Pipeline Mast

Thu, 06/11/2015 - 16:55 -- Iscarus
Sun don't reach here boy, 
Ain't no shine 'round these parts boy;
Need'a get used to gloom. 
 
Sun won't reach here boy, 
You best forget those dreams;
Those butterfly dreams. 
 
Those city-boy things, 
Grass ain't greener 'round here boy; 
They make mockery...
 
Of pipe dreams over here.
Happily ever after...
Actually turns to, 
 
Half mast to full blown,
Plans rolled up into bottles,
Letters ain't here boy. 
 
Kids here kicked to curb,
Like scurvy ridden pups or...
Kittens spitting foam. 
 
Sun don't reach here boy,
You better get used to moon.
Flashing lights never good. 
 
Don't you mistake those lights for the flag,
They mean anything but freedom,
You better hope they're not taking daddy this time,
 
You better believe they taking someone's daddy.
I hope he doesn't smell like he'll run, 
if pigs smell bacon they eager beavers on the trigger.
 
You get out of here with that hunger boy, 
We only eating on the 1st and 15th, 
Deck leaving us living check to check, 
 
You better check your head, 
You think writing will make it better?
They don't let you grow here.
 
They'll cut you down real quick, 
Didn't you hear Bob?
Before you spread the spore of hope
 
You'll get burned down,  
So quit that poet talk. 
Quit those big city dreams.
 
The only pipe dreams out here,
is the ones your neighbor has if,
the pipe got em' and he's not waking up this time.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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