YOUR WORDS YOU EXPECT

If my words were worth the breath...
Would a shiny dime...
Cast a light...
that could fill a stomach...
Even if it was  dark...
What is the worth of some true filth...
That oddly says a truth that rattles beyond one day...
Could that be worth more than a bellys worth...
Forty hours worth gives some faith in those remains given

The real man

I am the real man...
I am not the thin pale aristocrat...
I am the pleb, that cut my hands to eat...
My sweat, my station...
Only give blood to what I say...
I am the real man...
I fought though another day of work...
Of traffic,  of anger, of sickness...
Because to those hungry looking poets...
I work even with these words in my heart...
I have to be the beast, with the mind of a man, and a heart of the poet...
My medicine,  my faith is the real man with grit...
I am the real man...