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Wall Street, My Street

Fri, 2006-09-15 15:07 — billyjones

I first wrote this poem in 2003 and posted it to my blog, BloggingPoet.com but considering the current economic state of my neighborhood I thought it would bear repeating. Thank you. -Billy Jones

Dreams strewn ‘cross the sidewalk
piled high for the truck to come
to pick them up, haul them off:
a family, hopes undone.
Again, we wander lonely
a life of hell begun.
A chance, we wanted only.
Could nothing have been done?

Clear Channel’s playing music
but they’ll not play this song.
Clear Channel banks on Wall Street
while my street struggles on.
And Sony’s selling records,
cheat the artists out their say
while the people watch reality TV.
so writers don’t get paid.

On Wall Street they’re a crying
we need to make some more.
On my street, bankers throw us out,
put padlocks on our doors.
On Wall Street they’re a crying
but it was them who made this mess.
On my street we will pay the cost
while Wall Street steals the rest.

In DC. they’re still plotting
how to give it all away
to the people who are making plans
to steal it anyway.
And on Wall Street they’re a planning
how to keep the people down
while on my street we’re a moving out
and sleeping on the ground.

On Wall Street they’re a crying,
"We need to make some more."
On my street, bankers throw us out,
put padlocks on our doors.
On Wall Street they’re a crying
but it was them who made this mess.
On my street we will pay the cost
while Wall Street steals the rest.

On Wall Street they’re a crying
but it was them who made this mess.

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