Enter Home Planet News Poetry of Issue #5                        Page 39
Table of

Gentrification Blues

The highest concentration of wealth
Resides on the Upper East Side
From Yorkville to Sutton Place
There lies New York’s pride

There are more millionaires in California
They’re spread out all over the state
Manhattan is now dubbed Millionaires Island
The rest of the city will follow that fate

There used to be a time
When we made room for the marginalized

Down on the Bowery, they’re building condos
What’s a working man to do?
He has no choice, he has to move
But where to?

In the nineteen seventies
The rotting Big Apple
Was smothered in existential angst
Symbolizing the height of urban and moral decay

My kind of town
Those were the days

  Drew Marshall __

No Experience Needed (For Henry Miller and Charles Bukowski)

Most classified ads today say no experience necessary
Employers would rather pay kids’ fresh from school the lowest salary
Than pay the experienced person what they are worth in today’s economy

Who are these kids who hire and supervise me?
A baby boomer, victimized by age discrimination
We, who worshipped at the altar of youth
With the help of Madison Avenue

We quickly disregarded all the old
All we needed were our guitar hero’s
Our parent’s views were rejected all too quickly
They weren’t wrong about everything
Most things, like Viet Nam, but not everything

What did we know?
We didn’t live through the depression and World War II
The post war world had irrevocable changed for the worse
We couldn’t possible see things through the eyes of our parent’s universe

It was a brave, young world
A brand new day with blue skies protecting our way
Then decades flew by
We had to wonder why
We weren’t young anymore

We grew up at a rapid pace
Many went on to great success
Many screwed up
Their lives were a tragic mess

What is the meaning of success?
If we don’t reward and honor experience
Out with the old
In with the new
Except in regard to people
That old saying is true

  Drew Marshall__


I came across a photograph
From happier times
Unlike me
It was not

May some great controller
Of the universe
Archive this photographic memory
And send me back there
In the afterlife

Or, what’s a heaven for?

What’s a heaven for?

  Drew Marshall__

©Aldo Vigliarolo: Dark Visionary