#poverty
The Workhouse
In the year of 1853
So poor, it’s to the workhouse for me
No Mum, no Dad no family
I am just another ******* you see
Inside the place it’s cold and damp
I suffer ailments, like colds and cramp
Sitting here I feel so forlorn
Beginning to wish I had never been born
Work in the laundry from dawn to dusk
Living on gruel, and sometimes some rusk
Beaten, starved and they call this home
Is it no wonder I feel so alone
Only ten years old am I you see
I should be living happily
Skipping gaily as a child
A little girl so meek and mild
But here I am so often used
Beaten, damaged and abused
I work so hard every given day
but still get treated in this way
Mr Bartlett runs the home
I think he has a heart of stone
Takes no notice of my plight
Ignores my screams throughout the night
Young Johnny takes such a great delight
IN hurting me, this is my plight
Bullies others, just like me
Would tell but no one listens to me
Calloused hands and chilblained feet
As a child I’ve changed, no longer mild and sweet
I have to steal to stay alive
Or sell my body to survive
Another long day, a sad one too
I lost a friend her name was Sue
Found dead in a doorway, having run away
Starved, half naked some did say
My heart grows heavy by the day
In this place I have to stay
Washing, Ironing sheets and things
Whatever arrives, what the rich people bring
Today I feel so tired, my body weighs a ton
And the day has only just begun
By noon I need to go and rest
To an alcove I know best
Down in the cellar, cold and damp
I lie on rags, behind a ramp
Out of sight, not to be seen
No one will know where I have been
As time rolls by, sleep turns to passing
Another child not everlasting
My name is Jenny, but who cares
Just another orphan living downstairs
The plight of children in these times
Can’t be put into nursery rhymes
Sad but true, no one dared
In truth and reality no one cared
For the poor it was the workhouse plain and simple
To the rich, these people were just a pimple
On the backside of society
Not interested in Jenny and where she may be
Another lost soul, no one would miss
Was found early next morning, no one to kiss
Her goodbye, died all alone
No longer in that horrible home
7d ago
May 27, 2026 at 4:43 AM UTC
Not even tents, some cloths, wet
cardboard and pieces of plastic tied
between mud bushes, children
limp with their mothers, everywhere
young men stomping around
looking in every nook and corner
of their heads how to tear
down the fence, leave
their hopeless misery
in this no man's land
to put love again
in the eyes begging for help
Who cares about them, who
among us breaks the indecision, who
brings water, a bed, a loaf of bread, who
does do something, who goes to them, who
dares to look them in the eye
from person to person?
May 18
May 18, 2026 at 3:57 AM UTC
Imminent reality comes crashing down
The zombie bots are revolting tonite
Clash of steel, electric fences hold me in
Nostrils breathe in nostalgia
A broken, digital compass buried
beneath a world stuck on dial-up tone
I feel the grip upon my stretching skin
I feel the clenching of my taut jaws
Blinding headaches scream like raging bullets
Suspension by wires, the tension begins to rise
Bottom feeders decay in swamps of fury
As the rich eat their teeth in golden palaces
World on fire & no one knows
May 16
May 16, 2026 at 7:54 AM UTC
In another ghost town,
we can't continue this way anymore.
Our disparity is unsustainable.
Look around at this wasteland,
we can't continue this way anymore.
Our disparity is unsustainable.
What good are your riches
if your neighbors
can't afford your products & services?
What good are your riches
if your neighbors
can't afford to conduct business?
Would you accept less
so we could all partake?
You're steadfast, firm like stone.
They're open like water, formless as they flow.
The current erodes the past.
The world you knew has come to an end.
Do you feel settled and at home?
The world you knew has come to an end
so tell me, do you feel settled and at home?
A rich man can't buy a house from a poor man.
A dried up spring cannot fill another.
Stagnant, this pool has spoiled; non-potable.
So I'll bring the thunder, you'll bring the rain.
Open the floodgates; free the dammed.
Wash away the filth.
Apr 28
Apr 28, 2026 at 10:04 PM UTC
If you think money can't buy happiness,
you don't know where to shop.
