Foraging
by Rob Roper Sept 4, 2018
The caveman
woke each morning
and set out
foraging for food.
So I
wake each morning
and tap plastic buttons
sending words through the air
and through wires
in return for food.
Nothing’s changed.
Foraging
by Rob Roper Sept 4, 2018
The caveman
woke each morning
and set out
foraging for food.
So I
wake each morning
and tap plastic buttons
sending words through the air
and through wires
in return for food.
Nothing’s changed.
Powerless (poem)
by Rob Roper 1st Draft May 25, 2017
It’s a kangeroo court
Those in authority can lie
They can invent evidence
They can falsely accuse me of things
They can say I said this or that
What they say
is gospel truth
Whatever I say
is disregarded
Their lies are accepted
my truth is rejected
They can
convict me of crimes I didn’t commit
They can
take my money
They can even beat me
and they’ll get away it
they’ll win
They always win
Those in authority have always abused me
It’s happened over and over
all my life
And there’s nothing I can do about it
nothing I can do.
People say, “Yes there is!
You can unite with others
against the people in authority!”
But they never unite.
Nobody ever backs me up.
They leave me standing all alone
to fight the powerful
It’s a losing battle
For I am powerless
I am in the class of losers, the rejects
And you wonder
why I have no confidence
you wonder
why I have no hope
It’s the result of experience
lessons learned the hard way
This is what I’ve learned:
Superior force always wins
Justice always loses
I have no power
They always win
I always lose
always lose
always lose
always lose.
My People (poem)
by Rob Roper 1st Draft May 26, 2017
I have no use for the winners
The frat boys
now yuppies
with their careers
and families
Taking the baby out for a stroll
with their expensive pure-bred dog
(probably ordered him online)
and their boring mainstream clothes
mainstream haircuts
mainstream facial hair
according to the current fad
staring at their mainstream stupidphones
their boys and girls on bicycles with
training wheels
but wearing helmets anyway
living in their big yuppy triplexes with
3 living rooms
5 bedrooms
and 4 baths
where a small house from the 1950’s once stood
generic boring
shrubs and grass planted by
Mexicans
hired by
the developer landscape company
not a single flower to be seen anywhere
all neat and orderly
like their haircuts.
I have no use for these people.
They bore me.
Give me the losers
the misfits
the rejects
rejects
not because society rejected them
but because they rejected society.
Those who
worked odd jobs all their lives
and never had a career
because all careers seemed boring to them.
Those who never made it
due to lack of enthusiasm for “it”
Bring me the failures
those who have been searching all their lives
but never found it
The wannabe poets, artists and musicians
Well-read
with and a sick and twisted sense of humor
and a healthy dose of cyncism
who know that American politics is corrupt
and whose taste in music
is a rejection
of the mainstream
and an embrace of the subversive
These are my people.
People like me.