Kenneth, loves satire and writings to spotlight others, but he also has an "addiction" so to speak, to dramatic and abstract/prose poetry.
He runs the street dark cold
Eating bread crumbs mold
Sitting, staring inside the rain
Nobody, no one, can ever feel my pain
Cops curse, shake their heads again
Like every day before I came here
I don't talk anymore, just lap-up my tears
I see the poor, hungry hobo here for years
Just a bad reflection of little boy's pain nearing
Watching my steps to an ignorant mind
Hoping that a parent, a sober parent will come
Nope. Not momma. Not daddy. Life can bind.
Crawling through the shadows long
Just one more place to sleep
One more shadow that will creep
Little boy's pumping pain again
Sundown, sunrise, it all lives then dies
In moment's fast, I sleep, I dream,
Refrigerator box no home for good nor mean
What am I saying to you right now?
Little boy's pumping pain all day long.
Bullets sing off concrete walls sending
Chills up my spine. Tonight might be the night
That I can catch the silent train
Rest again, hide from the rain
And begin to pump the pain again.
© 2020 Kenneth Avery