Grapes of Wrath - Expository Found Poem

May 26

In this God-forsaken country,

Rich men ride on fortune, class, and speed,

And live by the curious ritualized thievery.

A little bigger, little faster, but never good enough.

Rotting meat, a coffin on wheels,

Sullen, weary, blind drunk, rum-dumb,

Cars from all over the country,

All headin’ west.

Straining against a hell of a nuisance,

Searching for great things, great times.

Never seen such a mess,

Near to outbreak.

This God-forsaken country,

Hungry for security.

Does not work out,

Does not see a chance.

Going to California really to go home again.

But in this God-forsaken country,

Men have not forsaken men.

“We’re hungry,” the man said.

Give ’em bread, give ’em the loaf,

Treat ’em right with all their might,

And everything will be alright.

Life whizzed by on the highway一

Doesn’t matter where they all come from,

Doesn’t matter where they all go.

Just live with wonder, craving, desire, hope.

Takes just a little humility to be noble.

A Winter Dream