Free Booze at an Open Bar.

There is no voice of the poor.

The one’s that speak,

speak in hotel ballrooms,

press conferences with wealth and 

clear-colored awards.

And free booze at an open bar.

The poor are still poor.

The priceless without worth.

The worthless without price.

The moment treasured and spun

like a silk web.

Those who do not seek wealth

are blamed.

Those who do not seek health

are demonized.

Those who seek strong drink

are sent to jails.

Those who seek strong powders

are sent to prisons.

The escape once freeing

has lead to bars. Black bars

hiding black lives. Hiding

white lives.

Brown, yellow, and red lives.

Poor lives.

And the streets bleed.

And are stained by that blood.

Forever. To be remembered by many,

to be eulogized by few.

We has never included the poor.

Few escape the crowded pavement,

the dark bars, where suicide seems

sane, but never is.

Because.