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The Surplus Population

One man's kitchen
is the next man's garbage stop
Some folks got to be seen
eating at all the right spots.
old cheese nips and backwash brandy,
soda pop
is all we got handy.
It's the best we can do.
It'll do in a pinch.
For the next day or two
feel your empty stomach clench.
You soon find out
food kitchen preparation,
isn't part or parcel of God's creation.
They're not filling big holes.
But unjustly subletting lost souls.
See how the surplus population succumbs.
Ah, these sniveling crumbs.
A day's worth of asking can't cover
a fraction of what's been spent.
Doomed to damnation,
the poor are readily sent.
Redemption's usurped.
Terror lurks under raw city lights.
One dirty blanket over cardboard,
small comfort on cold nights.
What you'd give for a room with a window
to simply look out?
It's an impossible dream.
And with each new day,
learning how not to die.

Copyright 2009
Meloo/Melissa A. Howells
A work in observation of long standing.

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