Your word Your place, Your work Your Mark

No force or strings,

bribes, promises or laws

will keep me from

my stake and claim.

The time has come

for the fight once

feared, now bragged about,

cold is end of the

sad day when you turn to a retreat

more shameful than

the french.

The cities belong

to the pedestrians

but they were usurped 

along with something

called ethics,

and concern for

general will. 

You can pass the 

hours any way you


but only your work

shall be a mark

and only your word

will be your place.


Published by James J Jackson

I'm a poet from California.

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