Come and get your world rocked.
Anywhere, anytime.
Got an itch, get the fix.
Always right, cross the line.
Join the club, get 'er done. Run the extra mile.
Realized imagination is our rockstar lifestyle.
Got some bucks, it ain't luck.
We worked hard to step it up.
Livin' large, we're in charge.
We're proud and we're loud.
This ain't just a test, man.
There ain't another chance, man.
Opportunity's knocking...
you gotta be a yes-man to be the best man.
We're on a mission,
Determination too wild to tame.
Execution is the name of the game.
Standing our ground with something to prove.
See those mountains and move.
Work to live and live to work,
awaken another cog in the wheel.
Dormancy reversed, purpose revealed;
a blessing and a curse.
If you think money can't buy happiness,
you don't know where to shop.
Come and get your world rocked.
I'll gladly pay the price,
this is just the cost to be a boss.
Anywhere, anytime.
Got an itch, get the fix.
Always right, cross the line.
Join the club, get 'er done. Run the extra mile.
Realized imagination is our rockstar lifestyle.
Apr 28
Apr 28, 2026 at 8:57 PM UTC
Common man struggles
to afford common things.
Beggars like zombies roam the streets,
hardly more than skin & bones.
They're feeble as they wander
and they sing their songs of woes.
Brushed away, hardly given the time of day.
Soon it may be too late so dread the deadline.
We can plan only for what we expect
but everybody is just a few misfortunes
away from disaster.
I don't know what more you need
to declare this an emergency.
There's a profound distinction
between paralysis and scarcity.
What you call indecision is really adversity.
I'm hesitant to request your assistance
because all you offer
is what you believe is best for me
rather than what I need.
You give to then ask; your gifts are for ransom.
Your generosity is disingenuous.
You met me as a paradigm of a peasant.
I refuse to submit, adding insult to injury.
Feel the weight of spectacular failure.
This is my darkest hour...
(Oh my goodness, deliver me from sympathy).
In my best interest selfishness would be,
may its spirit guide me to the necessary.
You've broken my heart so I'm breaking bad
and you will know my name.
Success is not linear,
this man has been years in the making.
Apr 28
Apr 28, 2026 at 7:52 PM UTC
I've worked long hours but glory be yours,
sacrificed and have been left for dead.
It's brutal to walk here again
to my impending doom.
This problem is beyond sad,
this tragedy is pathetic.
Too many passes on pastimes,
too much time devastated.
"Never mind your condition.
No time to think in your position.
Speak only when you're told,
you know you're expendable.
Punch 'til your arms are useless."
Modern slavery; our wages are arbitrary.
Acceptance only with deficiency.
One foot in front of the other;
marching on, marching on.
It’s your greed or my need,
your victory over my lifeless body.
Your selfishness has brought hostility.
Notice your negligence
has resulted in vice.
Feel the reckoning.
It may just take disruption
to capture your attention.
Know that I’m not alone, we surround you.
Bear witness.
Apr 28
Apr 28, 2026 at 6:03 PM UTC
People watching is such a treat,
Strangers moving, slightly off beat.
Arizona’s got its share—
Vices people won’t repair.
Morning junkies out and about,
Buses run late—people start to shout.
The city’s ***** choking on trash,
Cars don’t care—they speed and flash.
I walk these streets, tired and broken,
Engines pass like words unspoken.
Windows up—no one looks down,
Like I don’t exist in this sunburnt town.
You are nothing if you walk here—
Not a face, not a voice, not even fear.
Just heat… and pavement… and empty sound—
A body moving that no one found.
Apr 24
Apr 24, 2026 at 12:05 PM UTC
Oh how you glisten,
Your encrusted top--
Just listen for the dainty pop
Out of the fire and onto my plate--
What a wholesome loaf of fate.
Sing for your supper,
Write for your dinner,
If you can't
Make the dough this time,
I guess you'll be thinner.
The upper crust,
no muss, no fuss,
Day old bread in the bin
with the dust,
Crumbs flung in disgust-
to peck at,
The People
made to bow, as fowl,
consuming their pittance.
