All Poetry You Write That You Really Like

Oct 2018

Lou

To all those,

With petty drug
          violations
Who might
         **** ***** in gateways

Or all those,

Whose skin color was too
         whose genders made them less
                               And especially under the 13th

Who they won't allow one to get

To all those,
               stereotyped
ink and by fashion
                   rejected and inappropriate

For those,
who touched too little
or those who have ****** a lot

                    And most certainly
        those who were not allowed to tell

And for,
  all who pray and are feared
   all too poor to be there
    all too sick
     all not educated
      all who speak too much
       And who don't say anything at all.

    You are all the least qualified to get a job.
Let they be the judge.
      None of your mistakes or situations
               can be redeemed or validated.
               Does that sound about white?
                       They told you image
                             mattered but,
                                     what
                                        of
                                       his?

All these people can't get a job or are put off on the process due to some sort of discrimination. Your image matters they say as they let a man sit at the Supreme Court with the shittest images ever. Honestly if it doesn't sound about white I would be lying to you. This crap is crazy out of control and only picking at the intent and history will wake people up that these "people" don't care.

#racism #jobs #discrimination #sexism

Jul 2018

Ben Jones

Silent Comedian

At the back of the stage in a gloomy wee room
Where the cockroaches eat what the rats don’t consume
There’s a table enveloped in paper and grime
On a carpet now lost to a happier time
With a cast iron typewriter, rusted with age
In the gloomy wee room at the back of the stage

And under a lampshade of nicotine brown
Sits a comical legend of zero renown
How he plugs at the keys of his rattling beast
The years of persistence have left him decreased
Now he’s stuck in the shade of his hovering doom
At the back of the stage in a gloomy wee room

His words are for others and too, the applause
Though a standing ovation might cause him to pause
He hasn’t the courage to speak them aloud
For he’s lacking the bottle and shy of a crowd
So he captures the laughter in lines on his page
In a gloomy wee room at the back of the stage