Rich and working poor

Rich and working poor..

You should know them,

they created your poor

Life

income

abilities

advantages 

raises 

money divides. 

Death is the equality,

cries will sound the same.  

Neither will have enough to survive, 

to buy life from a grave.  

The questions will be greater at the end than through out life itself.  

Men and women in their endeavors for equal rights separate humanity,

they will never be equal to the working poor’s 

paycheck to paycheck 

a day away from unemployed 

beggars 

echoes of hunger. 

The poor are the riches illness

burden

thorn

reminder 

Of their own hearts 

disease 

desire 

failures

truth

lies

fears

class survival.

For self preservation 

War beginsnot with skin, 

age 

culture 

gender 

fact.

Guns of war

stir from threats by anything unlike it self,

blood on the hands of women and men 

for survival,

of race

colors

goods

lands 

entitlements 

gods. 

Streets of democracy decaying 

for self preservation.

Streets of gold paved with the cries of the innocent.

Lies of the elect have brought us to,

hatred,

divisions,

crumbling societies 

structures no longer erect

wars in silence 

justify death.

Nothing more than a wire

Remidies will never bring a solution but rather, creates more problems.” -beth

Life, nothing more than a wire..


The mind on chaos 

can never really connect.

Every need met through a wire.

Constantly staring into empty.

A device we worship more then worships us.

Enslaved to 5g speed.

Depressed we seek for hope,

commercials offer the remedy,

take daily for life.

Escapisms at the touch of a button.

We can love and never touch,

live and never move,

look and never see,

listen and never hear, 

the poverty on the streets.

While push our carts trough stop and shop,

throw a can into the box,

make a dent in hunger,

good deed done 

onto Dunkin’ Donuts, 

even no there’s no solution. 

Search through face book 

and know how perfectly flawed you are,

so the books will sell.

Ever seeking to be one with humanity,

we dig into an abyss on google 

isolated in a hole,

the stains won’t wash off,

One more pill.

We’ll never feel,

life has become nothing more than a wire.

Puppets

Beyond what is seen, lie shadows by which all things operate.” -beth

Half himself.

Half nightmare.

Half dream.

Half truth.

Half lies. 

A body of cloth, 

heads hollow, designed to be fitted over and over, manipulated by the hand. 

They are all an extension of the another. 

They follow what has already begun. 

They enforce what the other has made possible.

They are the puppets to another’s desire,

They are the story to an already written plot.

Puppets pulled by different strings.

The same cancer, just a different strain.