John Wren*

Look into my eyes:
Hard, Cold, Absolute.

A hunger, and no feeling,
Gnaws away behind there.

Born out of poverty;-
I know Human Nature,
Much better than you.

Enemy of the Toff**
Enemy of the Political Class.

I will organise Racing;-
And I will do it on my own terms.

Don't cross me:

Do it once;- I'll warn you;-
Do it twice;- then be afraid.

© lovecanbereal
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Oct 2017
About this poem:
* John Wren (1871-1953): Labour Party Powerbroker, and underworld figure. Owner of racetracks, and Boss of the "Collingwood Tote" (Melbourne).

** Toff: The upper-class "showoff" male.

Poems entered on these pages are copyrighted by the authors who entered them. They cannot be reproduced without the author's written consent. © Copyright 2001-2022. All rights reserved.

This Poem doesn't allow comments

The member has chosen to disable comments for this Poem.
Report Abuse for this page, if inappropiate
We use cookies to ensure that you have the best experience possible on our website. Read Our Privacy Policy Here