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Homeless Poem. At a loss for the title.
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Homeless Poem. At a loss for the title.
As I'm walking on,
the homeless man approaches,
his twisted toothless smile
only serves to sadden me.
He speaks his senseless madness,
hoping I find it wise.
He speaks of Manson and the past he lived,
grin increasing with tears that never fall.
His nose is lined with breaks,
no different with his face.
His white balding hair lays down to his black beard,
and with the way he coughs, I know he hasn't long.
But his eyes, they're still fierce!
Those blue orbs burn with hatred, madness and with hope,
I want to pull this man up from his knees,
yet I'd kill him if he touched the children that we pass.
We both know he's beaten,
I know he prays for death,
as we ignore the groups ignoring us,
I wonder when his spirit really died.
Was it when Uncle Sam clasped him on the back,
warmth in one hand, dagger right behind,
hugged him, stabbed him, bled him dry,
then left the mess for us to clean?
Was it when his mother had him,
Gabriel lookin' on?
Was it the Good Lord's bad decissions
that led this dead man to his Doom?
I have nothing but pity,
the fear's just a trick that my mind plays.
How could I fear his haggard broken man,
when he only scares himself?
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Interesting Mr. Moster. Our world is full of understanding as well as misunderstandings to match even that of other worlds. Let us look on togather...... Nice write!
I like this poem it is really nice and it makes me think about my feelings towards the homeless...this poem hits me very deeply and I appreciate you writing a piece about this...
Biography: I love living in the country. I get many inspirations there. I'm a 53 years old. Happily married, 19 years. Published poet. and I am Wiccan.
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Monster:
We all at times wonder what goes on in the mind of a homeless man/woman. each one with their own thoughts. All hungry for homes, family, money.
I too was once homeless. It is a devisting experience for anyone doing without.
Some homeless ones choose that kind life. and are very scary people.
Yet most of them are homeless because they are in desprate need of something they can't seem to find.
Fortunately I found my way out of the pits of hell and broke free from the empty arms of nothingness.
I pray for the lonely ones.
May they oneday be loved again.
Biography: I love living in the country. I get many inspirations there. I'm a 53 years old. Happily married, 19 years. Published poet. and I am Wiccan.
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