Try and run away with the
Milk and a spoon--
Cast off into an
Ocean of milk,
but the small ship sinks
with nothing but a spoon
To row through all the cream.
Drown the milk in chocolate,
and maybe it'll be sweeter
to choke down
past the lumpy chunks.
Apr 8
Apr 8, 2026 at 9:45 AM UTC
Stepping out into the night
Onto rain slick streets under neon lights.
Millions of souls sleep in silence
While a few zombies wander amongst the stone and steel,
Seeking the solace of a temporary grave, a place to lay alone.
In safety, not saved, but safe until the light.
Where the disease of poverty
goes untreated, unseen it can't happen to me.
Until it does, until I become,
another wandering zombie that you fear.
That you don't want to see or hear.
But I'm just seeking safety in the night.
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 1:15 PM UTC
It was all fine.
I lived in my little
cardboard box
and I ate what I got
from the trash.
It was all fine
until that stranger
knelt down
and gave me
a banknote.
"Go buy some food",
he said.
"It'll help you".
Then I realized.
It struck me
like lightning
and unraveled my mind
like a tornado.
Then, for the first time
in years,
I cried.
Mar 21
Mar 21, 2026 at 12:32 PM UTC
Dark nights, no electricity
Empty stomachs, empty fridges
Loan sharks chasing us
until sunrise.
They’ve been calling mom a witch
Not that she does, they do it
because of jealousy.
And all we could eat were sandwiches
for breakfast, lunch, supper and dinner
We ate it so much it made me *****
Sometimes we would chew candy for dinner
We couldn’t even smile because we
suffered from cavity
At school we couldn’t participate in any activities
Cause it was too expensive.
Rich people went on odysseys on
Christmas.
While us on the other hand we
begged for food on Christmas.
Things started going well for us
when I got accepted at the university
of Witwatersrand but then unfortunately
my mom passed due to breast cancer
Six years later I got a job promotion
at a private hospital.
Life started flowing
as if I enter a portal
of luck.
Although life had challenges
but we managed to
overcome it.
I became a father to my siblings.
Mar 7
Mar 7, 2026 at 4:07 AM UTC
Imagine a man sat upon a throne.
Inflated, his ego would roam
the streets, claiming heat from the palms of the poor souls,
hands filled with deceit and greed, seizing the means of living,
watching the poor grovel at his feet and lick the sole of his heel
for a couple pennies to trickle down.
And the people around him would still represent him and boast:
What does a man like this fear the most?
A bubble growing large, needs one needle of truth
for all of its power to blow the lid wide open,
to reveal the ruse that has covered the eyes of the poor.
And the man knew this would be truly the end of his rule.
If the ripples of dissent escalated into waves,
it would flood him and everything he’s ever made,
so he makes a decision
to flood the news with so much misinformation
that any truth exposed against him would be seen
with so much scrutiny that he would carry on his blasphemy
and still be seen as God’s man on a mission.
Mar 6
Mar 6, 2026 at 8:35 AM UTC
Objectively not connected
We infer, of doing
While left and going without
The pain stayed
A resilient person's notice
Posted as a sign
To ruff us up
By reading difficulty
On the off ramp
This venom collected
From stay men
I'm moving on
Bee leaves crushed in ***** boxes
How much will wills take
In heretic conformity
Nay sayings is execute
Over riding that ramp up
Two occasion along, long side of a road
That that is life sentenced
Make no use from it
Keep the keeper of lies flowing
Until observing us changes
Yes observing us is where the change becomes acceptable
No obstacle in the math
Cash to cash
It's not money
It's a youman
Mar 3
Mar 3, 2026 at 5:08 PM UTC
No matter how much I work,
No matter how hard I try,
It'll never be enough
To simply get by.
My dog needs vet care,
And my cat ate a string,
But to greedy bosses and CEOs,
The poor don't mean a thing -
Hoarding money is the only way to go.
I dream of a life not elegant or grand,
But simply one where my family is happy and healthy,
And really truly fed,
Not one where I work myself to death
All for the sake of the Man.
