Money is Power (Senryu)

Money is power

Survival of the fittest

And we aren’t worthy

.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Tin Cup In His Hand (Tanka)

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Tin cup in his hand

Begging for change in the rain

Hoping to survive

 

Tens of thousands of dollars

Spent to sit on the fifty

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

Looking For Escape

Looking for escape
A mass of humanity
Sports–the drug of choice
Pushed by corporate giants
We‘ll pay almost any price
An amazing site
This sea of  team wear–floating
All moving as one
Their wearers oblivious
That they are feeding the greed
At their own expense

~~Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Aromatic–Bold (Haiku)

Aromatic-bold
Expresso necter of gods
Calls me to arise

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

For The Kings Amusement

Drawing your broadsword,

The shrill sound of blade on scabbard

Sends the wind whistling as you ready for the plunge.

From your gilded perch you call a throne,

You drive your saber home!

Stripping away every last breath,

Leaving those that built your dominion

Clutching their throats and gasping for air,

All to adorn your coffers

With the gold of fools.

Corpses of the loyal lie scattered about

Left to rot in the noonday sun.

You know more will come

Looking to you for mercy and sustenance,

Knowing they too are expendable.

Your minstrels praise you calling you benevolent Lord

While you smile your hollow smile.

With yellowed teeth and putrid breath

You shower them with accolades,

All the while condemning them to death.

You find this such great sport,

A vicious game,

Played solely for your amusement.

Who loses makes no matter

So long as its you that prospers.

You look down upon your subjects

With jeweled goblet in hand,

Whispering in contempt

That they are not worthy of your grace

Nor deserving of your clemency.

So you carry on like a spoiled Prince

Conniving those around you,

“Fear not!”, you proclaim–this is all in jest,

While the executioner readies his block

For the next ax to fall.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Authors Note: I wrote this piece back in November of 2012 and as I expected, nothing has changed, in fact in many ways it has gotten drastically worse for so many people.  Sadly, I can’t really say I am surprised.

Is It Hope Or Foolishness

Is it hope or foolishness,

Games of chance,

One more turn of the card,

The next pull of the one armed bandit

Hit me,

Come on–triple sevens,

Changing life forever.

More often than not

The wallet ends lighter,

The heart weeps louder,

The mind is more full of regret,

Maybe next time…

Jackpot!

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

Blood And Tears By The Day We Weep

Blood and tears by the day we weep

At the hands of a master with whip in hand.

Giving just enough so his slaves may eat

While keeping them cast in this purgatory land.

 

From towers of ivory they cackle at our fear

That their purse strings of velvet they may cinch.

Leaving us victim to the profits held so dear

Unwilling to contort even an inch.

 

O’ the horrors of the indentured organizing for their rights

How terrible and unpatriotic they must be.

To want a fair wage and sleep peacefully at night

Instead of worrying that their jobs just might flee.

 

Capitalists claim it’s the best of both worlds

That the profits trickle down to the masses.

With a grin on their faces lies they do hurl

Condemning the poor and middle classes.

 

Those that buy in are the ones they most harm

Afraid to speak out for what is fair.

Choosing to smile and nod with a charm

That sloughs it all off with no care.

 

They lie to themselves that all’s as it should be

No better system exists on this earth.

While the master ships our jobs away overseas

This shows how little we are worth.

 

Who is unpatriotic where their loyalty is concerned

The capitalist driven by power and greed.

Or is it the captive dying for all he has earned

Just to live and his family to feed.

 

In nearly two and half centuries very little has changed

Money and class are still rules of the day.

This is how unjustly our system is arranged

The affluent would have it no other way.

 

So pull close your wife, husband, daughter and son

For the ride may get bumpier as we go.

Unless we fight back then the master–he has won

Then ever less is all we’ll have to show.

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

Blink And It Is Gone

Blink and it is gone.

All that you took for granted–

Evaporated,

Because of insatiable greed

And deep-rooted selfishness.

Looking down from high

Upon those less fortunate

With smirks and disdain–

You should truly be ashamed!

Each dirty face could be yours

In a single blink.

It is that simple.

In this life or the next

There will be judgement.

Do you want to take the chance

That you’ll be the lesser soul?

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

Scattered Amongst The Ashes

Scattered amongst the ashes

A solitary flame flickers

Shedding light on the bleakness of this world.

Perhaps the next child born will be the one to save us from ourselves.

Each first breath offering hope

That our nescience is not irreparable.

Deeming ourselves civilized

We erect gauntlets against what does not fit our world view.

Denying climate change,

Though it stares us in the eye,

Forcing spiritual beliefs

All the while claiming discrimination,

Sloughing off cries of racism

Because admission would make us something less than human.

I see no light amongst the living–

Only more of the same driven by greed and selfishness.

If we are to be rescued it will be by a new guard,

One untainted by our perverted values,

One born with the humanity, the selflessness, the courage

To eradicate the filth that pollutes this planet

With their bastardized vision of God

And their gluttonous appetite for money.

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

More Cold Than The Season (Sonnet)

More cold than the season could possibly express,

Hangs in the air and the hearts of man.

We speak not of atrocities, we’d rather repress

Waged against others by their brother’s hand.

.

Considering ourselves a civilized sort,

Still in prejudice and intolerance we stand.

Giving no venue for them to retort

In what with affection we call the promised land.

.

This promise so cruel–seems held for the few

While the rest us are left to our own devices

The whip of the wealthy cracks to tame the shrews

While living high amongst their golden vices

.

Inequalities based on race, creed and color exist no matter how we wish them to fade,

Persisting throughout the years, not because we are right, but instead because we are afraid.

.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~