Chicken Bones

Stop! Let me off this bus of shame
I see the bridges broken,
Houses cracking,
Chicken boned children, starving.

Rib meat torn from their sides, trying to survive.
Lesser children of the garbage;
Unnoticed, unwanted,
Unloved, uneducated and unspeakable.

Bus ads want me to buy suntan lotion.
Drink tequila on sunny beaches and
enjoy my lucky heritage.
.
I sink uncomfortably into the seat of electro-introspection,
Thinking of oily bank accounts and Saudi harems,
I try in vain to re-write a poem.

Soon, we stopped for coffee in the city of critics.
I hoped to get a brain transfusion
Or maybe some new delusions, (grand or false)
The bathrooms were short on toilet paper
So I left them one of my manuscripts,
They seem to like my crap.

Then someone ask if I was famous.
“Yes”, I said,” I’m famous for not being known”






I adjusted my leg irons and re-boarded the bus,
Reported my SS number into the mic.

“When does this tour end?” I ask.
“There is no end” said the red faced driver.
I was perplexed.

I continued looking at the broken down towns,
Gagging in the smelly urinals
And forcing down “famous” cow burgers and oily fries.

Peering out, I
saw an unshaven soldier with one leg
drinking wine in an alley;
the chicken boned children
offering him a crusty piece of bread.

Uncomfortably a tear rolled from my eye
As I dozed, I thought about this species called human;
We kill;
We hate,
We fight and injure,
Lie, cheat and steal
And then hypocritically judge others.
I awoke to someone shaking me.
“Hurry, we’ll be late to church!”


Richard lynn livesay 2008