EPITAPH
No longer to eat this bread of Earth,
Will I taste a richer bread,
Will I sit again at someone's board
Or will stones remain my bed?
So traveler, pass on --
And if your bread is poor,
Be thankful you can curse at it,
And pound on the baker's door!
POVERTY
Poverty is a black kid
bouncing on a box spring
put out for the garbage --
but now a trampoline!
Poverty is looking for coins
under the sofa cushions,
fallen from pockets
to buy bread and milk!
Poverty is ten kids
climbing over a truck
marked "Good Humor" --
buying half of an ice pop!
Poverty is a toothache
and you with no dentist
to relieve the pain,
and you with no mother!
Poverty's a saxophone
you have to conceal
as you run home
from band practice!
Poverty's having no legs
and you on a roller
plunking the banjo,
while begging for money!
Poverty's never putting
your rippling muscles
to useful endeavor,
but only to harming!
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