Don't be cool
Hate aloof
Cliche Spending is slow reading headlines
Lettings, yourself conceited
I wouldn't encourage feelings if me
Just raising the literacy rates
With Irish American letters is all time
But, I'm somewhere at
Unstable and content
Introverting caution
Lived from wars before my own ink
Extroversion is an extra paragraph
Treasury department extortion
On copy desk before rents talked about
In the newspaper
You exist
As an exit
Misnomers a banking poetry song
Calculates make wedding vows
Acquire before you lives and skip
Thousand Oaks California is based
On thoughts of being poor
Building affordable welfare support
Pet Shop Boys
Watching model prisoner chicks
Who become victims of war ignorance
Unable to
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.
"Holey all over,
seen better days,
worn out and threadbare,
can't mend its ways,
with drink spills, 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.
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.
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....
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)]
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
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
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 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.
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?.
Beware of the devil who rents space in your wold. He sits in a pew grinning like a chaleton.
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
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.
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.
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