The Underdog

Height and depth are contrary points,
One prejudiced against the other,
As contempt and contemptible greed.
To look down upon someone,is easier
Than to look up in awe,or admiration.
The neck makes naughty moves,
To neutralize shift in perceptions.
Only politics stoops low,to pick up
The low lying,for a boost of its image.
The poor habitually look up for alms 
Rather than arms,that lift them up 
From the pit of their brokered pains.
Freebies deepen the pit to widen the gap,
Between the giving and receiving arms.
Power prefers not,the coming together of arms,
Paring the ease of its seat,by a few peelers.
The cries of the poor are a cake walk for rulers,
Whose steps are measured in terms of the tears,
That do not melt their hearts,but mull their greed.
Even among the underdogs,there are upper dogs,
Who bark bravely,but wag their tails for fringe gains.
They weed out their wailing counterparts,to the margin.
Underdog norms form the undercurrent of power games,
That defeat the understanding core of the underprivileged.
Where the sheep fend for themselves with paper and plastic,
The shepherd funds his fouling fodder games,filling his gut.  
The White Revolution wins,winking at its withering livestock.
A shrewd shepherd is one,who grows fat,eating his own flock.
P. Chandrasekaran.