Just Most of Us

They work in rice paddies and fields of corn,
Torn by thickets and briars, born to work;
They raise their families and face calamities
Without any formalities or plush royalties;
They write, fight for survival, nothing trite,
And give thanks for food and scant shelter
Amid the helter-skelter of life in this world;
Most are fair, generous, and pray prayers
While living from day to day,
And in no extraordinary way;
Most folk do not spend their time in pubs
And party hubs, drinking to intoxication
For some false elation and sex-sensation;
Most peoples in this harsh world are hurled
Into the fray of life by night,
Looking for the shining light
By which to fight their blight;
They’ve no time to stay ‘n play lurid games;
Their life demands they tame their beasts,
So bars and fancy cars are of least interest;
Tis the simplest joys ‘n beauty that attract,
Not the hubbub of expensive nightclubs —
Shadowy places devoid of any graces,
Dark dens filled with deviant grins —
Most men and women are not meanly vile,
Living in reduction to drunken seduction;
Most hearts strive for the better part of life,
Even life so very rife with pain ‘n suffering,
Buffering ills with the will to live and work,
And, yes, above all to love family ‘n friends;
Ah! Yes, these constitute the most of us,
Most of us on earth for what we are worth,
And in nothing to boast . . . just most of us
Just most of us

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