Careful With That Axe, Eugene

Tags

Buddhism, Christianity, compassion, despair, desperation, emotion, empathy, loving kindness, mental health, music, mystery

 

Eugene had a mind of his own,
not, as some would say, a sound mind,
but his own mind, nevertheless.

“It’s awfully considerate of you
to think of me here.
And I’m most obliged to you
for making it clear
that I’m not here.”

Eugene was a great musician,
taking music to the limit;
his songs will always survive.
Eugene took drugs to the limit;
he’s now in Interstellar Overdrive.

When we observed him with an axe,
you may understand our concern.
Was he in danger, or were we?

Eugene had already left us in spirit,
but he wandered away that day
and was lost to us forever.

~~~

 

This poem is dedicated to the memory of “Syd Barrett (born Roger Keith Barrett; 6 January 1946 – 7 July 2006) who was an English singer, songwriter, guitarist and artist. He is most remembered as a founding member of  band Pink Floyd, providing major musical and stylistic direction in their early work, although he left the group in 1968 amidst speculations of mental illness exacerbated by heavy drug use.”

Axe is also British slang for guitar. Pink Floyd’s use of the title Careful With That Axe, Eugene may refer to “Barrett’s behavior (which) became increasingly unpredictable, partly as a consequence of frequent experimentation with psychedelic drugs such as LSD. Many report having seen him on stage with the group, strumming on one chord through the entire concert, or not playing at all. At a show at The Fillmore West in San Francisco, during a performance of “Interstellar Overdrive”, Barrett slowly detuned his guitar. The audience seemed to enjoy such antics, unaware of the rest of the band’s consternation.” (Source: Wikipedia)

~~~

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The Silver Fox

Tags

alcoholism, Buddhism, Christianity, compassion, despair, desperation, emotion, fear, homeless, loneliness, longing

 

Slouching
in forgotten tap-rooms
dirty old men,
forgotten old men,
slop piss-colored beer
from, wet, dripping glasses.
The hollow din,
the retelling of “the good old days”,
echoes sadly
as life quickly passes.

“They used to call me ‘The Silver Fox’
What do you think of that?
They used to care.”

An empty glass crashes
to the muddy floor.

“I guess I’ll be hitting the street tonight.
Sleep in an alley tonight.
Nobody cares.”

Slouching
in forgotten tap-rooms
dirty old men,
forgotten old men,
slop piss-colored beer.
Nobody cares….

 

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…

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whisper and moan

Tags

alcoholism, compassion, death, despair, desperation, emotion, empathy, eternal, loneliness, longing, lost love

 

troubled blues with feeling
may ease my tortured mind;
free me from the clutches
of those I left behind.

these dirty hobo rags
hang on a wasted frame,
haunted by the memory
and rhythm of your name.

walking through this alley
shrouded, dark with death.
evil deeds will haunt me,
until my final breath.

craving me some whisky,
a friendly word and smile.
you can spend my money,
just stay a little while.

booze, it clouds my thinking.
your face is just a blur……
few more drinks together
i may think you are her.

guitar strings, whining steel,
a whisper and a moan.
use me and abuse me;
don’t leave me here alone.

…

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frost

Tags

abandonment, despair, desperation, emotion, emptiness, eternal, fear, forever, loneliness, longing, lost love

 

a dove sits on a snowy bough,
her song cuts through my heart.
we both know how the lonely feels
when love is torn apart.

there never was an emptiness
the way I feel inside.
the ache is deep within my chest,
i have no place to hide.

was once a time my heart was full
when spring was in the air,
but Frost has draped me with her cloak,
my tears fall in despair.

the midnight train is leaving soon.
my bags are packed to go.
i shiver on the platform bare,
a spectre, slinking low.

…

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Mourning Dove

Tags

compassion, death, despair, desperation, destiny, empathy, longing, love, nature, personal, romance

The silence of
the mourning dove,
more mournful
than her song.

She’s lost her mate,
her will to live,
yet time
still passes on.

