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The Rise Of White-Trash Hope
by Jersey D GibsonDirty fields and broken cars,
weed gardens and cement blocks.
Restless people in a restless town,
counting the days with cigarettes.
Dirty ground and broken lives,
the change of getting out is single-wide.
Hopeless people in a hopeless town,
measuring the days by arrests.
Dirty home and broken wheels,
useless junk and prized possessions.
Helpless people in a helpless town,
as far as the trailer park goes.
Dirty children and broken toys,
dirt road and gravel, too.
Futureless people in a futureless town,
every day is the same damn day.
Escape,
seems so hard.
Freedom,
from this town.
Moving on,
while held down.
Can I leave this town at all?
07/07/2005 Author's Note: A trailer-park near where I lived called "Last Hope".
Posted on 07/07/2005
Copyright © 2024 Jersey D Gibson
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Ashok Sharda on 07/07/05 at 02:37 PM yes, the external does effect us within.The impression drawn from without brings the necessary change in our moods. |
| Posted by Anita Mac on 07/08/05 at 03:43 AM Now there's a name for a trailer-park... This is really well written, incredibly descriptive... it could've been untitled and anyone would get the picture. Excellent stuff. |
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