Hunger Then, Oppression Now
The ear that listens
is missing.
Injustice and misery
is all this place has to offer
one like myself.
They stole my means,
my children’s bread,
and sleep peacefully in whoredom’s bed,
without contemplation.
Anyway, I was a man in a woman’s world,
and she had to let me know who is the boss.
The same voices that bless you today
will curse you tomorrow.
In a place like this, for one like myself,
happiness is a thing of the past.
Friends, here, are thieves and beggars
looking for something.
I missed standing under the street light
until the cock crows,
and the first light shines
through the coconut grove.
I missed the months, even years, it takes
yearning for that one woman,
and when it finally happens it is magical,
perfectly enchanting.
I treasure the old days when hunger was a close companion;
everything came with blood, sweat and tears.
My God, I missed those years!
I missed watching the swine playing in the mud by the pond.
I missed walking home from work with the rain cascading on my back,
counting the street lamps on that five-mile-trot –
Adelphi to Goodwill.
Around here, they don’t really mean it when they say well done;
it’s just words,
and words mean nothing here,
unless it is gossip.
One day an old lady makes me laugh,
but I forget to thank her;
I should’ve let her know she makes my day.
It is not easy traveling this road with fools pushing rewind.
You never finish a journey with a sigh of satisfaction.
You get a slap in the face,
instead of a pat on the back.
I guess, this is the American dream;
this nightmare gives you no time to react.
Frigid hearts pump cold blood down the same stream,
and smiles fade swiftly,
plastic smiles.
My blessings and theirs …
are taken lightly.
Copyright © Earle Brown | Year Posted 2010
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