Of days gone by,
she dreams her dreams,
when last she
heard him sing.

In widow’s weeds,
by empty nest,
a lonely dove
has lost her song.

…

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The Silver Fox

Tags

Buddhism, Christianity, compassion, despair, desperation, homeless, kindness, longing, philosophy, psychology, unconditional love

   

   
slouching
in forgotten tap-rooms
dirty old men,
forgotten old men,
slop piss colored beer
from, wet, dripping glasses.
the hollow din,
the retelling of the good old days,
echoes sadly
as life quickly passes.

“They used to call me ‘The Silver Fox’
What do you think of that?
They used to care.”

an empty glass crashes
to the muddy floor.

“I guess I’ll be hitting the street tonight.
Sleep in an alley tonight.
Nobody cares.”

slouching
in forgotten tap-rooms
dirty old men,
forgotten old men,
slop piss colored beer.
nobody cares…

…

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borderlands

Tags

choice, desperation, destiny, empowerment, fantasy, forever, free, mystery, philosophy, psychology, Sociology

  

  

i live in the borderlands,
between reality and imagination,
just this side of fantasy.

reality is okay.
i visit there
to check my mail,
earn a few dollars,
pay some bills,
buy groceries.

reality is an okay place to visit
but, i wouldn’t want to live there.

i’m happiest in my mind
where I filter my thoughts
like an answering machine.
i delete the negative,
dwell on the positive.

people may see me walking alone.
they don’t see the beautiful woman
at my side
with her hand in mine.

i may be seen sitting at a table, alone.
nobody sees the delicate hand,
with the magic fingers,
sliding up my thigh.

or, the passionate kiss
being planted on my throat,
the fingers running through my hair.

where i work
people see me smile.
they think I enjoy my job.
they don’t know me.

   

…

  
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whisper and moan

Tags

despair, desperation, dreams, emotion, guitar, hobo, homeless, memory, whisky

 

troubled blues with feeling
may ease my tortured mind;
free me from the clutches
of those I left behind.

these dirty hobo rags
hang on a wasted frame,
haunted by the memory
and rhythm of your name.

walking through this alley
shrouded, dark with death.
evil deeds will haunt me,
until my final breath.

craving me some whisky,
a friendly word and smile.
you can spend my money,
just stay a little while.

booze, it clouds my thinking.
your face is just a blur……
few more drinks together
i may think you are her.

guitar strings, whining steel,
a whisper and a moan.
use me and abuse me;
don’t leave me here alone.

 
  

…

 
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Disappeared

Tags

despair, desperation, destiny, dreams, eternal, fantasy, lifetimes, longing, lost love, universe, world

 

 

as the sun
played with the leaves
in the cool afternoon breeze
i heard your giggle
saw your smiling spirit face
peeking from behind
a clump of trees.

disappointed,
because i hadn’t
the freedom to follow you,
i sighed and waited for nightfall.
as the jealous moon
stole through my window
a devil in a flannel gown
visited my bed.

we snuggled
throughout the night.
my mouth nuzzled your neck.
your skin tasted
of our favorite perfume,
wood smoke and cedar.
i murmured words of love
as I held you tight.
you disappeared
with the dawn’s
early light.

 
…

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Careful With That Axe, Eugene

Tags

Buddhism, Christianity, compassion, despair, desperation, emotion, empathy, loving kindness, mental health, music, mystery

 

Eugene had a mind of his own,
not, as some would say, a sound mind,
but his own mind, nevertheless.

“It’s awfully considerate of you
to think of me here.
And I’m most obliged to you
for making it clear
that I’m not here.”

Eugene was a great musician,
taking music to the limit;
his songs will always survive.
Eugene took drugs to the limit;
he’s now in Interstellar Overdrive.

When we observed him with an axe,
you may understand our concern.
Was he in danger, or were we?

Eugene had already left us in spirit,
but he wandered away that day
and was lost to us forever.

