Tag Archives: poverty

Working Poor

Here we don’t chase no nationalized dream, we run from the reality that those folks chasing the dream run right over us, until it’s time to vote. We don’t have time to dream. Life is too short. Cold weather and sore backs won’t even let us sleep long enough.

We don’t need a hand up or out. We’ll be fine if you just keep your hands out of our pockets and let us keep the money we earn.

Keep our hands free from your fake bracelets. Leave us alone to wave goodbye your peddling laws for the drugs you sponsor. Stop pretending you wanna shake our hand when you’re really shaking us down from our homes to the trap disguised as a convenience store, into the hallways of your schools designed to steal our children’s minds. Keep your hallelujahs, we have our own prayers, and they’re free!

I’m sick of folks attacking the poor. They want something in return for every kindness. You demonize our mothers for a few stamps that fund your economy. You want to trade their piss for some block cheese. You musta forgot all those hypocrites you got for neighbors who got jobs handing out that cheese. You don’t understand the “10 for 10” at your poseur grocery is funded by the subsidies they get receiving all that state money. You don’t understand how many of your neighbors are gonna be movin if we decided to not spend those stamps.

These idiots don’t even know how they benefit from our decision or misfortune to live poor. They don’t even understand that “Targey” they shop at, or that Japanese food joint they enjoy on their lunch break was possible because the company that built it hired temporary laborers a few days a week cause they’d lose money putting those folks on a payroll. They built these homes and businesses on the backs of those kids sucking the milk from those vouchers.

You enjoy those nice positions you got outta hustle, not effort. We ain’t stupid. You locked out everyone who mis stepped and relegated them to poverty so that lazy bastard you raised on microwaved popcorn and video games could have a chance. These entitled little shits couldn’t last a day in our world. They’d be back on your couch in the basement complaining about the tv reception.

The working poor in this country carry the nation. You ain’t building high end homes or businesses without us working to save you dollars as sub contractors or under the table labor. Those taxes you talk about paying that make you so special are made because low wages enable you to keep the flow of money rolling.

It’s cool though. Trading piss for food ain’t a bad deal. Hands dirty from work cleanse the mind, while hands dirty from deeds poison it. Understanding this ignorance from the ground up gives us experience. We nod and smile as you further your dysfunctional ideas as something progressive or conservative. The view don’t change from down here though, all we see is asses.

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Circles of Crazy

They say I’m poor, downtrodden and lazy
Because I sit and watch these circles of crazy

My worth doesn’t count on dollars and cents
Like others who live and lie behind a star spangled fence

My clothes are worn, not tattered, and my hands are soiled
But my mind is callouses from the hours toiled

No suit or tie except Sunday’s, weddings, and funerals
Only slaves wear things around their necks like animals

My back is hard with pain and glory, no time to tell, just living my story.

So don’t count on me for dollars or votes
I’ll be workin real hard on next weeks notes

I ain’t got time for drama or fiction,
Just the truth I see about you and conviction.

I Hope!

Hope is a double edge sword tempered by fear and sharpened by faith. It matters not what we know, or learn, or experience. It only matters that we feel we deserve the possibility of brighter days and calmer nights.
Tempered emotions see through feelings of doubt. It’s the trepidation that guide each step silently through the crowds of reality. Desolate figures strewn throughout rubbles streets boil grease slicked water for a blessing.
Looking for a sign through hundred yard stares, hoping, not sure whether the sun is beating down on your back or shine down on your life. Then rain washes away the doubt leaving you shivering with the reality that hope is lonely.
Lonely in a sea of faces and exhaust that pollute the air revealing your soul in grey shadows on graffiti drawn walls. Your thoughts dwell behind the fragmented words that leap off the wall with anger. How can you lose hope to the point anger is soothing.
In this twisted state of emotion you sit in the filth of one hundred souls shedding their spirit for noodles and a God who gives that one chance to cleanse your soul and stand tall in the face of poverty.
It’s not the grime or the hunger that hides hope. It’s not the clothes or the state that sees hope is possible. It’s the mind that says “one more step is a step closer to something, and something id better than nothing”!
I hope!

Crayon Box Kids

I know you’re busy. I realize that wasting time on this crayon box shit them idiots been carrying around for years, or a check, is tired. It’s past ignorance if that’s possible. I understand you have to work, take care of family and spend time with friends, but you have to take a minute.

We let these bastards run their mouth to long. Yeah, it wasn’t worth it to shut them up, but it ended up being like the child that was never disciplined and suddenly became too big for everyone’s britches. Now these little idiot actually have folks convinced their legit and he brought the playground with him.

I know you hear about colors that matter and wonder why. Just like I wonder about geeks who are so afraid of the dark they take their sheets outside with them so they can keep their minds hidden under their sheets.

