Aging Fingers Grasp At The Past

Aging fingers grasp at the past

While winds of change buffet them at every turn.

Quiescence is unnatural,

Steamrolling those that refuse to align.

 

Each generation flavors their water,

Drinking from the fountain of their creation;

Shaping the new world in the vision of the time.

 

Neither we nor our Constitution were meant to be stagnant,

Fluidity is what protects us, what progresses us.

We must put aside our antiquated notions of the past,

For as society evolves, we too are obliged to evolve,

Lest we die as a nation and as a people.

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

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Hail To The King

We are living in a land of broken dreams and promises,

Those with means, rush to deny what should be obvious to the rest,

Ha! It’s the Land of Opportunity, for whom I ask?

Common is it for the common man to grow then stagnate,

Trapped in the tracks of his caste.

Not for lack of desire, but of meaningful opportunity.

Crawling up and up only to find the steps paved in jagged glass,

Barefooted from birth we are cut and scarred with each step,

No red carpet nor ivory towers lay in wait.

Instead pittances to pacify the masses are offered to give hope,

Promises that they too are worthy of abundance,

These promises ring hollow…leaving us with the taste of sand,

While the oligarchy scoffs from their luxurious boardrooms.

Cries to the state offer little relief,

As they themselves are counted amongst the elite,

Leaving the rest to scrounge for scraps in their rubbish heaps.

This was not the promise of this once great nation,

Old money, family money, dynasties, unfettered corporatism…greed!

Safeguards dreamt by the founders have been tilled and buried,

Bastardized by modern men with corrupt ideals.

Shall we once again embrace…

The monarchy!

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Unalike at Birth

Credit - csmonitor.com

Credit – csmonitor.com

By D. R. DiFrancesco

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I ran the race, but tripped and fell,

The starter’s pistol heard clear as a bell.

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They say we start out as equals its true,

Sadly the shortest of fates straws I drew.

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The field is not level, its slanted you see,

The caste at your birth influences who you will be.

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Yes this can change its not written in stone,

You’ll have to push harder and higher alone.

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Your families old money makes for a pre-made man

While I scratch and I claw doing all that I can.

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As I’m running my race I can see you ahead,

Getting farther and farther from the path that I tread.

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You claim we are the same from conception to birth,

My mother cleans houses, what’s your Daddy’s net worth.

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The systems unfair, some say evil and cruel,

Treating those of less fortune as inconvenient and worthless fools.

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Because you say this is not so does not make it true,

I work as hard if not harder than many of you do.

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Still I live paycheck to paycheck without a spare dime,

Hoping and praying someday good fortune in turn will be mine.

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I would change my condition if only time would allow,

But with work, home, and family to their pressures I must bow.

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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.

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How dare you proclaim that this system is fair,

From your ivory towers, sprawling mansions, and mountain top lairs.

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Remember there are those far less fortunate than you,

Born without the golden slipper, silver spoon our betterment you subdue.

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I look forward to the day when in my shoes you must walk,

Maybe then you’ll show compassion and stifle harsh talk.

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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.