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** *** **** ***** **** *** ** * In the low-rent projects for the poor and the disabled and the aged the helicopters fly over more often the medical examiner makes frequent house calls who lives in these buildings but those disenfranchised out of their American dreams the smog and gas fumes rise up from the highway the freight trains and public transport trains have their busy tracks just yards away the wise and benevolent city planners, the city council and the transportation commission all planned it this way they subsidized the high-rise low-income project where in the summer older tenants over-heat from the lack of air conditioning in the winter older tenants go broke from paying their own heat make a choice between paying medicine and rent or having some good and nutritious food to eat while food stamp dollars are carved down each and every year bit by bit they take your pride from you when you are old or poor or disabled and they put the homes you can afford to live in near the worst polluters and pollution now you tell me all about your phony humanitarian progressive non-solutions have they forgotten we are The People? * ** *** **** *** ** * LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS WORK/POEM AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER/AUTHOR MELISSA A HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE "MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD" this isn't an imaginary situation not some theme I simply decided to write about it is happening everywhere in America it completely describes a neighborhood in my un-fair city the medical examiner comes because so many people in that building are dying before their time..and we ought to blindly accept this? if the poor, disabled and elderly are relegated to the worst parts of the city, to locations where they are subjected to crime, pollution, the worst elements...what kind of benevolence is this. this speaks volumes to the lack of any kind of benevolence. Out of sight, out of mind, seems to be a more honest estimation. what happens to the most vulnerable will eventually happen to all of us...you have heard the stories who will come for us when there is no on left to speak when we are left to be the last. think about it long and hard. Vote for this poem |
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