Over half a century served now,
Two kids
Two weddings
And one heart attack,
A life chequered with
Equal good and dark and downright bad,
Joy brought to some
Yet to others pain,
So I wonder now,
Can two rights
Overcome one wrong?

Yes I have done my part,
Brought some to faith,
Helped more to a better
More empowered life,
Loved and been loved
And yet always it seems
Lifting others to fly
Like eager doves
To greater things,
Greater lives,
Better loves and more,

Yet still I wonder,
Can two rights correct
One wrong?
Can even I be saved,
Is salvation there for
Even one such as I?
I have been called
An angel,
Even offered wings to
Others comfort
And encouragement,
Yet I so feel that darker side,
That darker things has done,

And so as this journey
Draws to its conclusion
I find myself drawing in
To myself yet still
Extended,
(Over so in fact) to the wellbeing of these others,
Still there for them and yet
At heart and
In the dark
I am alone aside
From the judgement

Of unelected disdainful
Self-righteous prigs
Yet here I am,
Up to my **** in alligators
Yet still trying to drain
Other people's swamps,
Still bailing while
Dodging the bites and
Still quiet,
Still alone,
In the dark,
As the coffin lid,
Slides home.

It’s shift change,
and pit stains
paint my blue shirt.

My feet hurt,
and I’m ready to leave work,
but the teenage party ****
doesn’t come in,
so of course I
am not leaving,
just grieving
my lost evening
freedom.

Sixteen-hour anxiety,
cause I almost O.D.
on carbonated caffeine,
as the sugar and acid
eat away
causing
painful tooth decay.

Make it home and hope to
get enough sleep to
make it through
my next shift.

Unload those greasy clothes
onto my bathroom floor
before I change into
my holy t-shirt and
ripped up shorts.
Don’t even make it to the shower
cause I am out in less than
a quarter of an hour
after I enter the front door.

In again, wash, and repeat,
I know this isn’t me.
I could do so much more.

Boss yells get your times down!
Fix this order!
Stop lounging,
if you got time to lean,
ya got time to clean.”

My co-workers only see
another cog
in the fast-food machine.
Even when I’m not clowning,
I am still a joke to them.

So, tired but it’s not just
sleep that I need.
So, burnt out that
I just want to up and leave,
but I’m twenty-three
and it won’t be
till I am twenty-eight
that I get free,
running off to another city
to get a higher degree
and escape this restaurant
barely get paid
minimum wage
nightmare.

Write between the lime juice lines,
And basil blood,
On the cutting board
To the rhythm of cooks' kitchen knives,

Write between the wet mop tendril trails,
On the reused restaurant floor,
As you carried to clean
A mistake some rich man made,

Write to the beat of the press,
Punching out the steel form,
In accordance with the curriculum,

Write in the silent moments,
Chewing homemade sandwiches
Through the cigarette smoked sunrise

Write between stun grenade blasts
After cleaning tear gas attacks

Write in between ****** boot prints,
The shape of the state seal
Congealed to the street.

Against the backdrop of a global catastrophe
witness us busying to fix the natural damage
heavily wrought
an endeavour in itself,
which ought to warrant respect
and the gift of time and patience

Our blood and sweat
a human resource
gladly spent to rebuild the detriment,
but not at any cost
not kamikaze squadrons
dashed upon the decks of a false progress

For each of us as batteries
are finite
and our spark will drain,
our light will die
unless the blinkered
see that trying is enough
for now

When foundations are rebuilt, safe
and feet feel steady
we will readily head skywards again

when another day is ****** again
red heavens collapse over your head
cause devil is staring at you
while you're rushing to the subway

doomed to catch it, morning strugglez
you and your people are in distress
good friends died and they keep dying
life was, is and remains a battle field

you awoke because of hunger and curiosity
which kind of dream was that? pushing tons
residing in a snowwhite castle, no stains
yachts across, attitude like klitschkos

reality bites: your inner voice is calling you
take a shower! eat! go to work and prosper!
in truth you work for hard-hearted vultures
wearing suits, spreading lies, for sure

you have to sell tv sets via phone
****** payment, no insurance, usa-flava
but you bust your *** for it, still unable
to buy new sneakers for your daughter

all second hand, so at school she is being mobbed
they steal her dignity, beat her up, she's twelve
eight o'clock in the morning, and she is moaning
swollen rips, hair teared out, a broken jawbone

no school mate is helping her, ambulance and sirens
your daughter faints, as you're rushing to the hospital
and when you see her abused, you decide to take vengeance
the night is red, heavens collapse over your head

devil is no more staring, you and him take action
you buy a weapon, 40 cal, bleeding anger, danger
but you won't turn back, never acting like a coward
in the park, near the river, you can find them ******* sitting

loading the gun, slowly moving, avoid any sound
the rest is history, your story, never feeling sorry

Working for my dream, I started to forget what I'm working for and what I'm fighting for.