NO PITY NO SHAME


NO PITY NO SHAME

A swirl of debris laden wind
circles the half dead figure
atop the hissing steam vent.

People in a hurry pass by without
as much as a glance or a frown.
Life on the street ain't the golden road.

In a city without pity or shame
the disenfrancised exist in the margins
praying for deliverance or death.

All our upheld values, of independence
self-sufficiency, a classless democracy
fail miserably to shield the helpless.

Soup kitchens feed the few, but charity
comes at a price. It's a retail reality
after all that laughs at the dispossessed.

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