Take me
to a place..
where there is love
from the belly of the jungle..
I'm standing on
a street with
no life or agenda,my legs are weak..
my arms
are bent over..barely
holding on..don't know
when the last I had
a donut..or a cup
of java
or a hot shower to
release the sweat from
several weeks of body odor..
but..I was
once a dignified
human workforce..
paying me..
the cost to live by..
what I become..
corporate latters I CLIMBED...
though
I am your broken expense..
what accounts me..
financial gain..
through days & nights jammin..
self-owned..
a high price brotha..Daisy's grandson..
who fell off..labels me..
Poverty Level..
where I'm
the crust of bread..
soup kitchens..
no bath water to wash
my hands to eat..
YES..
my name is hard times after the
facts read..
unemployment..
an
entreprenuer looses
his power..from an
empire called called Mr.B..
CEO..
Yeah..thats who I am..
Piano reinissance..
JAZZ
vertuoso..filled shoes..
others...than
my own...now..I remain..
homelessly
silent..
my feet are in pain..
without a dime..can u
help how
life
lives in me..
empty handouts..
no pocket change..no bed rest
just..a street
called
"dreams in color"
all..
whom it affects
the
homeless
left for
trash..
all
wrapped up
as
yesterdays blues..
today's news...
a problem
in need..
OURS..WHAT
YA
GONNA
DO...PEOPLE..
I
support
the
cause..
wholeheartedly
CREATE.
Sheila T Jordan
