One Mans Waste the Creators Gift

White trash, or black trash they say how do you not
know that he isn't white, black or red, you his treasure
you to the depths of sea he would go for you his
forlorn child, you he thinks of poor know your not
it isn't good to have all the peals and diamonds 
or money toil isn't is good for the Golden years
you have done nothing he has seen before you
can't shock him, my child or adult, to come so
far to say Hi to earth, he had nothing, you
are no ones trash but his gift. Happy brithday
to all his orphans and merry verily he says
happy hoildays of all cultures.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2007

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace