"ebt" poems
I tried
Slashing the wrists of poverty
With an EBT swipe
But he isn’t merely food stamps
He is needle
He is malt
Licker of oppressed ********
****** dreams
Fellatio’d by sored gums
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 4:39 PM UTC
There's an atm in my neighborhood
That gives out singles,
Or three of them,
Or seven,
And so on.
It sits next to the drywall box
Filled with EBT dinners,
Next to the numbered gas pumps.
It glows in the predawn air,
While I sit on a cement wall
Across the street.
That hunk of junk charged me $3.75 to take out $7.
Next to me a man tells his inquisitive boy
Why the police act as they do.
"They the cops, man.
Not you."
I'm watching with rapt fascination
The ten inch screen
Of some wheelchair-bound woman's
Educational tablet,
While her hand, twisted by palsy,
Taps at a magnified qwerty pad.
She's playing hangman,
And I silently,
Secretly,
Guess along with her for almost fifteen minutes.
The bus arrives, and I'm grateful
It's the doubled kind with the hinge in the middle,
Cuz maybe I won't have to stand.
I take the empty seat next to
A Salvadoreña co-worker
I sometimes ride in to work with.
Our conversations are limited,
As are her English and my Español.
We laugh at the Georgetown gringitas
lining up with their morning runners' clubs,
And lament over the cabrones pobres
Peddling to strangers for jobs
Outside the big box hardware store
That won't hire them.
The sun rises as we cross the Key bridge,
And the wounded Washington Monument,
With its scaffolding and the floodlights leaking through,
Is a diamond-studded phallace
Shining over a town draped in a shroud of humidity.
I close my eyes and try to rest
For the eleven minutes between
Me and my desk.
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 5:52 PM UTC
The other day I passed by a homeless family
All 10 sitting under a mango tree
They didn't have much but they seemed happy
Now here we learn a valuable lesson
We don't need money to solve everything
Maybe peace is a lot more simpler
Smile show a simple or two
Or try to have a conversation with someone new
We all co exist in a world that was meant to be limitless
But now we engage in a never ending conflict
That's so sick, it makes me nauseous
So let's be cautious
Of how we let the young kids talk
It can go from a computer screen to a life long sentence and a death row walk
Cause look ignorance is bliss
And we can't pass this
We learn to respect and prioritize
But we fail to realize that this can also lead to carelessness
It's nothing less than how we carry ourselves
We minimize this never ending flow or we criticize
So *** it who cares what he's wearing
Your tearing this kid apart with his tagged clothes
But you don't know the story
Never had anything like a young Kody
Grew up in the projects a 12 story building
Moms a crack addict never tried rehabilitatin
Dad works 9-5 trying to fulfill his families ever needs
Living off of food stamps and EBT
This **** is no acting like TNT
Plenty was never in his vocabulary
He prays to god and at times asks "why me"
Feels like he's being beat
Feels like everything is getting worse in this universe
So next time you think you are cursed with having it worse
Listen to my words and every verse
Cause world peace is key
It helps us create an ideal reality
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 11:49 PM UTC
The movement of her body was entirely too loud
She is desert throat gasps
When the water is so good
She doesn’t stop for air
Can hear her comin’
Her rusty train wreck tremble
On loose tracks
Her collapse is a cinderblock rain
The crumble is so much quieter than the crash
Her crumble is so much quieter than the crash
Her hands shake as she swipes her EBT card for the fifteenth time
She puts back the bacon this time
Throws down 5.50 for the Marlboros
She talks to herself
Angrily
Slams ever door she enters
Every door she exits
Her children think she is crazy
She is crazy
She is a body built
On passive aggression
And the threat of a shaky foundation
When the earthquake hits
Any day could be my last day you know
Her son turns up the tv
Her daughter plugs her headphones into her cd player
Do you all think I am talking just to hear myself talk?
And if you don’t stop sleep talking
*Telling me you’re going to **** me*
I am sending you to the hospital
The boy mutes the tv
Dries his eyes before they’re wet
He shakes his head
Begs her not to do that
Says he doesn’t know he’s doing it
Says he doesn’t want to **** her
She walks away
And he is left wondering
I remind him later
That we were not raised on truth
So it’s hard sometimes
To trust people
I put a lock on his door
Tell him to shut himself in at night
As for the mother
We don’t talk anymore
Like I said
She’s crazy
And I’ve got too much of that myself already
Somewhere a door is slamming
Somewhere cinderblocks are crumbling quiet
There is a sizzle like slowly cracking glass
I feel it crawl my spine
It crawls his
The girl misses it
Head buried in pop culture
Going deaf in trying to drown out
Her mother’s noise
Do you think I am talking just to hear myself talk?
