A poem for those who suffer under the weight of economic oppression

I wrote this poem after watching a couple of homeless people fight over some scraps they dug from a trash bin. They stared me down as I walked passed them with indignation yet almost seeking my permission. I dedicate it to everyone who lives under the shackles of economic oppression…

Give me your blessing and I’ll be on my way

Why should I scrape the

bottom of the barrel

wishin’ and hopin’

for a morsel to eat

when you live and breathe

within opulent air.

Give me your blessing

and I’ll be on my way

 

I accept the smile

sneaking across my face

it feels good to watch

the streets take back what’s ours

from your overstuffed

fat, bloated, wretchedness.

 Give me your blessing

and I’ll be on my way

 

Ain’t no marionette

to dance at your whim

you ain’t my confessor

wedge your penance up yours

I will live and breathe

and fuck your permission.

 Give me your blessing

and I’ll be on my way

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s