Inner City Loving

Home of the used and the duped;

victims of fear and charity;

people moving no where

except from kitchen to handout

through the largess of the caring-in-flight

the "them" standing 'gainst the "them"

to help "them" stay in the house once fled

groaned o'er as a dead mem'ry of love.

I hate the Inner City loving.

I loathe the cages of the strong

their "treat-them-with-dignity" smiling

and gifts set as cheese on a trap.

Who sees a face without tax breaks?

Who sniffs the balm of the well-wiped ass?

Who knows eyes from the side looking at you?

Inner-city scapegoats are coaxed to the slaughter

and die waiting for the system to free them again.

Their hues betray them, binds them this side of right

ever expanding where ones shade rattles the town.

I hate the Inner City loving.

I loathe the cages of the strong.