The Unseen, by Michael Peck

yes we all scream at night
hope for sweeter dreams
something so free
as our American dream
not the dark depression
of economic fear
fear of losing everything
fear of having nothing left to lose
I listen late into the night
to the raw sweet black skin blues
they knew the whip
when it was made of leather
now societies whip
is not a thing
but hollowness and emptiness
drowned in cheap beer
failure wraps around my throat
Anaconda strong
choking me so joyously
not caring whether right or wrong
the oily streets
bite at my feet
and won’t suffer us sleeping there
we might scare the visitors
the tourists from we where we sit and stare
our sin is always been the same
that we did not belong
our clothes are not so neat and clean
so we look like some dirty dog
you tell to move along
oh yes we live in the land of the free
we will live just as long
as the rest of society
has food to throw away
we can pluck it
from the smelly garbage can
and eat until
we waste away

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One thought on “The Unseen, by Michael Peck

  1. Michael, The homeless are unseen and it’s done on purpose. Your poem is a chilling wake up call to see! Thank you for your poem. Ingrid

    Liked by 1 person

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