"sundy" poems
Sundays
come in two flavors-
hallelujah
and goody powder
goody powders
go down easier
with flavored water
not the **** variety
but strawberry
or cherry
wall clock
goes ****
****
where's my ****
hallelujah-
FIRE
r ~ 9/7/14
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 8:47 AM UTC
Dey can' make me ride no bus.
I'm tellin' you, dey can' make me.
You know, dey all riled up in dere,
since we started walkin' to work.
I's like dey finally startin' to realize what we can do.
I tell you, Yvonna, I walk three mile to work
e'ry day. E'ry day! Can you believe?
I walk all dat way in my heels;
oh, how my feet are blisterin'!
But I don' let 'em know, no, ma'am.
No, ma'am. I jus' smile like I got all deh
love a' Heaven on my side! Can you believe?
Yes, ma'am, I do. I do.
I get home e'ry day now afte' supper
'cause I can' take no bus.
I much rather walk dan sit in deh back, believe me.
But i's so sad, Yvonna, you know?
To see my chirren tryin' so hard tah cook for 'emself.
I feel bad, honestly.
My husban', he workin' so hard,
he almos' die when he come home.
We go to church, Yvonna, e'ry Sundy, you know?
Don't you, girl?
I pray. I pray dat all dem white people
will leave us alone. Alone, I say!
Dey all preachin' 'bout "We Da People"
'n all dat **** well, I tell you,
we people too!
We may be black but I tell you,
I tell you, Yvonna, we God's people, too.
Yes, ma'am, we are.
Speak up, girl, I can' hear you.
Well, I guess it don't matter.
Ain't like nobody listenin'.
Nobody listenin' to a old, achin' feet *****
Nobody but you.
Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 2:50 PM UTC