Where we suffer, the privileged thrive,
Where we lement, the rich do revel,
And there seems no end to my empty pantry
While the privileged dine all rich and fancy.
I hope they're happy,
I hope they're swell,
Because in the end,
We never mattered,
And I know we never will.
Feb 26
Feb 26, 2026 at 10:14 PM UTC
Forgotten words inked across a page
Under a moonlit, starry sky
Carrying with it an ancient rage
Known best as Poverty's Lullably.
Many speak of the dreadful wrong,
Yet few can hear it's mournful song.
Little do those above care
In any way, shape, or form,
For money is money,
Even if struggle shouldn't be the norm.
Feb 25
Feb 25, 2026 at 12:24 AM UTC
i pry
from my little dream
of being
one of the punished poverty
of scraping to class
working dull hours
bowled over
in admiration of the royalty
a stoop to the sweat of servitude
from this little dream
i regurgitate
Feb 5
Feb 5, 2026 at 8:02 AM UTC
Disgusting, it rings
rusty cast iron bells
clanging while crumbling
drawing townsfolk's attention
or a hand pound metal bowl singing,
glinting in the hands of a Tibetan monk
dis-gus-ting.. dis-gus-ting
disssssssss-
gusssssssss-
tinggggggg
Disgusting, it clings
to clothes I wear, both day and night
four, five, even six days at a time
body odor compounding disgust
at slowed winter rates
paying dividends on extended time gains
hedging the impact of lack
according to my index check
portfolio of poverty
performing well since birth
49 years of forecasting survival trends
establishes a reliable methodology
escape velocity
breaking societal financial surface tension
capturing lung filled breaths & nourishment
before being stepped on again
submerged
into the disgust
for the disgusting
dis this, dis that
dismal dynamics devolving development
something for the hygienic walkers to discuss
their words garbled and muffled
from below the poverty line
however, the sentiment is present
in the tone they resonate
pity, mockery, sympathy
its a full range
Deliberate disgusting
I find myself pondering the days past
How many since I saw a shower last
A clue, a trick, can be found
in the au naturel fragrance that surrounds
the dis-gus-ting being that struggles
with mental landscapes
greed & corruption
repression & abuse
aggression
emotional regulation
fortunately for this one, no substance abuse
spiritual pursuits
ego cracks
identity deconstruction
Self discovery
kingdom within alignment
who am I
Discussing disgusting
Disgusting, it brings
the latest chapter
newest collection,
from the House of Poverty
seven years without a personal restroom
public stalls, gym bathrooms
moldy shower curtains, grimy walls
abandoned bottles, mushy soap cakes
hair ***** and snot blasts from strange bodies
toweling and twirling in tiny tight spaces,
attempting to dress while shuffling
bag and clothes
from chair, to floor, to hooks, or over the door
bare feet, cold tiles
avoiding wet socks, eye styes
privacy equates to ******* in plastic bottles
defecating in bags, while
the winter air attacks
the bare skin, it bites
it bites
it bites
the whole arrangement bites
doesn't it
recoil I'm sure
you did, just then
recoil in
disgust
dis-gus-ting
dis-gus-ted
are you
Discussing disgusting
Disgusting, it sings
melodic stories of value
harmonies of gratitude
filth, oh how it does shine,
from time to time
it points, it reminds
how far you can be pulled down
depths of disgust
fight to claim
simplest of joys
hygiene, oil free skin
clean porcelain stall
shower caddy,
permanently placed with personalized products
a warm floor with bath mat
what a gift, to scrub and clean
a bathroom, again & again
located within a home, behind locked door
whose key dangles innocently
among empowered others
unique, rigidly cut teeth
unlocking convenience
privileged
born
within particular geographical regions
genetic lineage, mental stability
coping mechanisms
drive & ambition
access to opportunity
things we easily lose sight of
feel entitled too
a sense of attainment, earned
replaces the truth
complexity,
mistaken as simplicity
personal conviction
an ability, authority
personal ambition
self-responsibility
Discussing disgusting
Two faces to each coin,
back & front
much like left and right
to ignore one and espouse truth
as belonging solely within borders
that favor preferred storylines
is a symptom of sickness
that devolves in time
ringing bells, singing bowls
Discussing disgusting
Genetics & environment
shaping action below the surface
a narrow channel, if one truly exits
for the "I" to "choose"
yet, manifest destiny
I think therefore, I am