 

 

This poem is dedicated to the memory of “Syd Barrett (born Roger Keith Barrett; 6 January 1946 – 7 July 2006) who was an English singer, songwriter, guitarist and artist. He is most remembered as a founding member of  band Pink Floyd, providing major musical and stylistic direction in their early work, although he left the group in 1968 amidst speculations of mental illness exacerbated by heavy drug use.”

Axe is also British slang for guitar. Pink Floyd’s use of the title Careful With That Axe, Eugene may refer to “Barrett’s behaviour (which) became increasingly unpredictable, partly as a consequence of frequent experimentation with psychedelic drugs such as LSD. Many report having seen him on stage with the group, strumming on one chord through the entire concert, or not playing at all. At a show at The Fillmore West in San Francisco, during a performance of “Interstellar Overdrive”, Barrett slowly detuned his guitar. The audience seemed to enjoy such antics, unaware of the rest of the band’s consternation.” (Source: Wikipedia)

 

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Lover Boy

Tags

desperation, emotion, erotica, fear, kindness, loneliness, longing, lust, mystery, Prostitute, romance, sighs

 

 
 
I knocked softly
on her apartment door.
A sexy voice called out
“It’s open. Come on in!”
I entered the dimly lit room,
hazy with cigarette smoke
and incense.
“I would have greeted you in the hallway,
she said, “but, as you can see
I’m not dressed.”

I sat on the edge of her bed,
luxurious with gold
bedspread and pillow covers.
It was not a bed for sleeping.
She lay there languidly
in a black camisole
and black, thigh high,
fish-net stockings.

Between blowing puffs of smoke
she said, “So, what will it be, Lover Boy?
The usual, or do you want me
to add a little spice?
I think you should beg me.
Get down on your knees,
show me how much you want me.

“Did you bring me a gift?
You know how much I love sparkly things.
You did? How nice!
Do you think you deserve a reward?
Come closer, don’t be afraid,
Lay your head back.
I’m going to take away
all your troubles.”

 
 
 

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Betrayal

Tags

Buddhism, Christianity, despair, desperation, emotion, empathy, First Nations, homeless, loving kindness, psychology, Sociology

 

 

I look into your eyes,
grey with tears and sorrow
from the Arctic Ocean.

I feel your hurt deep inside,
hear your thunder,
see your rain.

With your fist at your chest
you open your heart,
tell me of hardship,
betrayal and pain.

I listen
with my heart
as one who has been there.

With my arm around your shoulder,
as a brother,
I urge you, to act with patience
and with love —
to be LOVE.

.

Note: Alphonse took his life, by hanging, 21 October 2015.

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Crystal Ball

Tags

desperation, destiny, emotion, imagination, kindness, lifetimes, longing, nature, personal, unconditional love

 

My life would be so much easier
if I knew what others thought,
what they expected,
what they wanted.

I went in blind,
not knowing the emotional situation
(I’m not telepathic).
I said what I felt,
what I believed.

There was another other
shrouded in mystery.
How was I to know?
I wasn’t allowed to ask.

That would have been an invasion of privacy.
Better, I stumble in the dark,
being told I’ve done nothing wrong
as accusations fly.

I’m lost, but not offended.
I lived a dream,
everything was possible,
a spirit, a whisper
of love
extinguished.

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I’ve Always Wondered

Tags

alone, death, depression, despair, desperation, suicide

 

I’ve always wondered
what my 62 year old grandfather
was thinking
that Friday
at 1:30 in the afternoon,
when he decided to leave his office
in the courthouse,
where he was County Court Clerk,
to drive out of town,
park on a by-road,
walk to a nearby bush,
pull out his handgun
and shoot himself
through the head.

I’ve always wondered……why?

Perhaps,
one day
he’ll tell me.

 

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Whisper and Moan

Tags

compassion, despair, desperation, down and out, dreams, drunk, fear, haze, longing, lonliness, lost love

 

Troubled blues with feeling
may ease my tortured mind;
free me from the clutches
of those I left behind.

