The Grind
longing
for those buttered hips
sugar coated lips
and sunshine
of a smile
instead you've got
a loosed lipped
swivel necked
finger wagger
that has forgotten
how to smile
could it be
from calamity
that she mistrusts
your
indentured words...
I love you baby
when the tribe of five
cannot frolic in life
because of your
rimshots
at the employment office
so now you think
the streets
are paved with gold
but
you only pull dust
out of your pocket
from midnight panning
you've been
skinned alive by
the government's 535
that refused to leave
even grit
between your teeth
shoe leather has
become
your every day meat
you whine
you moan
you huff
you puff
thinking your
display
will raise the shade
to a employers brighter day
not understanding
that the world
has deflated back to flat
incense
ten for a dollar
might pave
the way
towards independence
you think
until you realize
it's hard for some
to rub two nickels together
one doesn't look
for smoke
in a quest for fire
reality
like lightening
can knock many
off their feet
but only
the strong
live to tell about it
shouting to heaven
gets drowned out
from the high volume
of turmoil
there is no cuts
in the long line
of the needy
don't step over
the weary
or slip past
those left behind
all men
are brothers
in the pot
where blood boils
light appears
at the end
of a tunnel
unless
it's a dead end
either chisel
or blast the way out
darkness
requires
the eyes of a cat
(c) Chenyelu Bomani
Poem of the Day is a spotlight on Liberated Muse poets found on our site LiberatedMuse.com. This is a celebration of April as National Poetry Month. Find all featured poets on LiberatedMuse.com
longing
for those buttered hips
sugar coated lips
and sunshine
of a smile
instead you've got
a loosed lipped
swivel necked
finger wagger
that has forgotten
how to smile
could it be
from calamity
that she mistrusts
your
indentured words...
I love you baby
when the tribe of five
cannot frolic in life
because of your
rimshots
at the employment office
so now you think
the streets
are paved with gold
but
you only pull dust
out of your pocket
from midnight panning
you've been
skinned alive by
the government's 535
that refused to leave
even grit
between your teeth
shoe leather has
become
your every day meat
you whine
you moan
you huff
you puff
thinking your
display
will raise the shade
to a employers brighter day
not understanding
that the world
has deflated back to flat
incense
ten for a dollar
might pave
the way
towards independence
you think
until you realize
it's hard for some
to rub two nickels together
one doesn't look
for smoke
in a quest for fire
reality
like lightening
can knock many
off their feet
but only
the strong
live to tell about it
shouting to heaven
gets drowned out
from the high volume
of turmoil
there is no cuts
in the long line
of the needy
don't step over
the weary
or slip past
those left behind
all men
are brothers
in the pot
where blood boils
light appears
at the end
of a tunnel
unless
it's a dead end
either chisel
or blast the way out
darkness
requires
the eyes of a cat
(c) Chenyelu Bomani
Poem of the Day is a spotlight on Liberated Muse poets found on our site LiberatedMuse.com. This is a celebration of April as National Poetry Month. Find all featured poets on LiberatedMuse.com
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