How we can bristle up at almost nothing <br />Is more proof, of the barbed-wire sinew'd bone, <br />Born hollow-core, and likewise brutal-hone; <br />Vexing the babe and degree'd man, both alike- <br />While our civility stays out on loan. <br /> <br />How we gladly roll in the dust, before becoming <br />Just more dust, that on empty roads is running, <br />As the feathers fly, and our jack-boot feet are drumming- <br />Until we're old- and in grey streets, <br />Lifes blood's running. <br /> <br />The world driven on by willpower's all we know, <br />And though there's kings, that a king's-ransom only buy, <br />On homeless ones, there's colder winds will blow; <br />But they still see blue skies, till the last day of life- <br />No money no power no degree then, to tell us why.<br /><br />Patti Masterman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-dust-you-shake-off-your-shoes-is-other-men/
