The thoughts, opinions, poetry, and everything in between from an avid student of all forms of literature.
Monday, December 30, 2013
"Trick Mirrors"
"Trick Mirrors"
Knuckles made of brass And the past that I slept on. Girls who grew up fast Want the men that they crept on. Blast from the past. Buckshot from the future. Gain financial aid But the governor abused her. Sum of the slums Equivalent to the navy. Can't deny Brenda's baby. Dad's name was Marcus, maybe…… Lady draped in red. Tattoos to her ankles. Can't seem to stay fed but you can't miss her navel. Thank God for W.I.C. And the welfare assistance. Four letters spell F.E.M.A. Acronym for the resistance. Chose politicians but we can't spell their names. Created this system Just to cast more blame. Bolster the backlash. Protect the last stash With what remains of your life. Starve you child. Beat your wife. Brag about the struggle Like the frat and sorors. Outline the maligned After plotting out the scars. Death after last breath. Meth and the pistol. Land ruled over jewels And thick women named Krystal. Blood on the pavement. Tears in her eyes. We race to the scene But won't respond to her cries.
Long walks initiated on streets. Downwards spiral of deliberate fashion Fashioned to forge forks in the road. Penitentiary perdition or deadly destitute. Truth told to closed hearts And ears that widen selectively. Collectively protesting another's roots Whilst clinging to the stoop. Rarely bread and fruit but surely loose cigarettes and loot From those we spitefully purport While we sit on the porch. Proud to be until we Encounter one who can't see How one wouldn't grasp at straws. We mask our flaws in mockery. No support for the survivor. Those who make it out Face our groundless doubt Because they aren't what we're about. The crab and the barrel brimming over. Spilling over. Those fortunate to grow older Wish their younger days were sober. Somber feeling with no healing. Dealing with the lowered ceiling pressed against new generations. Never ending conversations. Persecute them for their music. How that wear it. How they do it. Disgusting gyration movement But no basis for improvement. Parents left to wonder why. Scrape acceptance. Smear the lies. Damned to disgrace and defile. Fuel for copious denial. Toil and trial in self defense. Intermingle with the fence. Still a month behind on rent. Pitching fits as wide as tents. Fifty dollars in your purse. There was more before the thirst. Can't afford the change in price But each first sip feels so nice. No ice. No milk. No care. Broken barrettes in their hair. Skin so shiny, smooth and fair. Not your daughter. Wouldn't dare. Not unless you're there to see. Not where you thought you would be. Gave your future to their father. He truly couldn't be further From the angry son who chose to put back on those same clothes and take risks on crowded corners. Addict mother hugs the corner. Lost her before he was twelve. Keeps her picture on the shelves high enough for him to reach Cash from the last deal he breached. Teach the preacher. Predict time. Find it all amid the rhyme. Reason washes nothing clean If one will not change the scene.
So much made of class and the time that we slept on. Flowers wither fast Only after they are stepped on.
You always have a knack for touching on those subjects that need....but in a way that one wouldn't even know you were talking to them. Beautifully written my friend.
Recently joined up on http://poetryzoo.com/ I hope you join me there too. So I can swoon over your words there since I'm not around on Blogger much anymore.
*speechless*
ReplyDeleteYou always have a knack for touching on those subjects that need....but in a way that one wouldn't even know you were talking to them. Beautifully written my friend.
Recently joined up on http://poetryzoo.com/
I hope you join me there too. So I can swoon over your words there since I'm not around on Blogger much anymore.
Happy New Year my poetic friend!