Saturday, November 26, 2011

orphan poem


No interest indeed
to see what
you seek.
to be 
the end of all ends.

the self divides 
bending around
sticks drenched in the T
we all sit around
drink our fucking tea.
No mind of the street
         a place to sleep!
Hello! Are you listening to me??
(Check yer privilege, white girl)
Sit on your race
means nada 
what counts:  the energy
love you give and take.

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