Email Poem

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Poem

Funny how some come to this land
smiling-humble and wide-eyed
attracted by the lady 
with gentle flame in her hand.

Then while they build their fine home
on a pricey piece of land.
They start listening to the dregs..
blue cymbals start banging
inside their heads.
They begin to dig a mind hole
for each car they've bought
for each fancy pair of shoes.
Another spade fills with dirt
and deeper in the mind hole they go.
Into the darkness of perceived oppression
the wide eyes narrow
not a hint of humble to be found.

Another spade slices deeper
stripes of anger and hate
replace that once smiling face.

From the pulpit 
through a stained glass window
of their fine home
to the vanity license plate
they bark loudly about oppression.
How everything is stacked against them
there's a constant riot in their head
The mind hole deepens and widens...
a place where sunlight has no chance.

The real tragedy of it all 
is they hand the spade over to their children-

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