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7th September Song (a hunger poem)

Hunger in America


This is the story of hunger, the story of famine.

This is the final story to be carved in stone. A story told by men without fear. A story told by brave and honorable men lining the streets with their hands out. A story retold by those that walked by, pockets jangling with an icy swagger. A story retold by men with cars and money motivated by the sounds of a private freedom locked safely inside tomorrow.
A story walking inside us, a story walking by, shrugging, as if to say, “No. Not today, pal.” Nodding, as if to guarantee, “Next week.”

Our noshed tongues waggle without end, leftovers tossed like dice in an alley.

This is our story of hunger, our story of famine.


© 2009 mrp/thepoetryman
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Comments

  1. MandTSeptember 7, 2009 at 1:54 AM

    Namaste-friend-- Thank you from MandT.

    ReplyDelete
  2. thepoetrymanSeptember 7, 2009 at 2:49 AM

    "Namaste"... No need for any of that from my friends. :>)

    It's really good to see M and T.

    ReplyDelete
  3. ChimpSeptember 7, 2009 at 6:30 PM

    - Only In America



    Only in America
    Can a guy from anywhere
    Go to sleep wealthy and wake up a pauper

    Only in America
    Can a kid with a rich family
    Get broken and grow up to be a bum

    Only in America
    Land of opportunity, yeah
    Wouldn’t a classy girl like you fall for a poor bum like me

    Only in America
    Can a kid who's washin' cars
    Take a giant step and reach right up and touch the dumpster for his next meal

    Only in America
    Could a dream like this come true
    Could a guy like me start with nothing and end up with less

    ReplyDelete
  4. thepoetrymanSeptember 16, 2009 at 3:30 PM

    Chimp,
    Nice.

    ReplyDelete

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