From Golden to Broken


The projects are there…

everything is drenched in poverty.

Lady in black,

how do I know you?

Unless I take another wrong turn,

I will never find you again.

I’m lost down the longer path.

My words will wither in your wrath…

unmarked vehicles tailing the human face-

in metal chalk outlines.

Keep up the pace,

or get left behind,

What I think about the most-

victims of landmines.

Hold me close to your unapologetic ghost.

The proverbial, lustrous cutlery

smacks me when I think or create.

Amber waves infected by chemical rain,

please deprive me of America.

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