Arise prose poem

Photo by danny blkspr

Whilst bequeathed
are the grasping wealthy
with pilfered, false grandeur,
plundered and encumbered
are droves of working poor…..

As the rancid wind
of wrongness rages
and fiercely blusters
in your faces,
arise, my brethren, arise,
effect its due demise,
for benumbed you’ve been for ages….
arise, ye battered, arise.

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