K.J. Jackson

K.J. Jackson Poems

Up a six, home at five,
Ridin the grind, just to stay alive,
Beat my guts out, still get no respect,
The 1%, need a reality check,
...

When I begin worry, and ask how will we pay the bills? ,
You just look at me, and then I see, that Somehow, Someway we will,
When things don’t go as planned, and I wonder will it be okay? ,
I hear your gentle voice speak Somehow, Someway, Someday,
...

It started off as a sparkle, exciting and new,
As most things, you know, they usually do,
But as time passed, I began to see through,
What it really was, to be the true you,
...

I miss my children, I miss my wife,
I miss my simple Island way of life,
I miss my home, the cool sea breeze,
I miss the ocean against my knees,
...

5.

At one time, I had it all,
In my palms, it seemed to fall,
I took for granted and now it’s gone,
Like a sparrow, with a melodic song,
...

I regret to inform you, that on this day,
Your daughter, your son, has gone away,
I rapt at your door, heavy-hearted dismay,
That your daughter, your son, on foreign soil they lay,
...

I Love You, but not in Love with you,
What a concept,
As I lay in our bed alone, while you slept,
And quietly tears shed, as I wept,
...

Cast off the main lines, we set sail today,
The seas are calm, as we plot our way,
On the ship called ' Our Future'; built so sound,
That when the waves envelope, we only bound,
...

What can I do?
Now your love, isn't true,
You love him, but I loved you,
This life we have forged,
...

The Best Poem Of K.J. Jackson

Working Man

Up a six, home at five,
Ridin the grind, just to stay alive,
Beat my guts out, still get no respect,
The 1%, need a reality check,

Because why?

A working man, is what I am,
Gotta stick to the plan, a working man is what I am,

My hands are blistered and my body it aches,
Six days a week, is what it takes,
No rest for the wicked, is our claim to fame,
We built this world, but no one remembers a name,

Because why?

A working man, is what I am,
Melanoma suntan, a working man is what I am,

Silver spoon, which was born in hand,
Not me boy, it's a steel lunch can,
They make a dollar, I make a dime,
They have the control, all I have is time,
(And it's running out!)

Because why?
A working man is what I am,
Goddamn THE MAN, a working man is what I am,

Grovel and grapple, for crumbs at their feet,
No gettin ahead, barely make ends meet,
These are small victories, but in the end defeat,
Provide a life for our offspring, well it's bittersweet,

Because why?

Because a working man, is what I am,
Born enslaved to the damned, a working man is what I aaaammm,

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