"jeweller" poems - Hello Poetry

Bottom feeders flourish When the economy's a bust When bad times are the norm And good times turn to dust When neighborhoods go south it's sad But a sign of their demise Is when a bunch of pawn shops open up Before your very eyes When stores close down or move on out After years in the same place Their memory is a radar blip They leave without a trace But as fast as they lock up their doors Another shop moves in It's the local pawn shop dealer He's a shark without a fin Like dollar stores and boarded doors The pawn shop shows the way That business has moved on out Or closed or moved away They prey on peoples hardship They broker deals without a care They don't need to know your history They just know that you're there The street has three new pawn shops Palaces of buy back stuff It's bad when there is one around But, three...well that's enough One opened by the Jeweller Two doors down across the street Now he's buying up possessions Of everyone he meets Folks who purchased jewellery From Old Cy at his old store For each twenty of it's value The pawn shop gives you four Cy can't afford to buy back He doesn't have much money left And besides his store insurance Doesn't cover much for theft The people at the Pawn shops Took jobs and live in town They trained two counties over They succeed when times are down It's a sign of the recession Downtown dies and fades away And then the bottom feeders surface Their the ones who're gonna stay You can look in the shop windows Know who bought what and from where You know the candlesticks were bought at Cy's And you know who bought them there The guitar that hangs beside them That was pawned by Emma Rose She needed money for the bills When the fresh fish plant had closed There's a snapshot of the township Sitting inside on their walls They pawn shop is successful While the economy still falls You can see a piece and start to cry For you know just why it's there There's no one here to help them There's no jobs and it's not fair They open up each morning While the nights dregs still sleep outside They have done two hours business Before lights on at Cy's It's a sad and constant story Of just what a town's become But when asked if they've been in there The inhabitants go "mumb" They never seem to close up The town's never make it back While most places lose money Pawn shops make it by the sack The bluesman has some stuff there The bartender has some too Even though her bar's still going She did what she had to do The street, it is it's own world Jewelly shops, banks and bars But inside the local pawn shops Are hidden all the scars.

0

May 11, 2012

May 11, 2012 at 7:54 PM UTC

roger-turner

The Pawn Shop

Bottom feeders flourish When the economy's a bust When bad times are the norm And good times turn to dust When neighborhoods go south it's sad But a sign of their demise Is when a bunch of pawn shops open up Before your very eyes When stores close down or move on out After years in the same place Their memory is a radar blip They leave without a trace But as fast as they lock up their doors Another shop moves in It's the local pawn shop dealer He's a shark without a fin Like dollar stores and boarded doors The pawn shop shows the way That business has moved on out Or closed or moved away They prey on peoples hardship They broker deals without a care They don't need to know your history They just know that you're there The street has three new pawn shops Palaces of buy back stuff It's bad when there is one around But, three...well that's enough One opened by the Jeweller Two doors down across the street Now he's buying up possessions Of everyone he meets Folks who purchased jewellery From Old Cy at his old store For each twenty of it's value The pawn shop gives you four Cy can't afford to buy back He doesn't have much money left And besides his store insurance Doesn't cover much for theft The people at the Pawn shops Took jobs and live in town They trained two counties over They succeed when times are down It's a sign of the recession Downtown dies and fades away And then the bottom feeders surface Their the ones who're gonna stay You can look in the shop windows Know who bought what and from where You know the candlesticks were bought at Cy's And you know who bought them there The guitar that hangs beside them That was pawned by Emma Rose She needed money for the bills When the fresh fish plant had closed There's a snapshot of the township Sitting inside on their walls They pawn shop is successful While the economy still falls You can see a piece and start to cry For you know just why it's there There's no one here to help them There's no jobs and it's not fair They open up each morning While the nights dregs still sleep outside They have done two hours business Before lights on at Cy's It's a sad and constant story Of just what a town's become But when asked if they've been in there The inhabitants go "mumb" They never seem to close up The town's never make it back While most places lose money Pawn shops make it by the sack The bluesman has some stuff there The bartender has some too Even though her bar's still going She did what she had to do The street, it is it's own world Jewelly shops, banks and bars But inside the local pawn shops Are hidden all the scars.