#welfare
Heading to the welfare office to collect another check,
the cost of surviving keeps compounding—I can’t outrun the debt.
I’ve been staring in the distance, trying to recollect whoever’s left,
because I’m drowning in the struggles I’m facing and I can’t catch a breath.
Waking up exhausted from whatever I have going on daily,
every bill’s a reminder that I’m barely standing stable.
The rent’s due, my phone’s off and the fridge is running empty,
I’m trading peace of mind just to keep food on my ******* table.
Yeah I ****** it up for myself, made the calls that got me stuck,
can't blame the world for choices when I pushed my own luck.
But the system's got me circling now, can't climb out of this rut,
and tomorrow looks the same as today—another day I'm ******
Dec 23, 2025
Dec 23, 2025 at 8:02 PM UTC
The local convenience store dealers lean on glass windows with ****** pupils scanning the parking lot for any takers. I pump my gas on station four and spy from afar. Don’t make eye contact or that means you’re interested. No buyers yet. What do you suppose is on the menu for today? Judging from the amount of zombies I’ve seen pushing stolen shopping carts a block away from here, I’d say smack. Tar. Black. ****** Whatever they call it where you’re from. Welfare bodies withered down to just flesh hanging from bone, wandering around aimlessly for their next fix. I’ve only ever tried it once; I was curious and sad and it was there—in Violet’s hand and then in my lungs. Do you think my mother would cry out in those disgusting sobs of snot and heaves of not-being-able-to-breathe-tears if she knew? Do you think my sister would look at me with that glare of judgmental disapproval because yet again, here’s an example of why I’m the family ****** Do you think my father would smack me upside the head and call me a dumb *** Probably. And do you think my third and sixth grade teachers who told me I should one day do something with my writing would be gasping in disappointment? Definitely. The gas pump clicks off. A potential customer staggers across asphalt to meet his makers and I am no better than he is at this very moment.
Dec 1, 2020
Dec 1, 2020 at 3:17 AM UTC
You're hardly seen at home at all these days
and I wonder when you will change your ways.
But I do hope that everything's alright
and the future for you also looks bright.
Many people have gone on the wrong path
seeking their own gain but acquiring wrath.
When they do not consider the welfare
or happiness of someone else do care.
If you've fallen into that state somehow
please listen to the words of wisdom now
to discern their knowledge and to receive
some advice for your soul as you believe.
When you put other people's welfare first
and for their happiness you also thirst
doing those things for their satisfaction
you'll reap a good harvest of attraction.
This must be done in line with what is good
and if viewed from a point of wisdom would
not detract away from that high ideal
which is the basis of our human weal.
_______________________
Jul 7, 2020
Jul 7, 2020 at 2:18 AM UTC
Why, is the superfluous one.
What, is unnecessary, too.
How & When & Where, then,
are inescapable.
If you act on instinct,
how far will you go to self preserve?
When will you break?
Where will you turn?
Is it your self you'd extinguish,
or is it the other flames?
There can be only one,
but the prize is: death comes
down the path of least resistance
to take a multitude of shapes.
As for my body,
nothing much to lose,
nothing left to save.
As for my body,
nothing much to lose,
nothing left to save.
Aug 13, 2019
Aug 13, 2019 at 8:34 PM UTC
who am i to say if the mozzer's lost touch?
what does my rough draft have
that is missing from his manuscript?
nothing. so, i'll sit down here
before the microphone and say,
Aug 8, 2019
Aug 8, 2019 at 12:53 PM UTC
ever been a ***** or a ******
i have. and other names
mostly given.
ever been a scapegoat?
i have. been a toy
to the hatfields and the mccoys.
any ink of brain leakage
taken to the sawbone
stitches over stitches
on my lips sewn by my own hands
the sands of time have passed, slow
as they can fall --
blood from rips goes on the walls
smear memories on the old ****
to make a little sense of the prison
in which i was living
make a little bit of sense of my enemies
apparently, i choose to ride the prisms
of a prison to the coffin, as i'm better use dead
but what kind of exit is a bullet to the head?
tell you, it's a mess, what it is
Aug 7, 2019
Aug 7, 2019 at 5:37 PM UTC
all this time, i've yet to come to terms with certain words
for instance, design, and all of its nuance
how do i design in true
when i am a shard of
azure experience in the
endlessness of midnight blue?
all this time, i've yet to call my good form to return
for instance, my designs, and all the nuances --
the water drains, shallow now,
from my composition,
as if i'm the desert, when once,
i was my own oasis.
reflection is a given. still,
how can i reflect this ill
in good faith, when the
poisonous sick saw my
leg up ascend into ruins?
Aug 7, 2019
Aug 7, 2019 at 1:26 PM UTC
I just watched a mini-documentary
on pig factory farming using
extreme confinement of individual pigs
in ‘gestation crates’:
I saw each poor pig
trapped within metal box-grates
which pressed against their flesh
stopping the pig from turning around
stopping the pig from walking around,
each pig suffers their whole life
standing in one direction
or slumped down on the ***** floor.
I saw pigs with open wounds, pressure sores, infections,
bleeding gums from biting the metal bars.
I saw pigs screaming in distress
Or suffering slumped down depressed.
I saw trapped pigs going mad
banging on the metal grates
distressedly trying to break free
and failing and slumping down depressed.
I ask myself
is there a humane way
to farm animals?
Such as free-range farming?
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 5:44 AM UTC
I can't believe I bought them.
Is this the top scoop?
I've entered a raffle for
pea & ham soup.
I can't even eat it,
I'm vegetarian you see.
Won't you just change it to
tomato for me?
I don't mind the peas,
It's the ham that's no good.
They slaughter those piggies
screaming, covered in blood.
