I will not eat you
chicken bone poets and personal bile
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
hey mr. reporter man
mr. usc journalism degree
mr. L.A. Times
you’re gonna to do a story
write a piece on the poor
on that fucking old project
where the gangsters
criminals and
poor
homies do
their
nastiness
you want me
the big white man
that everyone fears
to walk you around the
“bricks”
your guide
through hell
walking through ghostly
burned out
buildings
in the glow of wire mess
crime lights
broken glass
and 30 years of
trash
you act like there’s cocaine
dancing in the swirl of your
eyes
you shift
crouch
scan
you remind me of a cockroach
contemplating a run
across the
floor
I start to say something
to educate you a little
about
my home of 20 years
but you know
already
mr. sigma delta chi man
you say a golden catch-phrase
like a secret handshake
“psychology of the poor”
I know I can say nothing to
enlighten you
like Friday’s tribe
with Cursoe
the evil is deep and you can’t
see
past your civilization
so I keep quiet and let you
fill in the silence with the learned
observations and speculations that dribble from
your lips like
baby shit
I feel like a native
waiting for the shiny
beads
no you
dumb fuck
it’s the sociology of the
poor
it’s us
not I
and I would leave you
alone
to move about our little
jungle
but you threaten us
and our children
who will always see themselves
through
your eyes
like Friday
I want to kill you
but I will not eat
you
I have no desire to die
from your poisoned
flesh
J. Masuda © 2004
mr. usc journalism degree
mr. L.A. Times
you’re gonna to do a story
write a piece on the poor
on that fucking old project
where the gangsters
criminals and
poor
homies do
their
nastiness
you want me
the big white man
that everyone fears
to walk you around the
“bricks”
your guide
through hell
walking through ghostly
burned out
buildings
in the glow of wire mess
crime lights
broken glass
and 30 years of
trash
you act like there’s cocaine
dancing in the swirl of your
eyes
you shift
crouch
scan
you remind me of a cockroach
contemplating a run
across the
floor
I start to say something
to educate you a little
about
my home of 20 years
but you know
already
mr. sigma delta chi man
you say a golden catch-phrase
like a secret handshake
“psychology of the poor”
I know I can say nothing to
enlighten you
like Friday’s tribe
with Cursoe
the evil is deep and you can’t
see
past your civilization
so I keep quiet and let you
fill in the silence with the learned
observations and speculations that dribble from
your lips like
baby shit
I feel like a native
waiting for the shiny
beads
no you
dumb fuck
it’s the sociology of the
poor
it’s us
not I
and I would leave you
alone
to move about our little
jungle
but you threaten us
and our children
who will always see themselves
through
your eyes
like Friday
I want to kill you
but I will not eat
you
I have no desire to die
from your poisoned
flesh
J. Masuda © 2004