Unseen
vanishing, thin-skinned, blood-bone,
broken-token people
pokin' while invokin'
spoken and unspoken words
that slap at fat-back pimps
gone insane on cocaine rain;
bendin' over, slippin in,
pasty, wasted,
hurtin' urchins of the street:
The spawn of dawn's humanity
in feral peril dark despair -
not flimsy freeway-floaters flying by
or bee-bop preachers preachin' pestilence
at midnight,
in the quantified prophetics
of poetic Hebrew quatrain prophecy.
Midnight's
wailin' siren song
is singin' loud and long -
trauma centers crowded
once again
cautiously collecting
violated victims
from another vicious night of viral pain.
Garbage
burstin' forth from bins at dawn!
Hop-head harlot's humpin' dumpsters,
lappin' scraps
and bastin' wasted bellies,
fillin' up their cup of human loss.
Crazy
little Lizzy
wants to gather
gormet goodies
at the bottom of the bin
but squirmy wormys feed and feast
on every minute morsel
of her promissory sin
and leave our little Lizzy
lying foul and very dizzy;
another broken-token braying like a beast.
Polished
flash on badges worn
by those who promise to protect
are looked upon with scathing scorn
by prophets of the street who must reject
the tarnished badges bred and born
of bureaucratic magic called neglect.
A sad street view being played out a thousand times over in cities all over the world. The picture you paint here is not just an American tune, it's being sung in alleys in Mumbai, Sao Paulo, Istanbul, and Changdu.
Both these poems have made me think, Tom. Thanks for sharing them with us.
Les
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 01/19/2011 01:52AM by les712.