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Personal Note:

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Poem



It’s time to flip the free calendar,
loosen the rusty Christmas tree stand screws
Battery’s low on the reindeer car,
boost the spirits with some gift used snowshoes

In these worn out soles try walking a mile or two,
winter chill what it feels like a poor man goes thru
Garbage cans do a slow paper burn of the daily ghetto news,
cold bodies warmed by lead bullets hot chamber ink spewed

When the calendar turns, it seems to go back further each year,
poverty lessons duly learned, crime victims new jacked on fear
Caramel-coated, candied apple cake urban daydreams
waiting for the midnight air chimes to siren icy scream

Unplug the blinking lights cable reality inner-city woes,
bring in the old New Year blues with a celebratory bang-bang
It’s murder she wrote, or so the fabled CSI saying goes;
tossed evergreen suicide note, nothing in the hood ever change

It’s the old New Year festivus blues
coming back around once again
High society toasting medieval rules:
make the poor grovel and bend

It’s the old New Year holiday blues,
a familiar ... bitter cold wind a-blowing 
Another year of poor house issues,
more bad midnight karaoke barfly-ing

It’s the old New Year festival blues
making the annual rounds once again
Cold champagne popped corkscrews:
the poor forget their pain by partying

It’s the old New Year holiday blues,
same sad refrain of frustrations growing 
Another year of paying poverty dues,
more good mourning heartache singing

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