As rent went unpaid by the tenants,
they had to pay a heavy penance.
One and all, copybook blotters,
their name became simply, 'Squatters'.
But, in this case, possession being nine-tenths of the law,
did not hold up in court, and, homeless once more,
were out in the cold for their derelictions,
as the landlord had the courage of his evictions.
Three score and ten
Round the next bend
Best pick up a pen
Against lies to fend
Truth told, raw
Good, bad, all
What you saw
Ere your call
The body slow
Mind, spirit too
Vice, virtue show
Sins, denied to rue
Karmic debt unpaid
So little time, left
To fast track the said
The burden to heft
Cultivate body, mind
Transform the spirit
To cosmic laws aligned
Ill health at last, quit
The feel of anger when you cannot shout,
it can be enough to drive someone mad.
Do you know what I am talking about?
I’m aware fellowship can make you glad.
Finding support within a conjunct pout,
you run catapulting off that launchpad.
Still, it’s easier to unleash your voice,
deprived eats you like an unpaid invoice.
The Sheep line up to be Walmart counted
Empty thoughts sleep walking in pyjamas
Without smiles
Without voices
Without community
There to stare
at how to work another register
The One that doesn't care about your day
The One the Waltons ousted John Boy to replace
His minimum wage and demeanour an outrage
Musk and Bezos need more Smarties
just like YOU,
to feed empty space
So, You, Sleep Walker, will pay
Buy your daily Bread
Care not that the oven can slam shut
Care for Nothing
Just as long as it costs THEM next to nothing
Be silent, say nothing
Be Nothing
Don't smile
Don't talk
Don't live
Be the unpaid cashier
.......And bring your own pillowcases!
Then arrived The Promised Day!
But Boss seemed not he would pay
Devoted staff kept at bay
Thirty faces no more gay…
Creditors: Do what you may;
Owed teachers might have their say:
He won’t stop who will not stay,
Still shall sack who dares to play
Lesson-Note Writing Time slay,
Comment on his hair now grey,
Or when he says “Yep” says “Nay”
Or peas pick from the same tray…
Long Patience is The Sun Ray,
Protests lead workers astray;
The Great Grandfather of Fray.
You haven’t Miss Ann paid
That which workers aid
And for which contracts are made.
Miss Ann, still unpaid,
Is, till date, Your Best Maid,
Her stewardship of High Grade
Errands running, unafraid.
Your fame might just fade
With Ann left unpaid
And for the nothing you’ve said
Into a scandal wade;
Bleeding with a blade
A Lady for wages prayed
And a trust laid.
So, torture thou not Ann:
To everybody, a fan;
A most seasoned cook
You never her dishes forsook.
Love is unpaid street cleaner
It removes stress from aching hearts
Laughter is fresh summer rain
It brings new life from winter drains
Sleep is sweet voluntary death
It resurrects body from life’s dearth
Mourning is early morning breeze
It drains dirty dew from evening wreak
Exercise is a witch-doctor the healer
It exorcises body from microbe the killer
Good feeding is the military barricade
It barricades body from militant terrorists
With less tomorrows than I've yesterdays
In looking back I have but one regret
Before that last tomorrow fades away
I wish that I could pay an unpaid debt
Back to a summer day so long ago
How frivolous we were with innocence
Two kids in love and way too young to know
Decisions made in haste have consequence
In tenderness I'd kiss away her tears
I'd tell her I am sorry for her pain
Give back the love I'd carried all those years
Convince her that her gift was not in vain
I'd ask for her forgiveness on my knees
Tears of contrition I would surely weep
Then thank her for life's sweetest memory
And with her blessing peacefully I'd sleep
October 10 2016
It's Thursday afternoon,
there's a buzz in the office
about a memo sent straight from the top
Even before you read it,
you sense somethings's not right,
by the looks of that fidgety company cop
The memo said,
short and succinct:
Tomorrow you won't get paid
Hold the phone,
you better call the local precinct
There's some thievery going on I'm afraid
It's bad when you work,
and you don't get paid
It ain't good, no way, no how
It's bad when you work,
and you don't get paid
It's like being a muzzled ox chained to a plow
You didn't sign up to be no office slave
You're furious, and you need to vent
You're worried about where you're going to live,
if you're not able to pay the rent
It's hard to make ends meet with a bouncing check,
it's near impossible to try and move up
Working for nothing wasn't the career plan
You might as well be outside holding a cup
It's bad when you work,
and you don't get paid
It ain't good, no way, no how
It's bad when you work,
and you don't get paid
It's like being a muzzled ox chained to a plow
It's bad when you work,
and you don't get paid
Guess you're free to live in poverty now
I feel as one…now
With the grass and trees
Part and parcel
Of capricious breeze
Feel the need to fall
Upon my knees
And beg…“let me linger
A little longer please”
I feel a certain sadness
Perhaps more sure
A certain madness
In my humble
And bumbling
Clumsy. Stumbling
Pleas
I feel somehow
More related
(tho’ perhaps
A bit belated)
To Mother Nature…
With her wind-song
In the trees
I feel the weight
Of long due freight
The debt of a lifetime
Of unpaid fees…
Words left unspoken
Hearts perhaps broken
So now I make my plea
Upon my knee
In all humility
And beg good Naturedly…
“If you should be so good
If you only would….
let me linger…
A little longer
Please”
Backbone crushing experiences break the man
Cemented footsteps of the frustration prevent him to stand
Let along walk
See the timid speech protruding from his mouth as he talks
I don’t know if that’s the harshness of life or love that
Breaks off a mans spine
Keeping his dreams vertically inclined
So many suffer from the issue of straining their backs
Cold to a new life because scarcity of ice packs
Such a cold reality
Freezing a world molded mentality
So many people struggle with severe back pain
But we let our situations remain the same
No job, no hope, no dreams, no family, no supporting team
One blade of grass is green when all the rest are yellow, budding, blooming showing its
rose pedals
Why must some of us at other peoples expenses hurt
So we can show the real people hurting their truth worth
Broken hearts are like broken backs
We are torn when all the rest of our ligaments are intact
We bleed we scar, we heal, we fall, we spill
But no respecting individual pays the hospital bills
So his hurt pumps without him saying a word clearly spoken
But now his whole being because of one aches truly broken.
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