Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+ |
Custom Search
|
|
||||
Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 02-June 19:37:13 AEST | ||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
Array
(
[sid] => 136452
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Social Class
[time] => 2007-08-03 11:50:48
[hometext] => About the ever-widening division between the middle and the upper classes.
[bodytext] => My hands are worked to blood and bone, I'm weary and I long for home, The sweat ebbs down by sun burnt face, If it kills me, I'll be replaced. I lift and run with all my might, And damn by working class birthright, With cuts and bumps and bruise and aches That can't be healed with what I make. I live to work I can't deny, Have little choice, I must get by. Wake and work and eat and sleep, I break my back and then I weep. While my boss boards a chartered flight, As cash rolls in, it's his birthright. My long days get him cars and wine Becausehis father's richer than mine. God bless America. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 168 [topic] => 41 [informant] => BobbyZimmerman [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => political )
|