These dirty hobo rags
hang on a wasted frame,
haunted by the memory
and rhythm of your name.

Walking through this alley
shrouded, dark with death.
Evil deeds will haunt me,
until my final breath.

Craving me some whisky,
a friendly word and smile.
You can spend my money,
just stay a little while.

Whisky clouds my thinking.
Your face is just a blur……
Few more drinks together
I may think you are her.

Guitar strings, whining steel,
a whisper and a moan.
Use me and abuse me;
don’t leave me here alone.

 
 
 

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The Silver Fox

Tags

alcoholism, Buddhism, Christianity, compassion, despair, desperation, emotion, fear, homeless, loneliness, longing

 

Slouching
in forgotten tap-rooms
dirty old men,
forgotten old men,
slop piss-colored beer
from, wet, dripping glasses.
The hollow din,
the retelling of “the good old days”,
echoes sadly
as life quickly passes.

“They used to call me ‘The Silver Fox’
What do you think of that?
They used to care.”

An empty glass crashes
to the muddy floor.

“I guess I’ll be hitting the street tonight.
Sleep in an alley tonight.
Nobody cares.”

Slouching
in forgotten tap-rooms
dirty old men,
forgotten old men,
slop piss-colored beer.
Nobody cares….

 
 
 

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disappeared

Tags

angel wings, compassion, desolation, desperation, destiny, everlasting, forever, spirit, spiritual, unconditional love, vision

 
 
as the sun
played with the leaves
in the cool afternoon breeze
i heard your giggle
saw your smiling spirit face
peeking from behind
a clump of trees.

disappointed,
because i hadn’t
the freedom to follow you,
i sighed and waited for nightfall.
as the jealous moon
stole through my window
a devil in a flannel gown
visited my bed.

we snuggled
throughout the night.
my mouth nuzzled your neck.
your skin tasted
of our favorite perfume,
wood smoke and cedar.
i murmured words of love
as I held you tight.
you disappeared
with the dawn’s
early light.
 
 
 
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.

 

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i do what i can

Tags

Buddhism, Christianity, compassion, despair, desperation, emotion, empathy, kindness, loving kindness, Psychology. Sociology

 

i’m sitting on the sidewalk
as a woman, huddled in a blanket,
a patterned do-rag on her head,
sobs on my shoulder.
i put my arm around her
and say, “it’s okay.”
knowing that nothing is okay,
it will never be okay.

i’m beyond my depth.
i don’t know what to do,
or what to say…
anything that comes to mind
is shallow and meaningless.
this woman’s experiences
are completely foreign to me.
what do I know —
about alcoholism?
about motorcycle gangs?
about sleeping on the streets?

all i can do is let her cry,
tell her that she has forgiveness,
that what saddens her,
what keeps her awake,
or gives her nightmares,
is all in the past.
it’s time to forgive herself
and love herself
and live
in the present moment.

she can’t go on.
she can’t stand the pain.
she can’t do this any more.
drink is the only thing
that numbs her mind;
enough to endure,
enough to pass out at night
and do it all over again
the next day.

i can only do
and say so much.
it’s always a pleasant surprise
to see her sitting on the sidewalk,
knowing that she’s made it
through another night;
that she hasn’t been taken
by violence, sickness
or the police.

i do what i can.

 
 
 
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.

 

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Street Angel

Tags

Buddhism, Christianity, compassion, despair, desperation, emotion, fear, homeless, kindness, Sociology, unconditional love

 

I met a woman
who lives on the streets.
All her belongings
fit in her backpack.

She has sparkling blue eyes,
a smile that would light heaven itself.
She looked cold.
I asked her how long
she’d been on the streets.
She replied, “I don’t know….too long.”
She is forty-four,
but looks older.

She told me her story.
I won’t repeat it,
but, to give you
some idea,
recall your worst fears,
your worst nightmares
rolled into one.
That’s the way
her story starts,
it only gets worse
from there.

