make me feel

Numb, I do not understand

What flawed design produced me

Sleeves long– Hide the shame

Attempts for naught this hollow fill

Am I all alone

Left to cut and poke and prod

To wake up the walking dead


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

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.