With wealth, the likes of Helen’s Troy,
There are these few that think they’re coy;
They seem so modest, but I warn,
Their modesty is but a ploy.
They hung two ‘thieves’ the other morn —
In fact, the day my son was born.
Their crime: some stolen fruit, some grain…
Two homeless, hungry men forlorn.
I felt indignant, bitter pain,
As I stood watching through the rain:
“If I were starving, like these two,
Would I steal food… and thus be slain?
Who knows how many men they slew-
But here is this, and this is true:
That if they touched my starving son
I’d grab a sword and run them through!
For by their greed their wealth was won…
My wherewithal? – it’s next to none.
Those evil few, so fatly fed,
Impoverished me … and everyone!”
And still the hungry hang there dead,
Condemned by laws those few have said.
And now my hunger has me torn:
Obey their laws … or steal their bread?
Visit John at http://myopicpoets.blogspot.com.
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