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Rated: E · Poetry · Political · #2269242
It is a poem about a dying economy; the mood of the poem changes from heaven to bitter.
VOICE OF THE POOR

Up and down the city street,

slowly moves the rich's fleet.

And patriots on their bare feet

trek from horizons and yonder.

Battling with terrain, they ponder

the distance to cover, and wander

and wander with wonder as they break

obstacles that curtain the twinkling skyscraper peak

They creep into the noisy heart of the city, weary and weak

The folks' hearts are loaded guns awaiting to explode with rage

Their mouth froth and mutter dozens of frozen war words. Rage!

For the country's economy was fat but now... the great damage!

The president must account for the corruption; the frogmarch

The knockdown; the throttle, and the pull and push which

the nations suffer, or the civilian give a counterpunch

to the regime that harbours economic prowlers.

The economy is loved a bushel and a peck



By Poetcook (Peter Kilonzo)



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