Translated by Gary Pansey

Ridiculing Social Status

In Their Proper Places

First come officials
And then of course their boss,
Next come the famous
With so much dough to toss;

Bodyguards hold down the fort,
Execs and doctors fare well,
Phony beggars in every port,
Lap dancers crowd the stairwell;

But last and least are you and me,
Who suffer so incessantly.

Who Really Has What

The elderly scholars all trust in God,
Hardworkers at times may just get the nod,
Officials have power to use and abuse
While peasants work land yet still can’t choose,
But the big bucks belong to just who?
The scammers and loafers, not you!

How Hard the Road

The political path is a pleasant green lawn,
The businessman’s path is rosy like dawn,
But the teacher must hoe throughout the long day,
And in gloom make headway with society’s fray.

Paraphrasing Marx

The wages of workers are paid when they work;
The cadres live high just when they smirk.

 

Read the original from the Epoch Times.

The above poems are all by anonymous writers.

 


NOTE: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who disrespects you. Simply send an email to mbryant@classicalpoets.org. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Please see our Comments Policy here.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.