As a poet I ask myself the same thing
Ask how far the apple can fall from the tree
If any one of us are lucky
It will be just far enough
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 1:20 PM UTC
What can you say
to a generation who don't remember
your summer of love.
Who don't see the ribbon in the sky
Stevie wonder,
couldn't see
but saw .
The eventual maturity of a culture
whose built their identity off those brave enough to speak up.
when so many of us have been rendered cowards,
a perceived perception
fulfilling the essence of,
"Throw that *** in the circle!"
For that moment of miniscule acceptance
a belonging without question, we’ved missed since grade school .
“i am Full of myself, full of myself, i am full of myself” ,
as beyonica sells dreams of bootylicious billion dollar unions
nicki minaj and *** implants is the logical evolutionary conclusion
what's going on
no Marvin gaye
we already know
found our idol's.
they comes on
Mondays at 7.
So we don't look for them no more
Their Preprogrammed
Failed by the previous generation
who couldn't seem to find themselves and their patients long enough to lead.
What can you say to a generation
whose music don't speak of waiting in waters, but shaking those waters just enough
to get what you can from EBT
or being just quite enough so you don't have to scream
“I can't breathe”.
A battle between law and survival
and Democrats ain't been no better than Republicans since the 1700's
we’re still holding our breath in waiting..
**** your revolution old *****
it ain't did nothing
but make people believe that I have something that I could never
hold in my hand.
A black president
freedom
and a land
Turn up.
To the slowest change in history,
still waiting for equality on all fronts
this movement was debunked,
like the memories of Americans
30 minutes primetime cycles
What can you say
to a generation
who does the nea nea
where teddy bears and liquor bottles mark the legacy of the deceased
once lay,
such a short memory
these corner they lived and died for a singular belief
money over ******* get rich by all means.
that's our raising the bar
“go for the millions”
and if we play it right
miley cyrus
will twork your way to a grammy.
What can you say
to a generation.
where gay is so gay
no one knows it’s true meaning
we're all just dreaming
make it up as we go
bought into a coma
now trying to wake up.
What can you say
to this generation
except sorry
we left you nothing to hold on too.
but shadows
and hypocritical finger
that rely
“don't as i do “
but
“do as i say”
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 2:07 PM UTC
It was the only year that I got fat
From eating chocolate bars that my mother bought with the left over EBT cash
That way when she did my laundry
she could get mad about the
Chocolate stains on my sleeves
So I ate until I got sick
And bled until I passed out
It was the year that hangs heavy in the hallows of my heart
The same year of my second suicide attempt
You should know this
I know the crash of the gallows hangin’ from your shoulders
Sends thunder through your ears
I know the angel that’s supposed to sit on the other
Looks like a gargoyle sometimes
I know there are days where
You freeze up
Locked in place until someone finally touches you
There were words trapped underneath my skin
So I cut them out
So I could finally makes sense
Of the irregular morse code of my heart beat
There were words comin’ out of my mouth
Always the wrong words
So I tried to lasso my throat shut
What you should know is
There will always be days where gravity tries to trap you here
It’s why I ring doorbells all the time
My angel needs its wings
I want your angel to have its wings
This year
This is the year that
I find the words
To explain to you what my heart’s been sayin’
The year the gallows no longer crash
The year my angel gets its wings
If you didn’t know this before
You are so perfect
You are so amazing
Your smile is amazing
On the days you are happy to see me
I swear I could take your cheeks sailing
We never needed the words
To explain what my heart's been saying
At any given moment
As long as I am breathing
There’s a guy
Thumbin’ doorbells as desperate as impatience
Teary eyed and trembling
Just trying
To get you back your wings
Jul 16, 2011
Jul 16, 2011 at 1:09 PM UTC
I’ve been breathing
When I’m supposed to
And keeping it held
When I get close to
Figuring out
What it means
To breathe in
And out
I leave through
A red door
Into the rain
To find some piece
Of mind floating
In a puddle
Next to a fry
Box from
Burger king
If I pick it up
And put it back
In my head
It’ll be wet
And that’s fine
I suppose
Irene still feels
So close,
She’s still in her
Mill floating
Through life
On a death-raft
Of pills
But I can’t stress her
I know she doesn’t need
Another stressor
I know she spent
Her last dollar on rent
It’s cheap but
So was the asbestos
In 1917
So I guess its a trade off
I take off my walking shoes
And trade off for a bike
And splash through
Puddles on my
Way to find the
Northwest passage
In North Providence
And I’m controlling my breathing
Or my breathing
Is controlling me
Either way I can’t
Really see
Cuz it’s dark
It’s raining
And I left my
Glasses next to
My mind so
They wouldn’t get
Wet and make it
Hard to see
It can’t be that hard to see
Why can’t the girl
With the book
On break
Simply look
Past the Ebt and
***** sheets
And see the dirt
Within me?
