Donations are essential to keep Write Out Loud going    

Consumed

I remember in poverty,
eating ramen noodles,
daily.

Beans and Weenies.
Meatless sauce
spaghetti.

Rice, Rice, Rice,
without any real
spice.

Bologna Sandwiches.
Hamburger Helper
mixes.

Fried Spam,
and all kinds of meat,
canned.

Hot Dogs on a stick,
burnt to a
crisp.

Catfish from the creek,
yellow belly
meat.

Milwaukee’s Best.
Another broken
promise.

The cheapest smokes.
Always gotta have
those.

Colon cancer, Rectal cancer,
lungs and
brain.

A hole too deep,
at least six
feet.

Same old hole,
no matter where you
grow.

PovertyTruthLifeDeathDisease

◄ It Fits

Smitten (A Sonnet) ►

Comments

No comments posted yet.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message