Paupers of Paradise

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written November, 2010

My soul was bleached by the pacific sun

purified and refreshed by the rainbow framed midday mist

until it drew my eyes to the pot of gold

that remains just out of the reach of so many

brothers and sisters I find here.

From this furnished crowsnest

god speckles his tears blurring my eyes

so I descend to the depths

where Mother Ocean tries to soothe her children to sleep

in tent covered Ala Moana  

with wave on wave a peaceful melody

but the sun proves too strong

and as day fades fallen daughters hide beneath red lights

peddling souls for less than gold

sharing a habit with frozen men

who can’t find nine to five

hiding in plain sight uttering ‘mahalo’

to passersby for sparing change

that will offer a momentary escape

steps from somewhere over the rainbows

no pot of gold

 

 

About soitgoes1984

I was born and raised on land stolen from the Pocumtuc. I now live on a small island in the middle of the Pacific ocean, on land that was stolen more recently, from the Hawaiians. I am addict, struggling to kick the habit of fossil fuel.
This entry was posted in american dream, hawaii, Poetry, poverty, Uncategorized, veterans and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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