Grey and white feathered bird
You lie there dead
for all to see
in the sunlit morningMost people pass you by
for you are a dead bird
grey and white
your feathers in the sunThe Negroes pass
The West Indians
The poor Irish going to Portobello MarketThe green stocking girl
who sells her wares on the corner
bananas and dates and oranges
they are selling in the marketI bend down
on my knees
in the sunlit morning
and kiss your wing
grey and white
gleaming in the sunNo more
shall you aspire
air and cloud and skyNo more
The noises of the rabble
to wet your thirstNo more
on this earth
poor bird
shall the light
blind you to darknessNo more
poor
bird
No more
Poet of the streets
about Jack Micheline
"If I liberate myself I liberate mankind, I seek Brotherhood, love, kindness and worship the light and the sun. Now is the time for the emergence of new voices. The poor white voices not heard from, hidden in the dark corners of America. The voices crushed on the skid rows, and beaten on the bottom of cities." -- Jack Micheline
Ragged Lion
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