We shut these fucks up for a minute, but they ain’t going away. We knew this and moved on not realizing folks would find dollars in the pockets of sagging pants. We didn’t realize the sheets would get folded up and put away for hair styles. Who knew that these miedra ignorante would steal the cowboys bandana to wipe their ass instead of sweat from a hard days work.

They’re all the same. Like some adolescent bitch in heat they dress up, fix their hair, and show their ass like it’s some booty for mentally incapacitated hood rats who colors kids white, black, brown or red like pit bulls in a whelping box. Who knew we would end up listening to these feminized men trying to emasculate jewelry and fashion to entertain their Momma’s through an audience of baby Momma’s raising little man.

I can’t understand the toothless bastard stealing flags and soldiers medals to paint their town white. Even crazier, there’s a chicken shit cracker eating desk jockey out there buying this fool the paint and brushes as long as he don’t tell no one. You know the one, he has masks and dollars to masquerade as a leader, he cut his teeth in a church building that could only produce a spirit with white robes.

I know you’re out there quietly shaking your head like me. I know you see through the race hustle like I do. Usted ve la ignorancia. We are humans. We left our crayon boxes in elementary school. We aren’t fools lost in some world of physical attributes as power, our power is seeing through bandanas, sheets, and feminized male fashion.

Now we have to speak to those cultures trying to usurp our efforts and failures as their excuse for choosing to get theirs. These micro cultures within our diverse country don’t deserve a voice when they start screaming like little man in Walmart trying to get a new toy. We need to understand for them they’ve been a political bitch for decades to a movement that will stoop to any level to create a vote.

These political pariahs don’t support the poor, they exploit the govt assistance chasing hood rats and their colorful offspring for entertainment. They don’t care about the immigrant that’s no longer Mexican, and will never be American. They make movies about drugs, bandanas, and guns. They don’t care about the poor folks of all colors, they pit us against each other using false stats and cops who work for spineless administrators who don’t know the first thing about leadership. And we fall for the ruse, folks believe there’s a race problem because they are still the political bitch and don’t know the difference between cultures and race.

Old folks say just cause you’re poor don’t mean you have to be dirty. I say just cause we’re poor we don’t mean we have to be ignorant. The more we study, or research, the more we realize them folks ain’t that smart anyway.

Rise above the ignorance. Take control of your reality. Understand that your people are in your circle and anybody trying to represent better step back. A real man don’t let no bitch dressed up acting represent him. We stand tall in our own boots and sandals. We stand with our sons and daughters, wives and parents, as an example of a free man. Free physically and mentally from any influence of dollars or comforts we ain’t earned. We ain’t no particular color, we’re a particular character, and we’re calling Ya’all out!

Faux Oppression

Your revolution ain’t special. These virtual warriors out there sending out tweets, blurbs, and blogs about how they’re oppressed in America. Get real. There isn’t a group of folks within these borders who even knows what oppression feels like outside of being bullied in a classroom or cyber space.
It’ disingenuous to use race, gender, ethnicity or culture as a victim status in America. There is one exception and you don’t hear from them, that’s the working poor. They don’t scream on social media or protest in popular cities. They live life at a shade grayer than the rest of the country.

These are the folks you call when the dealer wants to much for your oil change. These folks cut your grass when the chain landscapers are cutting into your budget. These folks repair those hot water heaters in your 200 square foot garages for the same price the contractor charges for an estimate. These aren’t the folks sittin around waiting for a go fund me miracle or SSI.

The underground economy is alive and well. It’s maintained with debts and promises of nothing more than a dollar or work. Taxes are not collected, just debts. Fees aren’t levied, but it costs to do business everywhere. Penalties are harsh. Failure to pay debts means I loss of something valuable, even life in some cases.

These folks live on their wits. Nice things have a price no matter where there bought or bartered. The working poor in this country don’t go to the hospital or doctor. The kitchen is the ER. These folks don’t have pain insurance to support a pain med addiction. They use alcohol for minor pains, WD 40 for arthritis, and barter with neighbors for left over meds. They don’t care about Obamacare, Americare, or any care. Their only care is feeding the family and gas to work.

Folks who work and hustle to stay afloat don’t care about schools and funding. They send their kids to school as a place of business. Their kids ain’t there to be politicized or philosophized. They send their kids to school to work. They remind their kids that school is a luxury and not a place to be weak or spoiled. It’s not a fashion show or social experiment, it’s the kids job and they better take it seriously.

You don’t hear from these folks and they like it that way. You see poor working folks are free. They take hard times silently and good times graciously. They take good times in stride and count blessings or luck depending on how tough life’s been. We don’t want your interference in our health, our finances, or our kids life. We just want to be left alone.

So the next time you have an election, raise taxes, or try to usurp the countries health leave us be. We’ll be fine using home remedies, selling something of value, and whipping our kids ass when they forget who they are at school.

