Down in the Hood

 Down in the Hood

 

The ghetto is now called the hood

To Edgar it is a place no good

The train travels on through

On it’s way to the City

From the window an excellent view

None too pretty

Garbage and graffiti he does note

“Unpleasant” his word to quote

 

Edgar is a racist

One of the elite

Law and order I insist

Law and order on the street

Edgar reads the news

It tells of the high murder rate

Let ‘em all sing the blues

His thoughts of vicious hate

In college he learned of Darwin

And the history of the human race

Edgar thinks it’s not a sin

To be of the superior race

 

But Edgar has a secret most grim

Never dared to tell another soul

The sisters really attract him

Almost make him lose control

His pale wife

Is plain, frigid and cold

Far past her prime

Proper and old

But these large ladies how they strut

Tight blue jeans with a bursting but

Large breasted women savagely wild

How his heart beats with thunder

A contradiction unable to be reconciled

Why it is, a mystery of great wonder

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Chaplain Harry’s Regret

 Chaplain Harry’s Regret

Harry Emerson Fosdick as a young man was an officer in the United States Army during World War I. In his capacity as chaplain he would pray with the soldiers who would attack the German machine gun nest. The majority of the soldiers would never return alive. In later life the preacher regretted this part of his past.

 

What I’d done I’d rather not say

We would gather

In the morn to start the day

How could a word to the Creator be ill?

I prayed for blessings to kill

I prayed for blessings to kill!

I prayed for blessings to kill

 

I would look the boys in their eyes

And fill their heads with lies

And say, “Boys do your best”

The machine gun nest they would attack

And most would not come back

 

I now walk the silent ground

Once filled with explosions and horrid sound

White crosses abound

Everywhere to be found

Lined neatly and precise row by row

Oh the secrets they know

 

I too was once young in age

My deeds recorded on eternal page

Yes I too was once the fool

The devil’s tool

 

What is war?

Once this green silent meadow

Was divided by two trenches defining no man’s land

War is Hell and nothing grand

It is humanity’s ugliest blight

And till this day fills me with fright

When I lay on my bed calm, serene and still

Recalling how I prayed for blessings to kill

I prayed for blessings to kill……

POLISHED FRAGMENTS

Poet To The Poor

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Edgar and the Hard Facts of Life

 Edgar and the Hard Facts of Life

 

At the train station

SUN peeping in the SKY

Edgar has a sensation!

To end it all and die

And he don’t know why,

                                      And he don’t know why,

And he don’t know why,

His whole life is a               LIE

But he’s getting bye

And as the TRAIN comes near

There’s great tension and FEAR

That he’ll JUMP ahead

Before the TRAIN

And wind up DEAD

                                FUTILE AND VAIN

 

 

Poor Edgar sold his soul

 

 

For an office with a view

But he’s miserable

Doesn’t even have a clue

His fundamental flaw

He dare not mention

For he is in AWE

MONEY, MONEY, MONEY

MORE, MORE, MORE

He pimps out his mind

Life left him behind

 

 

Of that he is sure

Trains And Whistles Thorns And Thistles

Cathy at the Texaco Station

 Cathy at the Texaco Station

 

Cathy

Pumping gas to truck and car

With a uniform red and a white star

The gas ain’t free

Everyone has to pay

The oil is bought

By wars fought

And Cathy’s uniform all red

Resemble many shot dead

Solders, women, children too

Very sad but very true

 

Somewhere an oil CEO

Is snorting his blow

Trying not to care

But all the while aware

In his wicked soul

As his conscience takes its toll

 

And Cathy

Needs to buy food to sup

So she says happily

Fill her up?

Poet To The Poor

Capitalism

Capitalism

By John Kaniecki

Let's grow the economy

Broadcasts bleach blonde buxom blinking blue eyes

Got plenty of fertilizer

For sure, for sure, for sure

Let's plant another seed

Of blatant greed

Water it

With blood mixed with oil

Mulching

Of collateral damage

Mangled bodies of women and children

Limbs carelessly tossed

Unceremoniously

Into shallow graves

Everything we reap

We'll keep

Never mind trickle down

Miserable misers

Giving a frown to a clown

As bums bum in double time

Hey brother can you spare a dime?

Enter the poetic world of John Kaniecki.....

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