poetry

Poverty’s Lead

Sharpest Perception a Road Less Traveled

​

Vile dismissal of brilliant gifts,

intolerance to sort through a community’s rift.

A stench that permeats 30 miles through lead-based water’s, hell,

another crime scene witnessed,

in which no one tells.

Each corner hold’s a bordago,

with an agenda to cheapen a binge,

while begging vagabond’s B.O.

gets stuck in mid air, as passerbys laugh and cringe.

New found hermit’s fear being victimized,

into a robber’s awaiting chance,

while poor donors, meet demise by a black market Governmentally enhanced.

The street of poverty,

she greets you to chew you up, swallowing your pride whole,

armed with a welcome mat and switchblade,

to proceed in cutting your throat.

Invested in every block’s rut,

as her appetite spits out hollowed carcasses,

but once digesting all the guts.

Chopping away lives,

into small defeated pieces,

while the matriarch of each family,

bows down on bended knee,

crying out to Jesus.

Finding unethical…

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