Rents Poems

Real Eyes, Real Lies

Real eyes see truth where the neon dies,
real lies get sold in the tourist guides.
I realize Harlem’s still beating inside,
though condos creep up and the rents multiply.

Real highs in the drums on a Saturday night,
real cries in the dark when the bills get tight.
Surreal eyes dream past the gentrified scene,
where bodegas were kingdoms and the block was a queen.

Reel lies keep playing on the subway wall,
but real ties still gather when the elders call.
I realize Harlem’s a poem, a hymn,
no matter who’s moving out or who’s moving in.

Real eyes catch the cracks in the concrete,
real lies get whispered where the landlords meet.
I realize Harlem ain’t sleeping—it fights,
its pulse in the corner, its soul in the nights.

Real highs in the jazz spilling out of a door,
real cries when the system don’t love us no more.
Reel lies keep spinning on a flashing screen,
but surreal eyes still guard the unseen.

Real ties in the roots of this sacred ground,
real wise in the stories the elders pass down.
I realize Harlem’s not fading away—
it’s stitched in my blood, it’s here to stay.

Bad Habit

"Holey all over,
seen better days,
worn out and threadbare,
can't mend its ways,
with drink spills and food stains,
rips, rents and tears,
not worth keeping,
a sad state of affairs,
its time has come,
over and done,
that's one bad habit,”
so said the nun.

Aimless roam

There was a day, I lost my way,
Then I was young back in the day,
I enjoyed that my aimless roam.
Though I was many miles from home.
I bothered less about the tears,
How my absence would've caused fears ~
In the minds of my peers and rents;
Though deep in my soul it torments.

When hunger finally set in,
Then I knew how stupid I'd been.
By then the day had faded out.
Only the stars could hear my shout.
Though hunger had stolen my voice,
Nothing again made me rejoice.
Then someone flashed a light so bright ~
Last thing I remembered that night.

HELP US

Inflation keeps on rising it never seems to stop
food prices going up in the cheapest shops.

Winter fuel payment stopped for the weak and frail
people who speak out and protest being sent to jail.

Veteran's are sleeping on the streets in the freezing cold
vagrants have no age they are the young and old.

No room in hotel's or hostel's and houses in short supply
can not rent a private house the rents are to high

Doctors over worked nurses in short supply
 no beds on hospital  wards left in corridors where eventually you might die

YOU seem to be hell bent of bringing this country to its knees
JUST STOP LOOK INTO YOUR  CONSCIENCE AND DO SOMTHING PLEASE....

Two Heroes Of Christmas - A Word Morph

Jesus; he is Christ and he’s what Christmas is about
Jests and silly little jokes, some atheists will tout
Tests on shrouds would later prove a little inconclusive.
Tents would be too public for an imminent exclusive
Rents agreed for stabling when the virgin birth was due
Rants from Joseph, “Who’s this man who laid his hands on you?”
Mants inflict the Scot as statue’s eyes in blood do run
Manta rays glide ’neath the waves, where all life had begun
Santa, flies the skies above till Christmas Eve is done




[Mants = Stammers (primarily Scots)]

Footle Fishing

Beware the Sting
beehive 
behave

Confused Snitch
tattled
addled

Test Pilot
explains
X-planes

Under Her Breath
mother
mutter

Rents Trucks
Ryder
rider

Hungry Surveyor
steak sauce
saw stakes

Lower Branch
entry
in tree

Indecisive
know way
no way

Football
which ball
your call

Three Syllable Error
acquire
a choir

Correction With Echo
acquire
choir

Analysis Paralysis
ad hoc
tick-tock 

Match Point Yessssssssss!
tennis
ten s

Choose Wisely
insight
incite

Power of the Pen
Shakespeare
shakes spear

Save the Bees
believe
bees leave

Consumer Greed

They say the root of all evil is money
Taking from everyone with their cunning
I think most Americans would agree
Their having trouble feeding their family

Going to the grocery store is extreme
Charging too much due to greed
Don’t care about the people’s needs
Paying too much to feed the family

