Beneath Our Windows..
22 November, 2004
Author: Ben Franklin
No bedtime story before
I lay my head,
I hear police sirens instead,
Drugs being sold beneath my window,
talking in code
I cant understand their lingo,
drunks falling over with every step,
not knowing where their imagination and creativity
is kept,
all this seen behind a pane of glass,
lets go outside,
make a change
and get some questions asked.
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Comments on this poem/writing:
| Dino (198.81.26.42) -- Monday, November 22 2004, 12:08 am I've seen this working in the cities. Even a stepson that has gone through this. Got saved by his uncle who had enough money to put him in a rehab. Some can be saved. I wrote a poem "Billy the bum" and how I couldn't believe someone's daughter was joining them? You should move to a safer place. "Country living free and easy" a song I wrote. Thanks Ben for sharing all your nice poems with us. |
| Ben F (81.100.175.39) -- Monday, November 22 2004, 12:12 am hi there,I do live in a kinda nice place,just about what ive seen in othere places. glad ya liked it take care Ben |
| Ben f (81.100.175.39) -- Monday, November 22 2004, 11:59 am I dont think moving away solves the problem,It means your just leaving it to someone else, country living would sure be fine though!!! |
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