I brought her a sandwich
and a coffee.
She said, “God bless you.”
He did
immediately,
A wave of joy spread
throughout my body
and stayed there
all day long.

I have been blessed
by an Angel.

 
 
 
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.

 

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Take My Hand

Tags

Buddhism, Christianity, compassion, desperation, empathy, homeless, humanity, kindness, loving kindness, psychology, Sociology

 

There you are
an almost stranger.
Who am I to take your hand?
What I give is nearly nothing –
but the heart to hear
and understand.

You tell me
you’ve been beaten,
stabbed with a machete,
made some choices
now regretted.

Sparking
eyes of azure blue
show a spectrum of emotions,
happiness, frustration,
pain and sorrow,
but, always
love.

Arisen
from behind a dumpster,
to living in a clean, safe house,
your life in order,
independent —
a miracle.

Inspiring
to me, and to everyone
fortunate enough to know you.
I would like to introduce you
to a wider audience
so that they too
may take inspiration
and see the miracle
that is your love,
that is you.

Please,
in friendship,
take my hand.

 
 
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Desperation Drive

Tags

compassion, despair, desperation, destiny, dreams, eternal, forever, lifetimes, longing, love, sighs

 

 

I’m just kicking stones, chasing loneliness — nothing much to do;
In my dusty hat and western boots — soles are worn clear through.
I’m leaving heartache, going nowhere fast, more dead than alive.
At daybreak, feet are pointing to, Desperation Drive.

When you’re down and out, in a hard luck place, no stars shine at night;
I’ve been looking down, such a long, long time, just can’t see the light.
Haven’t got a cent, haven’t got a friend, no will to survive;
That’s the reason why, I’m heading for, Desperation Drive.

There was a woman — vowed she loved me, caught the midnight train;
She took my money, left my broken heart, drowning in the rain.
Got to leave this town, have to hitch a ride, out on highway five;
If they ask me where, I’m going I’ll say to, Desperation Drive.

I miss that woman, she’s still in mind, the breeze whispers her name;
She’s mean and evil, but my lonely heart, wants her just the same.
On the waterfront, I check the bars and every lowdown dive;
If she’s not there, I’ll find a place on, Desperation Drive.

 

 
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Desperation Drive

Tags

apathy, despair, desperation, destiny, dreams, fear, longing, lost love, mystery, romance, sighs

.

Just kicking stones, down a long dirt road — nothing much to do.
Got my Stetson and my ridin’ boots — soles are worn clear through.
Leaving heartache, going nowhere fast, more dead than alive.
At daybreak, feet are pointing to, Desperation Drive.

When you’re down and out, in a hard luck place, no stars shine at night;
I’ve been looking down, such a long, long time, just can’t see the light.
Haven’t got a cent, haven’t got a friend, no will to survive;
That’s the reason why, I’m heading for, Desperation Drive.

Venezuela vowed she loved me true, caught the midnight train;
She took my money, left my broken heart, lying in the rain.
Got to leave this place, got to hitch a ride, out on highway five;
If they ask me where, I’m going, I’ll say,  “Desperation Drive.”

I miss that woman, she’s on my mind, the breeze still sighs her name;
She’s mean and evil, but my lonely heart, loves her just the same.
On the waterfront I’ll check the bars and every lowdown dive;
If she’s not there, I’ll rent a place on, Desperation Drive.

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Soon It Will Be Dark

Tags

blues, death, despair, desperation, emotion, loneliness, longing, lost love, mystery, nature, personal

.

.

i walked this path
when love was young
and buds about to spring —
colors bright, breezes soft
no want for anything.

there was a time
for boundless hope
and dreams of evermore.
now i wander aimlessly
my joints are getting sore.

where went this youth
these dreams and songs
that winged on words of love?
left with geese flocking south
chorus sounds above.

now the trail is sodden
with limp and trodden leaves;
gone the color and the spark.
trees and i are getting old
soon it will be dark.

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Careful With That Axe, Eugene

Tags

compassion, delusion, despair, desperation, emotion, empathy, fantasy, free, mental illness, music, psychedelic rock, schizophrenia

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.

