Val Brooklyn Rogers Blk Panther Poet Prose

On Behalf of the People

On behalf of the people of these United States. 
Now we are barren, a waste land.
We beg for scraps with aching bellies.
For we have nothing.

Now let us hold hands to keep us steady on
Our feet.
If we are destitute then we must cry out and
Reach for the hand of God.
When we grow desperate we will seek the 
Hand of a deceased relative, or
The offerings of foreigners who have pity?

What have we become?  Once a proud and
Prosperous nation.  Now pass the time in the
Dark halls of SORROW with molded bread.
What used to be just a  NIGHTMARE has 
Come to keep misery company.

Bare Shelves haunt every supermarket.
Institutions have closed their doors
Permanently.  Who will accept our
Grievances when POLICE ARE out of 
Business.  

Where is the lonesome shoulder to lean on?
My bowl is still empty on the floor.  The 
Table broke last week. Waiting for a morsel.
Now I have fear of fear.  I have seen others 
Like me walking in a trance with ghostly 
Expressions.

I am delirious from hunger. I shiver from 
Cold and malnutrition and memories sent
From long ago. 
In my refrigerator only spoiled milk.
Food truck late again my friend, my friend.
Who can help us now with our beaten brow,
And a belly ache we can't shake.

Dollar quarter. A little girl begged at the corner
With all the effort she had. Nickel dime please,
Please. She kept crying.
ON BEHALF OF THE PEOPLE IN THESE UNITED
STATES..... 
GOD HELP US ALL.

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