The ratta tat tat of guns in the night...a fight...a fight to the death...in search of illusive respect. The conviction of the streets supersedes all cognition...all rationality...all logic...it’s dog eat dog, tit for tat, disrespect me I’ll disrespect you right back. No space or place for politeness…kindness portrays weakness… that’s just the way it is. What’s there to do but live hard in the face of endless denial; laugh hard during the constant struggle; party hard to revitalize and make dry bones come to life.
Poverty rocks hard!
The music blasts…feet dance fast…hearts beat as blood rushes through the veins transporting surreal images of feigned happiness…another puff…that’s the stuff to die for…another puff…calms nerves...another puff supports muscles that inadvertently crave in evolving waves of dependency...another puff to the point of no return to any pretense of normalcy.
Poverty rocks hard!
The high is fleeting looking down into the neck of an empty bottle, ranting...raving...fixating on who took the last of the elixir...the fixer. Rage smothered by day to day survival spies out a rival...a beef erupts spewing volcanic emotions and repressed anger into the atmosphere mushrooming into a toxic waste laced with venom... a gun is fired...that eradicates all semblance of euphony and implodes into a rubble of broken dreams as a stream of blood oozes from the collapsed corpse.
Poverty rocks hard!
Sirens wail in the night. Violence devours innocence...sorrow then masticates the essence of life regurgitating hopelessness. Shame becomes ingrained into the psyche…anger lashes out slapping kindness into a condition of degeneration… masochism becomes entrapped in isolation …love and fury become enmeshed in confusion crippling empathy impeding the expansion and the maturation of the human spirit.
Poverty rocks hard!
No comments:
Post a Comment