The
proof
is
in
the
pudding,
but
I
don’t
eat
pudding.
So,
shit.
Home » Posts tagged 'people' (Page 46)
Tag Archives: people
Broken Men, Broken Women
Good men
Are broken
By broken women
Born of broken mothers
By broken fathers
Who’ve broken
Good women
In cold blood.
It’s people
who feel invisible
that do
the most heinous things,
and nobody
ever seems to know
who, what, where, when
or why such things could be done,
until after the fact
when there’s enough
evidence
to write a book in cold blood.
I Voted
For what exactly
I am not sure
But today I voted
I voted for people who unlike I
Have power
Power to make a difference
Power to make a change
Power to exercise our rights
As a community of working people
We have power
I have power
And you have power
For what exactly
I am not sure
Until tomorrow
VOTE!
Updates, Headaches, and Suppertime
The more my browser
tells me it’s out of date
the more, out of date
I feel. Perhaps
it’s time for an update.
Perhaps, it’s time for a meal.
Start Digging
If you’re stuck in a hole,
remember:
Nobodies going to help you
longer than it pays.
Minimum wage doesn’t mean
livable wage.
And chances are,
they’re also knee deep.
So start digging.
As they wonder.
We
don’t
genuinely
love
the stranger
on the corner,
on the television,
at work,
on the daily news.
We
get
used
to them
like they
get used to us,
to being liked,
to being lied to,
to being accepted.
We
wonder
why they
have it so good,
why we can’t quite get it straight,
why the stranger
on the corner, can’t get his act together,
why the camera’s won’t turn off,
we wander as they wonder.
As they wander, we wonder.
I know you know what I don’t know.
I don’t know
which crushes my spirit more,
the heroin needles
outside my apartment building
or
the line of Ray-Ban wearing tourists
waiting for brunch.
I don’t know.
I
just
don’t
know.
It’s too early to be tired and I’m tired again.
It’s
too
early
to
be
tired
and
I’m
tired
again.
Not
the
I’ve
been
on
my
feet
all
day
tired.
No.
It’s
that
special
kind
of
tired
we
don’t
dare
speak.
It’s
the
reason
we
stand
all
day
on
our
feet.
Yes.
It’s
that
special
kind
of
truth
we
work
so
hard
to
forget.
Until
we
remember,
no
longer
able
to
sleep.
A memory upon Mt. Whitney
Heavy
cologne
and
cigarette
smoke
are
gifts
from
the
city,
of
the
people,
seated
in
the
laundromat.
I remember it vividly.
Fresh
pine
sun
kissed
trail
the
gifts
from
the
forest,
of
the
land,
seated
upon
Mt.
Whitney.
I remember it vividly.
Sharing
a shot
with
Alex.
Words Of An Average White Male 