Poems
by Gary
Beck
Wage Slave
It just doesn’t matter
how hard I work.
The more hours I put in
the more money I take home.
But the cost of living goes up.
Prices rise for everything,
yet however more I make
it goes for something
that we can’t do without.
I won’t get a pension.
I don’t have investments.
I don’t have any savings.
I’ll have to keep working
until it’s time to retire,
but I won’t get very much
from Social Security,
so we’ll have to move
to a cheaper apartment,
hope there’ll be enough to eat,
pray that none of us get sick,
because we can’t cut back more
and we’re at the end of our rope.
Mother
They brought us a long way
from Honduras to Mexico,
across the river
to the U.S.A.,
then through the desert
followed by the long ride
to Brooklyn, America.
We lost Alejandro
when we crossed the desert,
but the girls were safe
in the hot truck,
even though the men
kept looking at them
wanting you know what,
but we got there.
They got me a job
sewing in a factory,
where I work long hours
and they take some of my pay.
But we have an apartment,
food on the table
and the girls go to school.
I worry all the time
that the gang boys
always want the girls
to do you know what,
give them presents, drugs,
but they’re good girls
and say ‘no’,
not like back home
where they have to say ‘yes’.
If we are lucky
the girls will finish high school,
maybe go to college,
somehow become citizens,
have a better life
than their Mama.
Assisted Living
Winter is coming soon.
My room is always cold.
A lot of the time
I spend the day in bed.
The staff love that.
all they have to do
is empty my urinal.
Yeah. It’s not a fun job,
but it only takes a minute
and they don’t do anything else.
I can still transfer to my wheelchair
and eat my meals
in the cafeteria.
The food’s not too good
but it keeps me alive
for a while longer,
as long as I want
to keep living this way.
Dealer
I been dealin
since I was 12.
I was a runner
for the gang
since I was 8.
They upped me to a corner
cause I did my job
and didn’t let no one
fuck with my shit.
I carry a gun
so no one mess with me.
An eye warn me
if cops come.
The counselor fool
tell me stay in school,
but I laugh at him.
I don’t need that shit.
The gang takes care of me.
I got a cool jacket,
brand new sneakers,
all the girls I want
do me for a little taste
of what I got.
Things gonna get better.
That’s what Big L tell me.
He look out for me.
The counselor fool
tell me I be dead
before I 21.
That’s forever from now.
Every day be cool.
I gets what I want.
What I care if I die
a lotta years from now.
Everything good today.
Aftercare
I lie on my stretcher
in a pool of urine
and no one helps me.
When the staff came in
to change my bed
they put me on the stretcher
and left. They didn’t come back.
I’ve been here for hours
and tried not to pee
as long as I could,
but I couldn’t help it.
I stink. Everything hurts.
And it’s not the first time.
All of us here are poor.
We get Medicaid
so the nursing home gets paid,
but they treat us like trash
and nobody else cares.
I’ll stand it for a while
and hope it gets better
until it’s too painful
and not worth living.
