JH (January 4,1931 / a citizen of the world)

Inner City Blues

I look around and I see a city of struggle
Beautiful brown faces stifled from poverty,
Working hard to be rewarded little.
People trying to find ways to make it through,
Backed in a corner unable to leave
Bills raising higher, pockets getting slimmer
Mommy and daddy stressing from their decisions
Sacrifices made just so bills can be paid
Frigerator still empty belly’s still rumbling…

Broken promises for that broken girl
Broken dream in her broken world
Her baby born unplanned in her future
Baby’s daddy feigning for the money
Not enough jobs for an uneducated man
Go on the block on a daily hustling for the money
Selling that poison to that suffering mother…

Nightmares of death comes to her mind
Her only love buried 6 feet deep
Internal pain from the death of her child, she buries the needle deep in veins
The pain subsides as the drugs make her feel good
She fades as that tear drops.

This city’s building stands so tall and strong but the people crumbling inside
Too many blood dripping, to many mother crying, too much suffering.
This is a worst case of inner city Blues.

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Comments (20)

short and not so sweet! i think i detect one small sort of flip-flop, to try quoting your bio section about spelling mistakes. the way you feel after the stroke (if it really is you in the poem) is like my marriage feels sometimes. i may say to my wife, while we are in bed, let's do it, and she says you know you can't. : ( bri thanks for sharing. i hope you are still alive to read this or i will have wasted the last four minutes (or more) of my life!
My brother had a stroke and they told him he would never drive again. He was driving in a couple of months once home from the hospital. If this is from personal experience, I hope you've had the same success that he has. He has a slight limp. He says he has slight speech impairment, but I don't hear it.
so much in so few words!
so much in so few words!
Honor to those who fight the good fight.
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