Wayne Bowen

Rookie (Florida)

No Hope - Poem by Wayne Bowen

Brick buildings rise up
and look down on broken streets
as gutted cars sit like empty shells.
Vacant lots full of yesterday's needs,
windblown papers cling to a fence
weeds and broken glass
own the dirt where
no one walks.
Vermin run free in
once proud buildings
now decaying from misuse
and time.
They know they are safe
by not giving up
their souls like the other tenants.
Tomorrow never comes here,
only misery.
Tracks on half naked skeletons
show like a road map
to nowhere.
A cry for relief to make
them feel human
willing to trade a glimpse
of who they really are
in exchange for pain.
A new generation cries
on deaf ears, not heard
like those before them,
in a place where lust
has replaced love.
Young girls become
home schooled whores
from watching their
mother's swinging door.
The streets turn boys
into men so fast
there is no time for memories.
They kill a color to belong
now allowed to take a portion
from the same table as others.
Trying to find hope
for themselves with others.
Thinking they are secure
and taking a place
of priviliege at the
corner store feeling their worth
for the first time,
realizing their power
can give life or death
as they desire.
Then a challenge comes
not from a different color,
but from within,
and they realize too late
that where power rules
there is no hope.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, December 28, 2009

Poem Edited: Saturday, January 16, 2010


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