Don’t hide me in a shoe box only in shoes fit for a king I’m just a poor man walking in rich men’s things like the checkered jacket I’m wearing the plastic bag and rings I’m just a poor man walking in a rich man’s things yet, there ain’t no way of knowing how rich I am, that be true unless you look down on me smudge the shine right off me shoe yeah, there ain’t no way of hiding me pride or anything when I pull out to dangle a rusty gold watch, and silver tin where I keep fine stained paper and my tobacco rolled in Like I say, me brother I’m just a poor man walking in a rich man’s things among the high class dining treating myself to their bin I’m just a poor man walking in rich men’s things yes, I’m living the life and nothing stopping living every man’s dream till I’m another poor man in a coffin, with a chauffeur in a black limousine
Are we just sitting around counting down the clock to doomsday? Casual watchers of the apocalypse Like another piece of news to gossip with “On the tube today, all the free worlds have up and gone the way Of every other empire too resigned to say….” Maybe today, Is the day we change
Beggar, sir, please, come and play Your empty tin can tunes Politician, sir, please, preach me your wants And masquerade them as my needs Hurt me, so you can wipe my dying tears away Enslave me, so you can break the chains and whisper I’m free Be all you have ever been. Seemingly, all that you can be.
Why can we never seem to get it right. What does it even mean to be human anymore. Is there any purpose in the world outside our own selfish desires?
The world is words so seldom heard Cries for help ignored, misspelled Silent screams from those in need Dying pleas can not be gleaned from mute TVs Opulence by any means Poverty penned as the new disease Truth, the circus freak Meager, meek, sad is weak Rinse, Repeat All that history speaks Unheard echo Beneath the flesh and bone An unread poem
Just picked up my thirtieth pair of glasses (perhaps you call them eye glasses). Progressive, photo-chromatic, temples with wrap around cables. Same round frames since I was sixteen (first saw them in How I Won the War). I don’t mess with what works. We fit. No need to look further. Had my eye on the prize. They give me perfect sight. And I waited years to get perfect sight. Always needed glasses. Finally got them when I was eleven. Big family. Immigrants. No health coverage. So, no glasses. Couldn’t see the forest or the trees. A genetic thing too. Several sisters and brothers are as myopic as moles. Mammy and Daddy never wore glasses (which is not to say they didn’t need them). All granny glasses are wire rims with a golden finish. All of mine were. These ones are round black wire rims. I’m being so adventurous. I remove them (singular is a monocle) to shower and go to bed. I never ask to try on someone’s frames, and I never loan mine for a second (Period) I also have a face that has grown so accustomed to glasses, that my eyes have surely deepened into my skull. I don’t recognize myself on my driver’s license, health card or passport (Why do they insist on that? I’m never asked to remove my glasses upon surrender of any document for visual verification).
I’ve yet to regret the wealth I’ve spent. Their cost could pay the rent For a third world family for years. It would feed and clothe a village, I’m sure. I'm not blinded by how good I've got it here.
The title comes from Jer. 5:21 "How I Won the War" starring John Lennon. He first wore wire rims in this movie, and removed the stigma of being called "Pop bottles" in the school yard.
Beware! Beware! The great Beast of the World Beware! Beware! They’ve come They’ve come They’ve come
Beware! Beware! The mighty, ferocious roar Their anger have no limits Their hunger have no bounds
Beware! Beware! They’re lurking everywhere They lives in those we scorn And within those ***** throngs
Beware! Beware! They’ve come to get us all! What have we done to deserve this fate? Such innocence yet we fall
Beware! Beware! Gather your gold Gather your letters Gather your shoes Your bread and your butter
Such savagery Such monsters Flaming tongues Knife blade garbles Seeping into every nook and cranny
What have we done? But give you a place to sleep? What have we done? But give you a way to live? We are like you Working in the fields We only reap a different harvest Of course not just coal and fuels
What have we done? But give you recognition? What have we done? But put you where you belong? Your tears are woven into our blankets We wear your blood in stone Don’t tell us we stand on the same rock and soil We live a different birth
What have we done? But give you food to put on your table? Of grey water And rock hard rye That we found in a rotting corner of our pantry Out of the goodness of our hearts
Oh why have you come To lock us in your cages We don’t belong where you live Don’t come don’t run And tear us into shreds We only did what was right
Don’t come knocking at our front doors With your jagged claws and yellow teeth And those swollen eyes and lips Don’t come and trample All over our front lawn And take what is rightfully ours
Heel! Heel! I say! What has gotten into your head? We have worked together so well You and I What has become Of dog And his Master?
I live in a shoe And before you ask me any questions Or if this a metaphor Or try to sell me a spot in the latest **** development Let me assure you, I most definitely live in a shoe It is the left shoe to be exact Worn down and some spots extra layers of duct tape To keep out the winter cold And when it gets icy, I have to be careful For if I jostle it just right, the shoe can slide a couple feet You may ask me why, when, what and how And this is what I will say I used to work at a school, a crossing guard in the morning Lunch lady in the afternoon, and chaperone seeing the children off in the afternoon And with budget cuts, my job was the first to hit the floor And so was my pension My retirement was limited and with no health care It was impossible to see a doctor for my growing aches and pain And I was left with nothing, until I came across this shoe Abandoned and tattered, I took to fancying it up Scrubbing it out, making it into a home It took me a winter or two to get the insulation right And the city has all but forgotten this area So for now, I am safe Before the corporate giants clamor over the countryside Pulling up homes like weeds so they can plant their boxed in communities I am okay in my little spot Not long the runaways found me In school the children always ran to me for safety, and now Their children have found me, these lost children We are a little family of misfits, foraging off the land Keeping each other safe In a world that doesn’t even care if we are alive