The Poor Die On The Floor , The Elite Get A Seat

Posted under Spiritual Poetry by Paul Summerscales

Pens to paper
you sign a name
as the jobs escape you
your always to blame .
The hated , biro
the antiquated , capitolist
power crew
broken fingers clutch a giro
a down town spiral
to no point of view .
Higher education
an attempt to better yourself
through qualification
to a status of some elation .
A rich mans parliament
a grant to insult
it just say pays the rent
your food knife is .
never blunt
They dont care if you can’t eat
or if you die on the mud paved street
they’re only interested in the elite .
these felines rule all of everything
if I was a songbird
I would’nt sing
theres a hole in every shoe
they utilise
then criticise
they’re out to destroy you .

Last 5 posts by Paul Summerscales

• The Robin Life Quest - February 2nd, 2010
• Unique - February 2nd, 2010
• Unique - February 2nd, 2010
• Untidy Paper - February 2nd, 2010
• Vampyre - February 2nd, 2010