Eyes bulging, their throats cut.
It's really not nice.
There's so much more to choose from,
not just cakes made of rice.
Have you seen how they nugget,
crispy goujons and breast?
They've found faeces and gristle
in a food safety test.
So don't think that these people
have your interests at best.
Look it up, do your research
and I'll give it a rest!
Poetry by Kaydee.
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 12:28 AM UTC
When did our homes become
tombs?
When did our truths become
lies?
When did our hearts become
stones?
When did our laughs turn to
cries?
When did our men become
gods?
When did our gods become
men?
When did this world become
someone's?
When, oh when, oh when?
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 11:41 PM UTC
My pitch through sow
and debt trouble superfluous
with wealth in Coe
where thrift a hoax now
but tread yuan nigh
there my dear and die in relief
that join forces by tomorrow's spring.
Mar 14, 2017
Mar 14, 2017 at 2:26 PM UTC
The man in the middle quietly weeps as the deafening crescendo grows on…
Hoping by chance he’ll soon join the dance but knowing deep down, somehow, he is wrong?
The people who lead have more than they need insisting on evermore -till it’s gone.
And at the end of the day they’ll cry merrily and gay;
“What happened t’was a wonderful song?” *
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 11:54 PM UTC
Some will make their home
Wherever they can
Get to with their feet.
Cardboard box houses
And pallets they find
By trash bins on the street.
The boxes work well
Unless it snows or rains
And then when they melt
It’s out to find a home again.
Go on home
Where the love is
Home to family
Go on home
Where you’re welcome
There is no home for me.
Cookie used to be a chef
He lives under that low bridge
He cooks in used coffee cans
That just how his life is.
Makes dinner when he has it
For us who have so little.
You’ll find him most days
Cooking delicious food
Halfway to the middle.
Go on home
Where your bed is
Home to wife and your kids
Go on home
And be grateful
And not living on the skids.
Some people gripe
When the waiter is slow
And some were once waiters
Themselves long ago.
Some people are full
After they have dined
Others only manage to eat
Whatever castoffs they find.
Go on home
Because you have one
Because you have a job.
Go home where no one
Call you a lazy slob.
Go home and thank God
You have a place to sleep.
Go home and be grateful
Go home and God keep.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 1:58 PM UTC
Sustenance for friends and clients;
state your case – come one, come all.
The matron arms of Social Service
will not let you fall.
Food stamps make our nation stronger,
licked, then stuck on the public roll.
Social programs last much longer
adding recipients on the dole…
Like the Ephesian Diana
many are my benefits!
Mine the matriarchal manna;
latch and suckle at my teats.
Yours the client’s right to nurture.
Mother will supply your need;
Child, you must not fear the future –
feed, my baby, feed.
Call me nanny, call me Lord
just make sure you’re calling on me.
Mine are the gifts you can afford
they’re taxpayer-funded, worry-free!
Once you are latched I’ll keep it flowing
like an intravenous habit.
Keep that ****** situated
where your will can never grab it
Let it never cross your mind
that there’s an end to all lactation.
Cloward-Piven have refined
this titillation.
Love me. Need me. I’m the State.
Your well-being is my affair.
With your consent I’ll dominate,
because I care.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 9:07 PM UTC
*i need (i want) Your help, You see,
i cannot go alone, just me.
and You with all Your wealth and gold,
should give and give and shall not hold.*
*yet Your safe is blocked with a guard man's lock,
and only little will You give,
even spare change goes nowhere but Your stock,
so force is the only way i live?*
Disparaged one, feel free to go on,
speak freely as you will.
but note your words are here then gone,
I'm busy working to pay the bill.
A common facade is that which you say,
I will not give to the poor, what dismay!
But while you sit and complain away,
and say that I am ill,
what change or good have you done today?
I'm busy working to pay the bill.
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 3:02 AM UTC
I try to escape, I try to fly
But you pull me down, you love my cries
It gives you strength to carry on
Not right from what is wrong
I try to run, I try to go
But you catch me back and stop my flow
You beat me down and stop my life
You make the days fill with strife
I try to tell, I try to speak
My future looks oh so bleak
This is not how I want to die
But you hold me back each time I try
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 8:18 AM UTC
There's a poem hidden on my tongue
but I just can't find it,
my mouth is numb.
I've been sipping on winter for way too long,
this city is colder than your bubbler ****
but I like the way it's one way streets all seem to lead from you to me,
and I like how you take them at full throttle
playing marco polo with the bottom of the bottle-
-As if you don't find it every night;
like the last few drops aren't your lullaby.
And it's an alibi that lulls you out of lucidity,
because your favourite superpower is anonymity.
And you don't mind if I show up when I'm ******* high,
because I'm a god **** child who can't handle life.
*I'm the peak of the mountain all covered in white,
I'm the age old dragon,
I'm the youthful sprite*
I'm the bowl that you smoke when you come down slowly,
I'm the pipe that you **** when you got no rollies.
I'm your vice, I'm your habit, I'm your bad addiction
I'm your fight, I'm your project, I'm your real life fiction.
I'm the cut on your tongue that you won't let heal,
I'm the poem in your mouth that you cannot feel.
Now I'm the lover of your discontent,
I'm the jar in your cupboard that's labelled 'rent'.
It's the 26th and the jar's still empty,
but we've got a two-six and your pouring hand's heavy.
Using whisky and water as lubrication-
it numbs and smooths through our expectations.
And I don't know when we made the agreement to feed our ***** and starve our feelings,
But my belly feels full like the waxing moon,
and my chest holds as much as a fractured spoon.
*Naked and hungry-
we share your bed
-searching for the words, in each other's heads.*
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 10:11 PM UTC