keys drumming rare morning lazy humming odd whispers open chain urge ghosts
Chains and Mud
They know, of course,
That their good life
Is supported by those
Living in chains and mud—
But somewhere else.
Those living in chains and mud
And the ghosts of those
Who preceded them
Keep the machines
Running, humming along.
Money machines.
It has always been so.
On the rare occasions
Of friction, with radicals
Drumming up dissent,
Urging rebellion,
The barons dub them lazy
In pointed editorials.
Should those below
Wish the odd morning off
The tame press divides them,
Spreads whispers of betrayal,
And trust vanishes.
The chains remain intact.
Those with the keys
To open them
Have no intention
Of it being otherwise.
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Good strong political poetry. Well depicted, strong imagery.
ReplyDeleteThe imagery is vivid, and the narration feels timeless. I believe this expresses one of humanity’s enduring truths: some people build their comfort on the blood, tears, and sweat of others.
ReplyDelete