poetry

Poverty’s lead

Sharpest Perception a Road Less Traveled

Vile dismissal of brilliant gifts, 

intolerance to sort through a community rift.

A stench that permeats 30 miles through hell, 

another crime scene witnessed, 

in which, no one tells.

Each corner hold’s a bordago’s agenda, to cheapen a binge, 

while the stench of begging panhandlers’

 is stuck in mid-air, passerbys laugh and cringe.

Hermit’s fear being victimized, 

into a robber’s, waiting chance,

while poor donors, meet demise by black market’s funded, by Government hands.

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 the hollowed carcass, 

once digesting all the guts.

Chopping away lives, into small defeated pieces, 

while the matriarch of each family, 

stays down, crying out to Jesus.  

Finding unethical ways inside an infested ghetto, greasing up…

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