Ghetto Noise
If I slip the vernacular off
You can lift the dress of words
And see: no where is better than our yard
A sort of bragging rights
To the belief that there is no problem here
I believed that too, once
How the barefooted children, pants
Bottom split and mooning the world
Carried hunger with cool and swagger
And went from street to street laughing
Wreckessly in the cloudy afternoon.
Nothing else here gives away much
When the trees were starving for new rain
But the music made me think again
Everything unspoken is chronicled there
In the blaring noise pouring
From every rickety pore and mock palace
Where their shrivelled life find grace
Where trouble's white eyes meet the skies
From the memory submerged in noise
A care-free observation could miss this point
The role the noise plays
Fogging the urge to burn joint and place
A better construct on the suppression of pain
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