relationships

by

chump change…

the brown bag prophet
said
looks like
the white house
is planning
another
sucker punch
to
the america
middle class
and
poor
offering
a thousand dollars
when
even
a single-parent family
in
iowa
needs more
than
3 thousand
if there’s
only
one child
but
i suppose
we could stop
building his wall
at
300,000 thousand
per
mile
and feed
more americans
and
restart the economy
but
then
he and his family
would
have to
stop
receiving
the welfare checks
we provide
from
our
tax dollars

 

by

i wish I had the right words…

words
litter
the graveyard
insincere
candy wrapper phrases
tossed
upon
the
headstones
with
those
laser etched designs
and
preset
engraved
catalogued
expressed emotions
which
when
properly applied
provide
such
a hand finished look
and
of course
the appropriate
level
of
family
love
and
bereavement

 

by

self-preservation…

nothing like love
she
said
this was just
a
convenient
relationship
we
shared
rent
utilities
food
and
such
as well as
a
bed
but
this wasn’t
about
love
tho
he was here
for
the last
ten years
or
so
but
this
still
wasn’t
about
love
did
you know
he
left his wife
for
me
but
he was
old school
catholic
and
wouldn’t divorce
well
couldn’t
since
she wouldn’t agree
this
wasn’t
about
love
but
he
cried
when
i
died
no
this
wasn’t
about
love
it
was about
two
becoming
one

 

 

by

wearer beware…

there were
oceans
of
dreams
spilling over
my
youthful hours
hours
spent
naively blind
to
to my own
history
and
constrained beliefs
that
social propaganda
applied
to
my
thinking
webs
of
lies
spun
into
history books
and
daily routines
webs
of
deceit
molded
into
invisible
leg irons
lighter
than
air
so
we wearers
were
unaware
of
their presence
but
they
have been
far
more
confining
than
those cast
of
iron
for
if one
controls
the soul
then
there is
no
escape

 

by

editing and proofreading needed…

surely
had the poet
found
the right words
people
would have listened
or
read the words
upon
the page
and
rose up
from
complacency
to feed
a
starving child
or
to shelter
a
fragile soul
from
life’s storms
those
poetic words
that
would give
hearing
to
the deaf
and
sight
to
the blind
surely
had the poet
found
the
right
words
the
right
incantation
dead emotions
would
be
alive
for surely
no
human
could ignore
and
deny
such
basic
needs
of
others
to
exist