the unlearned proclaim
ignorance, another form of filth
disgusting, arrogance
blind to the discussion
Discussing disgusting
I am disgusting
I am discussing
the disgusting state of my being
through common tongue
simplistic interpretation
material worship
somewhat earned, somewhat given
somewhat stolen, somewhat savage competition
somewhat forgotten, somewhat praised
somewhat in question
somewhat on the verge of being threatened
Discussing disgusting
I endure this state
reminiscent of a path
Plato, The Republic
or a test being presented
by the Nameless
to purify
monadic essence
Disgusting
I am disgusting
I smell and avoid others
I am that person
I will never separate myself from another
I am disgusting
discussing
the disgusting
Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 10:06 AM UTC
Late afternoon, haze hung low, heat and sky
holding breath. You’re it. No tag-backs. Asphalt
freckles our knees. Dinner is anytime: bologna
on white; Kool-Aid cut thin with tap. No hurry home
unless for the news. We don’t.
We want what’s coming, not what’s been.
Paper fortune tellers flutter open, close.
She writes the answers first, back turned.
Lift one flap: your dog dies. Another: a prince
charming. Another: best party in town,
limousine awaits. He lifts a flap: her name.
actually meant for you, her sister whispers.
Then rain, the blue-lined paper sags, ink settles
in cracks, bare feet scatter, futures wash
mid-fold into a storm drain. At Cheshire and
Green Meadows, a drunk witch swears Venus and Jupiter
will make us all rich. She leaves out how long
the sky makes you wait. Lunch money turns
to lottery slips. Rounding the corner, moving vans
idle over chalked hopscotch, our names folded under.
Aug 17, 2025
Aug 17, 2025 at 1:35 AM UTC
Angels wander the streets
of southern Louisiana
Offering food to the unfortunate
and struggling to feed themselves
Angels sit at the street corners,
as they wait for the light to turn
And they ***** out their cigarettes
before they walk into work
Angels walk everywhere they go,
as car is an invention of man
And they have no money to buy one
They thank the people that let them pass
With grocery bags in their hand
Angels are beings like my grandmother,
Give when they have nothing aswell
And accept nothing in return
They use everything they have
To make their loved ones happy
And never, ever discriminate,
no matter the
Race
Gender
Sexuality
Or appearance
Only personality.
Feb 1
Feb 1, 2026 at 1:04 AM UTC
Where does the constitutional
loss of freedom become clear?
Vocally, as in an admission of
dissuasive measures in and under
time?
A racing argument to the hide away,
observable by the pre-tense?
"Speaking for the poor from?
From question, one begins
speaking poorly, in attempts
to create audience as well as
meaning well on behalf of a
simplified yet costly topic."
Jan 29
Jan 29, 2026 at 2:13 PM UTC
“a different kind of poverty, now afflicts my soul”
it appear the muses came today to contradict me,
interdict me,
forbidding me to sur~cease
(an archaic word, comme moi)
when I spake these words
“have mined so oft my core,
it is quite the hugest bore”
the voyage to the center of my earth,
seemingly be a perpetuity destination,
which the muses stern-fully informed, cannot be concluded
until the perp, c’est moi,
is how shall I say this delicately,
be fully arrested
~~
55 years I have listened to this particular strong sad song,
and the title of this poem, but a single lyric within it contained,
always commanded me
today
it arrested me once more, froze me to the spot,
bade me ignore it no more,
for you, my sad soul,
well ken this affliction
and I discover that any journey forward,
can only be concluded by looking backwardly,
awkward as that may be, maybe,
the colloquial colonial expression,
you can’t go home again deserves its very own
*terik
~~~
the poverty that afflicts me is a multiplicity of sins,
where forgiveness is neither oddly asked for, nor even
able to be
granted, unless I do so,
and they are too grievous,
so audaciously unforgivable
that my cored turmoil knows too well,
eternal relief,
is from the list of worldly impossibilities,
a/k/a
fool’s beliefs
they are grave,
and the law of gravity
is unbreakable,
so yet must I drill deeper,
not expecting to find
the purest olive oil of relief
and this
poverty of my humanity,
that has afflicted,
these conflicted deeds,
will expire with
my last, best poem,
and the upset
will be finally,
offset
Jan 24
Jan 24, 2026 at 2:41 PM UTC
Towards morning, a man lies on a bench near the train station...
