Tag Archives: poverty

Slumlord

 

 

Reworking my resume, tripping through previous job experiences:

 

 

craftsman porch

 

Where businesses are boarded up the body bled

on tree lined streets dreamers have fled

small wooden homes line avenues in decay

and those who can’t dream are condemned to stay

 

On a craftsman porch ghosts of forgotten children playing

hear the tinkle of keys drifting through open curtains

in the background of memories piano concertos wafting

while down in the streets

real children with guns play a dangerous game

between gangsta-rap beats instigating

 

A row of cars circle a house on the corner

prison bars on windows and doors

on the porch a man in a suit of armor studies

broken concrete sidewalk weeds rising through cracks

where junkies stand in line waiting on snow

and I’m here seeking my fair share of the dough

inside a card table and folding chair for décor

paid in sweaty bills from the pocket stash of a whore

 

At another house not far away

I arrived without delay

Neighborhood Association busted down your door

stole your crystal and so much more

dried crimson streaks across the floor

evidence of the final minutes for you and your girl

indescribable horror screaming

in the silence of a stain

indescribable horror still screaming

as I helped the King’s Men fill out the report

 

On another street not far from here

earning my pay while admitting no fear

three months had passed without word

so I put your worldly possessions out on the curb

trick of irony you appeared

as the last of your things walked away

snarling teeth spitting in my face

would have killed me if you could

the duties of my job you misunderstood

Candy Man

From The Evolution of Disconnect:

356 - Copy

A sea of people in the streets with nowhere to go

homeless crack heads winos prostitutes and bums

colored by despair

tones of charcoal grey filtering

hope a distant light generated

from some other far away sun not reaching this world

dreams deflated by reality

so many dead eyed men surrounding

closing in

smothering

an ocean of charcoal grey tones storming

wave after wave crashing down

Deep into the concrete forest I ventured

graffiti on ramshackle shacks warning

bars on windows and doors symbolizing

desperation of men wanting

this territory of men forgotten

deep into this concrete forest I ventured

this place the king’s men refused to enter

heard the report from the shotgun blast

saw your soul splattered on a chevron wall

hung my head and whispered a prayer

down in the streets praying a sinner’s prayer

When the flood came you had my back

warning of plots from the graveyard hoard

those dead-eyed men conspiring

as the river crested over urban streets

.357 at a beggars head

clinging to the final dime-bag in your hand

ten-dollar whore on her knees behind a drugstore

overworked lips cracked with sores

cheat a man at dice over on Pine and you’ll get a pint

upside the head

liquor store pavement stained red

by the blood of a man who tried to make a difference

but Satan is the wind whispering your name

‘cause god already fled this scene

and I’ve witnessed too much to ignore the code

when another man has my back do what I can

to satisfy his needs for reward

so I offered up a square

and he walked away dancing without remorse

Down the road beneath a charcoal grey steeple deeply scarred

bars on windows and locked doors

providing safety from beasts roaming the hood

children found shelter

good people fulfilling a mission

to preserve the light in children’s eyes for as long as they can

anxiously waiting for my truck every Wednesday at two

and when I entered the room with hands full

all the children smiled and cheered

the candy man is here!

the candy man is here!