Not a nail of rich’s fingers
are wasted
enameled with gold
And
The poor, tan and toil
their dusty horns
Like a nail
in their coffin –
As silence begins
to settle its uselessness
in the end;
Sans any nailcutter
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Pithy and hard hitting.The ‘divide’ so skilfully projected.
Convincingly conveys a sense of ennui and alienation