You can have this faux democratic system that creates dollars and privilege for some. You can have your checks and programs for those folks who live on a hand out. Our county has walls; it’s right where the pavement ends and the dirt begins. You can step in the yard with a warning, but the porch ain’t for folks like you. You’re not welcome within our borders.

We’re steadily looming for a way to be American outside of your corrupt system. We by houses lease to own. We maintain our vehicles ourselves or barter work with a mechanic friend. We recycle things to improve our lives, not because it’s cool. We repurpose things because everything and everyone can have a purpose, we dislike throwing things or folks away. Most importantly we see right through what our government has become, and instead of making excuses because we could benefit from the government; we learnt the lesson that some things just serve no purpose other than serving itself.

Homeboy

To all my brothers and sisters out there; just know that poverty is an idea they made up to keep us in our place because we see things differently. Not better or worse, cause we don’t give a fuck what you do or have. We only care for ours.

We have to get past the idea that govt, religion, or schools are gonna bring us together; we are together everyday of our lives and most days are good, without those institutions. They’re the ones that divided the world up to suit their needs anyway.

Looking at poverty on a horizontal scale, rather than vertical gives me perspective. I’m not at the bottom of any hierarchy. I’m not to the left of any curve. I’m here, with my folks livin, lovin, and strugglin as was meant to be. Your place is of no concern to me, I’m an American to the point I’m free and peaceful till someone or something challenges that, all that other shit is just fodder to keep lesser men feeling good about their insecurities.

Government owns society. Is culture an escape from society? Ask yourself that question. They try to promote that multicultural shit so they could get ahead of us being left alone. They hand out a few dollars and state cheese trying to make you feel like you’re in debt, bitch your economy would fall if you weren’t handing out something.

The bureaucracy surrounding public assistance reaches out deep into every sector of our economy. You got these haters out there talking about drug testing or community service. Go ahead and take your vouchers and milk then see how far your class warfare will get you. You’ll see millions more in them freebee lines, cause most of them folks handing that shit out lost that connection between their hands and their heads long ago, if they ever had it.

It’s our poverty that reveals your greed. You dig up our huts to reveal past truths about a culture you ain’t part of to demonstrate your status as wealthy. There ain’t no connection bitch. You don’t know what cold feels like when there’s no heat to be found or hunger when the next meal has to be found.

Poverty is a concept you made up to make the common man believe he was somewhat less, but you marvel at our ingenuity in museums and history books. You dig deep into archives with dollars and delusional dignity trying to find a connection to a struggle you were never part of.

Well I’m back where I belong from that middle class myth of the “American Dream”; I’m awake now to the lies and deceit. Down here folks don’t live off another mans work and no man lives off theirs. If someone lends you a hand you shake it and smile and that’s all you accept when it’s your turn.

This is “The American” they’ll be digging up in 1000 years. This is the man those weak ass wannabes will be going through family lineage to find an attachment to for posterity Just so they can say “I came from the working class.”, bitch you came from ignorance and wouldn’t have lasted a day with my folks.

Everyone wants better for their children or the next generation. What is better? Is it finding enough comfort to judge others? Is it gathering more things to keep boredom at bay? Is it having enough money to buy your way through some perceived tough time? For me it’s demonstrating that dignity isn’t tied to the economy and respect doesn’t wear clothes or drive cars, it takes pride in itself regardless of what others believe. Stand on your own two feet, even if someone helps you up because you’re always a human like everyone else.

Inflated Glory

In the confines of obese rooms and bodies they spew out green words like, ” the greater good” to justify their evils. Poor folk know their ain’t no ‘greater good”.

In laboratories and dark barns they created a cash cow. Now our rich folks are lithe while our poor folks are fattened up. “Your health is important”, they say while they count the dollars and blessings from checks with corporate logos adorning the back like coupon packs.

Out in nature surrounded by life and decay they sit in plastic molds eating banquets while discussing hunger and homelessness. “The downtrodden” they sing with beautiful voices collecting blessings and dollars to continue the conversation in another season.

Poverty is the clothe that polishes the middle class brass. They need the fabric of our existence to add to their arsenal of denial that they to are supply in the demand of the wealthy.

We don’t hide in our trash, we recycle it in the hopes there’s a Diamond in the ruff. Life is equal in the end. One mans Ferrari is another mans Corvette, and another’s mans truck, all are aspiring. This is how we stand proud in our position.

So we’ll continue to build calluses and joy in our labors. Thanks to technology you are becoming our spare time. Entertaining the “downtrodden” with your deeds and intent while we sit back with our own economy and enjoy thanksgiving with family and friends without a dollar.

You can continue in your belief that death will be more glamorous or fruitful and we’ll keep watching your heirs squander your inheritance until one day we’re all sitting around once again talking, not about how your wealth served you, but how you served your wealth for a lie. Our time was always here, patiently waiting for your return.