Thursday, September 5, 2013



Insult wounded, my character's impinged
By the pervasive ignorance of class.
Without wealth, persons are deemed inferior,
No matter their accomplishments or pride :

True grit begins by lifting sleepy heads,
Drawn from deep contented sleep, alertness.
Light brightens pigments, breezes carry sounds,
Heart rate rises, lungs draw more oxygen :

Up and out into the concrete jungle.
Of women born, as is all young conceived.
Field level, but birth right looms very large,
Ancestral wealth demands its tilt, its place.

Upon the bed of death, leveling stirs ;
Huge casket or none, flesh to dust, occurs.

Ronald C. Downie

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