The Inner City

The old house sagged like an empty sack,
a stark testimony to its slow decay,
but it was still peopled front to back,
swarming like bees as they say.

God, the place was alive with kids,
such as ghetto housing is today,
in noisy glee they all made their bids,
each screaming to have their say.

Idle menfolk lounged on the stoops,
doors framed women and girls alike,
others ranged outside in groups,
as kids on the sidewalks rode bikes.

Unemployment had pervaded the ranks,
like a deadly plague would do,
no one here had a need for banks,
for privation was nothing new.

Noah's ark could not have been more packed,
with its animals two by two,
the only thing that the ark lacked,
was the tumult and wild ado.

Lord, let someone come forth with a plan--
someone who perceptively sees,
someone with a forced, firm hand,
to raise the poor up from their knees!

by Adger Jackson

Other poems of ADGER JACKSON (2)

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