POVERTY'S CIRCLE.

Aye, smile is the greatest,
but what can be achieve in it?...
The rust in my tears is translated in pain
With me writing the other phase of my life
in truth,
But against the center
of what holds my other lives together,
& this dark shadows join hands to expose my ribbed bones...

I think it's five to ten or hundreds of years in poverty.
I became exiled from hunger
As tears filled my belly;
When I count the tears plying my eyes in odd - 1,3,5,7,...
I think it reaches a billion tears
Bringing the desert to flee in me.

See this as horror;
Last week I lost one of my lives.
But, I don't think it died of poverty,
Of course not.
This is not a poem to please you,
but to feel starved like me -
Like those lives before my arrival.

The attitude of humans
Squeeze from the nature of the waterless eyes - tearless water,
Where our hopes live like an homeless beggar;
A path of hopelessness en route on my veins.

These days poverty does not kill us,
we're immune to it.
It's the hope of glancing at food that kills.
Poverty is just a name to us,
Germinating from father to children,
Children to grand children,
In & out, on we go
Singing the anthem.

©Karn Jeremy Karn
Jay_writes