Poverty Is Not an Accident

Poverty Is Not an Accident
Nelson Mandela

Wednesday, January 21, 2004

Poetry

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I've started a new project. I'm rewriting Shakespeare's sonnets, to reflect my own life.

Ambitious job, huh?

I just wrote the first one.

Shopping

Two dollars ev'ry day have I for feed,
According to food stamps: U.S.D.A.,
Based on my income, rent and bills, I need
No more nutrition in a single day.

Half-spoiled foods, discounted, I will eat.
Pick off the mold; dry, freeze, can, eat real quick.
My diet's bad; nutrition's not complete.
My dinner's what the store knows makes folks sick.

The rice has meal bugs; cheddar cheese has mold.
The vegies brown; at least the meat is green.
I eat what other shoppers find too old,
Too bruised, too stale or otherwise obscene.

The milk's marked down because the date's up now.
I drink a glass and contemplate mad cow.

Check in at Poetry Home from time to time, and see how I'm coming along.

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