who we are, what we want

We are the plebs Bukowski spoke of ...

Leaving a life where we were loved...

To live in a country that acts like we are nothing...

Raised against the machine...

Hoping and praying for peace in it's shadow...

Smiles on our faces trying to make it to tomorrow...

There's pride in our smiles and hearts...

We are chased from our communities...

The homes we built in communities we serve...

Humility forced just to eat and not offend...

Cleaning ourselves and those who feel entitled...

Seeking our peace and our part of the dream everyone wants...

a letter to myseld in the next act

More passing chapters...

Grey hair blending in more than peaking through...

The dedication to this form...

It's been nothing but a fantasy...

No one wants to hear...

Trying to be serious for life...

But being another joke...

Hungry and dieing to be more...

Eating is the only goal left...

Only staying in line with a smile...

Is her, my spark, my safe warm place...