And the street is empty except for jackdaws and flying birds...
I stand on the sidewalk with my bag, silently in the distance...
I myself came to the city from distant lands, not to visit.
My time is unusual...
I myself have forgotten how to play billiards...
I have no money, and there is nothing more beautiful to me than love...
Next to the bus stop, a man in a down jacket is lying...
I became lost in thought and stood nearby, waiting...
It's morning, and it's time for me to wait for the driver...
Business trips or a one-way trip...
I was lost in thought at a bus stop in Tver, alone.
I wait, stand, look at the holy building and the Christmas trees around it...
I didn't have to stand and wait long with my bags...
A stranger, a homeless man, rose from the bench. I'm standing waiting for the bus and looking at a tall building...
A man passing by nudges me in the elbow...
A skinny, scrawny man stands next to a backpack...
Will you drink some ***** from the bottle with me...
I'm leaving work now to go home...
A man passing by says to me, holding my backpack...
I reply: "Hello, pour me some!"
I took out my paper cup, my coffee-brown one...
The man poured me a glass of *****
I didn't drink it right away, and I felt a little better, a little better, though...
The man drank from the bottle himself, quickly and silently...
And he stood there silently and said briefly: "Don't get sick and I wish you success!"
I hid my paper cup in my backpack...
And the stranger walked away from me, past the fir trees...
He was driving from work to the train station, returning home! And I stood and waited for my bus and work in Tver...
And a white, homeless man stood on a bench on the asphalt and smoked.
Jan 20
Jan 20, 2026 at 4:38 PM UTC
Ils prétendent t'aimer
Mais ce n'est pas vrai
Ils affirment t'adorer
Mais ce n'est pas vrai
Ils te trahissent, te haïssent et te poignardent
Les politiciens corrompus sont étranges et maléfiques
Ils te tirent dessus partout, même dans le dos
Ils sont blancs, bruns, marrons, violets et noirs
Ils falsifient tout ce qui te concerne ; ils sont cruels
Pourtant, ils veulent que tu réussisses dans cet enfer.
Ils parlent de toi, Haïti, tout le temps
Mais ils ne t'aiment pas
Ils chantent pour toi, et à propos de toi tout le temps
Pourtant, ils mentent aussi à ton sujet
Haïti, tu n'as que des ennemis et des « amis »
Qui font semblant de vouloir te tendre la main
Pourtant, ils te détestent, te pillent et te volent
Ils te dépouillent à la moindre occasion
Au lieu de gâteaux, ils placent de minuscules bombes mortelles
Sous ta langue. Ils te haïssent et te poignardent
Haïti, Haïti, ils ne se soucient pas de toi
Ils ne se préoccupent que de leurs familles
Et de leurs poches bien remplies. Ils te haïssent
Ils se moquent éperdument de toi
Haïti est une oasis appauvrie et surexploitée
Elle n'est pas un trou. Elle est sous-estimée
Ses enfants matricides, des idiots, des filous et des imbéciles
Oublient qu'Haïti fut autrefois la « Perle des Antilles ».
P.S. Joyeuse Fête de l'Indépendance, Haïti Chérie !
Bonne Année 2026 !
This is a translation of “Haiti, Beloved Country” par Hebert Logerie.
Copyright © 31 décembre 2025 Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés.
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs recueils de poésie.
Jan 1
Jan 1, 2026 at 1:45 PM UTC