Treasure Island

Mustafa Marconi

(23 Nov.,1961 / New York, New York)

And The Tears Keep Rolling On


A quarter, a nickel, or maybe even a dollar
Seems like the poor
Always looking out for the poor
As the tears keep rolling on
The clock strikes twelve
There is rain on the horizon
A man digs deep into his pocket
His soul moved by the plights
Of the suffering, the homeless, and the deprived
“Fools”, cries the man with the cynical heart
The church shall cater to those worth saving
Send your alms to the many houses of the Lord
Charity for churches only
And the tears keep rolling on

A quarter, a nickel, and maybe even a dollar
Seem like the rich at heart
Are always looking out for the poor
While many with Bibles, Torahs, and Qurans
Consciously look the other way
And many who prosper
Turn their noses up in disgust
Clinging tightly to their religion
Exhibiting little, if any humanity
Women, children, unemployed and under employed
Enduring economic terrorism
The underprivileged and disenfranchised
Excluded from the American dream
Their fantasies interrupted
By the daily nightmares
Of trepidation, hopelessness, and insecurity
The clock strikes twelve
There are no legitimate prospects on the horizon
A child digs deep inside her pocket
Moved by a homeless mother plead for help
Exhibiting genuine love and concern
She exemplifies the spirit of humanity
Satisfied she has done everything in her power
She smiles, clinging tightly to her oath of faith
The homeless mother thanks her
As the tears keep rolling on

Submitted: Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Edited: Tuesday, May 12, 2009
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