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.

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.

Plight of the Homeless

By D. R. DiFrancesco

Shadow people abound,

Faceless and nameless they inhabit our streets,

Forgotten amongst the urban sound,

Left to stifle in summer’s heat.


Shadow people trapped,

Passed by like trash littering the walkway,

Feeble hands outstretched for scraps,

Passersby strain to look away.


Shadow people lost,

Beaten down by an iron fist,

Society tries to subdue them at any cost,

Acting as though they don’t exist.


Shadow people remain,

Vagrants, homeless, bums, call them what you will,

Put a hand out to ease their strain,

Comfort and humanity and faith instill.


Shadow people no more,

Take them in, in body and soul,

End the battle of class; end the poverty of war,

Lift them up, our brothers and sisters, their urgency behold.

With Privilege Comes Corruption

Think about this often

How petty we have become

Money, power, the big house; is this really important?

Money distorts,

Power corrupts,

The big house…a symbol of unnecessary opulence.

Those of unlike kind are frowned upon,



A drain on the system,

Is this what we have become?

Those with means holding us hostage,

Our station in life seals our fate,

Threatening to exterminate ones less fortunate,

All in the name of progressing their adgenda.

Civility and compassion tossed aside like so many feathers to the wind,

Cast out as unimportant,

So unnecessary in this capitalist system,

The needs of the few eclipse those of the many.

Talking heads and bureaucrats tow the line,

Telling us that this is our foundation,

Lies and deceit disguise their motives,

Their pockets lined with fools gold.

Still they profit at societies expense,

And we buy in to the hollow rhetoric,

Smiling and clapping as they spew their bile,

Blind to the parade marching to it’s own demise.

Our representation sold for profit,

With wealth comes power and the rise of aristocracy,

This was not the proclivity of our fathers,

Yet we watch it happen with hardly a noise.

Is this what is desired or desirable?

It can’t be…it mustn’t be our expectation,

Like mice we scurry away from that which is distasteful,

Rise up, speak up, demand your just due,

Tenacity in numbers can rejuvenate our future,

Forcing the tyrants to bow to our intentions.