Houseless Homeless Social Security Vietnam Vet Poet RANT (2010)
They say one must truly believe
That if you build it, they will come.
But the words keep coming out with hope
That in reality the bills, say it is all but over.
That the motel bills almost equal Social Security.
In a Veterans Administration that is now charging me.
And with a Vietnam War feeling hitting me in the gut
That this PDTS, PTDS, DTPS of this living suicide hurts.
God, I struggle to make poetry pay poor pennies,
That the wealth I received are from people’s hearts,
When I write them something and they put it on a refrig,
Or a scrap book with fond memories as this treasure.
I have a little over a hundred in my wallet,
A credit card with 22% special rate high Obama APR.
That I need to get to January to take out more Keogh
That I lost over $14,000 out of 160,000 in 3 months.
This is 10 months of Social Security backup insurance.
That I do not have enough money to meet people
While I look at Washington with its axe really to fall
Again and again and again ……
God Bless America, but %#%& those Washington pompous asses
That under the Wizard of Oz, I am left a broken down munchkin,
Tattered into so many torn pieces like a Humpy Dumpty MLK dream
Of JFK Camelot that seen MLK had stature that did Occupy status.
Oh this lifetime Democrat has the Billionaire Brother Blues
Of Red, White in black and Blue Liberal hurtful Progressive bruises.
President divorced his Blue Collar family for Progressive glory.
He wanted to be a Tiger in this country club Reagan world.
He did prove that racial equality had hit American politics,
But had a Red, White, and Blue dark cast class caste of economics,
With Congress and the White House on the right side of the tracks,
And those in need and/or those on Social Security on the other.
Santa there is no god($) in Washington, just Tiffany jewel accounts,
Account of they work for special interest Conglomerate pyramids.
There is no Conservative Christian charity just homeless P.C. bashing
That now mortician politicians rule from political pulpits as Caesars
To declare churches cannot have outreach programs for any poor.
God, what kind of religion is so heartless and politically cruel as this.
God, after paying all my college debt, they are coming back for more,
Squeezing me so tight a turnip could not cough enough,
To spit verbal insults in their mortician political faces.
I feel like that Marine that Oakland police plummeted
Into a coma for protesting the inhumanity in Washington.
I cannot speak in how disgusted I am with Washington bureaucracy.
That I reclaimed my Declaration of Independence to Occupy my Liberal heart.
God please Occupy Washington with economic Christian Liberal compassion.
I have $150 left in a credit union and I might have to sell my sweetheart,
Who has carried my poetic dream - for together we are Alabama tag - POETS.
That when I take her new top down - we create convertible poetry
Going down the road with a tricorn hat and this ole Ben long hair image.
That sure could use some Ben Franklin advertisement making a few Franklins.
But Franklin is too Liberal of an image standing for Democracy and Freedom
They are looking for a Reagan Republic Country Club image of landowners.
My feet are swollen,
My teeth are hurt and falling out,
And the insanity that the VA says,
“I make too much,”
As this houseless homeless Social Security
Vietnam Vet broken down poet
That has black, blue, and white spots on his legs,
And itchy rash breakout spots on his hands
That puff up ugly in splotches
That need triamcinolone Acetonide Ointment.
That when I go to the VA,
They charge me $50,
Then say nothing is wrong.
God, do they need Ben Franklin spectacles
Or are they like those crappy teachers
That take money to do their jobs,
And do not care like political morticians running a morgue.
God, I pray to you,
That I just want to live a Middle Class life
But Wall St. has taken my corporate pension away.
They have taken 70 % of my KEOGH retirement.
That I was banned the use of poetry in my our home
That it must have upset someone in Washington.
That in America you are censored 24/7 in unwritten edicts
That will never be written down, not ever be recorded.
I was Terminated for Poetry on my resume reason.
So that destroyed any chance of any kind of employment.
But I took it as a sign from God to live my American dream
That the world can see that I am not Alabama obscene.
Just a Liberal with a Christian God that was given gifts
That one should never fear their words with swords of Truth
It is when you lie that you may prosper with growing guilt
That soon its dark shadow shall eat away all salvation
Leaving the s-hell of a person with an empty soul and heart.
Why, oh why, do I try?
It is useless to fight the Goliath demigods.
But I awake from the depression in the bed
To crawl in words that have so much meaning in pain
That sometimes one gives up the living suicide will,
But struggles back into the Uni-Verse
Houseless Homeless Social Security Vietnam Vet Poet
Brother can you spare a dime in the hard times of living suicide.
Where the poet tries to arise as a Phoenix
In the house of the rising sun.
David Lester Young 11/14/11 ©