Poetry: Consequences in Recession Time
Tired and headsore
You wait and stare wearily at the door,
For some stranger creaking up the stairs,
Another mother peddling wares
In new apartments by the quays.
Driven to slavery by dropping fees
She’s thirty-eight, a mother of three;
Poverty, inequality- chained by criminals free.
—–
Bruised and broken,
Your wheelchair and medal scant token
Of governmental gratitude for duty done,
While they steal the future [...]