Gas prices are through the roof
Making it expensive to go to work
Work from home if you can
To survive you need a plan

The cost of living is destroying us
Many can’t make it and are going bust
Keeping are cars until they rust
Survival for some is in “God We Trust”

Property taxes cause rage
Many can’t afford their mortgage
Rents are out of control
Causing many young adults to stay at home

Interest rates are so high
No one can afford to buy
Businesses are closing locations
After many generations

What can we do to survive
Being pushed forward due to pride
Proving we are tough
To stubborn to give up

every vote casts matter's

the bar down on 5th, voices clash like dice in a cup,
old men with one eye left open, arms folded, tight,
mutter about what doesn’t matter, what will never matter—
but they walk, stumble, crawl to cast a scratch of ink.

it’s a paper with too much power, too many voices
pressed into the small, heavy hands of the damn,
of the ones who only want to be heard just once,
for their troubles, their lost lives buried under old rents,

but tonight, they grip it, like something fierce,
like holding on to a last drink, or last chance,
and they shake their heads in quiet and whisper,
“what does it change? what does it fix?”

but still, they sign that little death,
spit on the floor, pull open the door,
and walk out like they’ve got something back.

HE

He earns he learns, 
He spent he rents,
He save he gave. 

He live he keep, 
He share he care, 
He try he cry. 

He wills he kills, 
He love he broke, 
He leaves, he lone.

Doing Right by Me

The fire in my heart is ignited by the sparks of your charm 
I love the serene atmosphere of your calm
Your smile, sincere
Your personality, revered  

Pure intentions  rents free in your eyes 
Your heartbeat, speaks affection 
I am immersed in the extremities of your attention  

Do i break these walls of Jericho for your triumph?
But yet my mind remains parallel to the heart 
Reminisces of that one bullet, that left a mark

Do i make haven or take flight?
Either way, will i be doing right by me?.

QOUR

Beware of the devil who rents space in your wold. He sits in a pew grinning like a chaleton.

February's final bonus

A prime-numbered day if years leap
Adds one extra cycle for sleep
This calendar fact
Keeps seasons intact
And discounts our rents that ain't cheap

Black '47

Gilgamesh O’Malley left his home in Fermanagh
With dreams of steaming plates of Irish stew.
He ate his last potato last time Sheamus paid the rent.
Since then, there’s not been very much to chew.

The lords of the Ascendancy express paternal care
By flaunting all their privileges of wealth, 
While tenant souls like Gilgamesh subsist on gospel words 
Unsuited for the maintenance of health.

The famine’s grip was guaranteed by what was done to help;
The landlords’ ledgers chronicled events.
The mighty Earl of Lucan and the rest lived absentee,
Their middlemen kept busy squeezing rents.

So, Gilgamesh O’Malley left his home in Fermanagh,
And climbed aboard a packet ship in Cobh.
He authored his own epic as an immigrant at large,
To brave the flood and find a decent job.

Gilgamesh O'Malley left his home for foreign shores.
Should the Fates condemn your destiny, his fortune could be yours.

Future

  As barren as the moon,
  Perhaps not later,
  But soon!

  Filtered air,
  Seawater collected,
  Eaten with chop sticks,
  If you please,
  Whatever we can eat with ease!

  Too hot to live on the surface,
  Burrow under the ground.
  Deep enough for cooling temps,
  Not enough to raise the rents!

  Everyone moves to shaded ground,
  Rocks hold heat,
  So, underground!

  The moon is looking better all the time,
  Not so crowded,
  To move around.

Halloween Night

Wings of bat spread on curved moon’s mystique screen,
autumn air rents in howl of goblins green, 
moon dust blue hue pumpkins spray.
Trick or treat masked children say,
awake in weird night for it’s Halloween.

Cloaked figure with hooded face in mask tight,
Dracula greets the vampire, his friend right,
dances wild as if sprite-gripped,
until their thin robes are ripped, 
flung far in dark air of Halloween night.

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