She’s seen Isaac
Proclaim
How much beauty
There is
In dirt
And I guess
I’m the same
But I guess
This is best
Since I’ll only
Hurt or be hurt
As we learn and
Forget
Each other’s
Names.
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 12:22 PM UTC
tried to buy a little of it
a new brain and new shoes
thought the name had meaning, like Good humor stood for
good treats my mamma never had a dollar for,
placed , after selecting a two dollar pair of Adidas and a fifty cents pair of socks
on the counter, and a brain with street sense common, the
( tatooed brown girl, kinda hot)
smiling, chuckled when I tried to pay with my food stamps.
Where as I was serious she thought I was kidding as she said we don't take EBT's and I asked can I get you next week.
meaning, innocently , the balance.
She did give me her number,
but no credit. I walked out empty headed , handed,
skipping with a 555 ou812 written on my forehead.
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 3:41 AM UTC
The day the needle hit my vein I said to my self I’ll never be the same in the hospital going insane trading ebt for chump change like dam it’s a hurricane I need to get back to my old line ****** is Scared to lose friends and have enemy I’m like ***** you ever felt your own body not having your back looking at life this **** it wack stack up racks cause at 21 that’s where I was at now I’m playing for the Yankees cause my backwoods fat I ain’t rapping for fun I’m speaking facts low self esteem couldn’t get no *** from these Instagram chicks had to to go the back rout going to back page looking for the right number no feelings attach to blow her back out no love in the game **** is done you **** up i **** up **** it let’s just give up in my mind like dam there is no love then after that get hit by a cold storm dialysis trying to keep my attach to its self analysis transplant on a scary month always played dum just to watch you chumps I think it’s my time of the month I’m just so sprong 7 years of no birthday no fun had to take my self out my own body like look at your self you *** never really spoke about my feelings just kick it lay back smoke a blunt cause I wasn’t in to the other drugs but the hospitals visit and stay num me up Percocet’s up back pain now I’m just trying to find the way out like rapunzel rapunzel let your hair down so I can climb my way to being back to number 1 cause being number 0 **** felt like eating water with cereal
Oct 8, 2020
Oct 8, 2020 at 1:33 AM UTC
I feel the vibrations on my bed, moving through the springs and into my bones. I blush at the feeling of this, my heart starts racing like addict waiting for his fix. my mood changes as this feeling gets to me. i go from having the worst day ever to feeling very much alive. the smile consumes me from the inside of my soul to the outside my face. the ****** i receive from those vibrations is everlasting, i don't know what else feels like this and i dont care. i grab my phone and answer your call and the vibrations stop and my mood changes. looking for advice on what to do, as i realize im just an emotional ***** call..EBT.
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 1:51 AM UTC
I’ll have every female ****** up with just my smile of my teeth
Till I’m eating you out with all of my welfare smile that I scored from EBT
I’ll have every female ****** up till enwombed married, then give all of you wrinkles
Like just sellin all my cd covers like we’re to marry at kinkos
I’ll have every female see that I’ve made it at battle heights
Till I’m searching through all of your phones for more women like I owned every satellite
I’ll have you overeating food like my soul was in marriage desperation
Have you thinkin wedding like every pound of my *** in ************
I’ll have every female ****** up collecting poetry like Irish things
To have you scared while I’m swinging my fist at your belly to all of you when pregnant when I’m smelling like Irish spring
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 1:01 PM UTC
Witches brewing evil **** in the cauldron
Mamas itching to get her hands on it
Fill up the tin and she forgot who her kids were again
Too high chasing butterflies and dancing in the street
Not enough money for the children just to eat
cause she sold her ebt looked me in the eyes and said pretty please
Forgive me baby, please don't cry
Never will admit for the reason why
I smoked dope when I was 17
Maybe that's why I found the sympathy she needs to repent for her sins she commit way back when when we were still pure but not much of that lasted we grew cold
And I grew older, enough to realize what's behind her sad dead eyes
Because the fallen angel still hums to me at night
Bringing me back to that time in the broken RV when she handed me the pipe and promised I could fly and i did
But I crashed and burned and I yearned for more
And more I needed it I took it and I smiled and I laughed because I was free from the shackles that held me grounded
And my head flourished
And malnourished I became because I sold all my work to buy more fine power
The voices grew louder and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't silence them
The evil had taken me and till death I was due to live a life just needing one more hit
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 4:08 AM UTC