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Showing posts from November, 2011

We Who Have Sold Out, by Bruce Embree

          We who have sold out are working on dreams of sheetrock and vasoline Don't tell us we are shallow We were denied your lonesome road and guitar music cursed with our own choices which were to go to work           Your smoky nights and poverty they all at least pretended to care when you took a notion to go out and lose your mind We put on our nigger jokes and coveralls laughed as we hated everything, ourselves especially and had no tears           The pretty words, carved rocks and canvas you decorated? We buy tigers or big eyed kids on black velvet           Our curses are not for your freedom or songs of protest They are for the dues we paid They are for turning around one morning and finding we were nobody           Yes we are working on dreams We who have sold out.