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Eugene had a mind of his own,
not, as some would say, a sound mind,
but his own mind, nevertheless.

“It’s awfully considerate of you
to think of me here.
And I’m most obliged to you
for making it clear
that I’m not here.”

Eugene was a great musician,
taking music to the limit;
his songs will always survive.
Eugene took drugs to the limit;
he’s now in Interstellar Overdrive.

When we observed him with an axe,
you may understand our concern.
Was he in danger, or were we?

Eugene had already left us in spirit,
but he wandered away that day
and was lost to us forever.

.

.

This poem is dedicated to the memory of “Syd Barrett (born Roger Keith Barrett; 6 January 1946 – 7 July 2006) who was an English singer, songwriter, guitarist and artist. He is most remembered as a founding member of  band Pink Floyd, providing major musical and stylistic direction in their early work, although he left the group in 1968 amidst speculations of mental illness exacerbated by heavy drug use.”

Axe is also British slang for guitar. Pink Floyd’s use of the title Careful With That Axe, Eugene may refer to “Barrett’s behaviour (which) became increasingly unpredictable, partly as a consequence of frequent experimentation with psychedelic drugs such as LSD. Many report having seen him on stage with the group, strumming on one chord through the entire concert, or not playing at all. At a show at The Fillmore West in San Francisco, during a performance of “Interstellar Overdrive”, Barrett slowly detuned his guitar. The audience seemed to enjoy such antics, unaware of the rest of the band’s consternation.” (Source: Wikipedia)

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What Do I Mean?

Tags

abandonment, death, despair, desperation, emotion, fear, free, personal

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I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch,
He said to me, you must not ask for so much.
And a pretty woman
leaning in her darkened door
She cried to me, hey, why not ask for more?
(From “Bird on a Wire” by Leonard Cohen.)

.

“It is impossible to say just what I mean.” [1]
The truth has many viewpoints
each painted by the brush of experience,
trauma, abuse — the list goes on.
What we see and what we hear
depends on who we are and where we’ve been.

Emotions are unreliable —
they may be triggered
by childhood fears of abandonment,
years of bullying,
disease, alcoholic parents.
We all wear our visible and invisible scars.

Some scars we wear with pride,
others we try to submerge,
yet they rise to the surface unexpectedly
like putrefied corpses.
Their corruption taints everything we see
feel, hear or experience.

Worst of all is the insecurity,
inability to trust, unexplainable emotions.
Fears which no longer have relevance
can pull our carpet of security
out from under our feet and leave us sprawling,
helpless as the children we once were.

Is there any hope for the future?
Is there an escape from a haunted past?
Perhaps, for some of us, there is hope —
“Like a bird on the wire,
Like a drunk in a midnight choir” [2]
We can try in our way to be free.

.

(1) From “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T.S. Eliot.
(2) From “Bird on a Wire” by Leonard Cohen.

Journey

Tags

compassion, desperation, emotion, empathy, homeless, kindness, love, loving kindness, personal, philosophy, unconditional love

.

.

I’ve embarked
on a journey of discovery.
I’ve ventured into a foreign district
with its own set of laws and customs;
they speak a different language.
A ghetto, fraught with danger —
even death.

I have friends
who’ve got my back,
and whose back I’ve got;
friends, who’ll fight for me,
for whom I’ve fought —
my family.

There is no map —
a journey of uncertainty.
an underground to fathom.
Each day a revelation,
new understanding,
precious gift,
of love.

.

i do what i can…

Tags

Buddhism, Christianity, compassion, despair, desperation, emotion, empathy, homeless, kindness, love, philosophy

.

.

i’m sitting on the sidewalk
as a woman, huddled in a blanket,
a patterned do-rag on her head,
sobs on my shoulder.
i put my arm around her
and say, “it’s okay.”
knowing that nothing is okay,
it will never be okay.

i’m beyond my depth.
i don’t know what to do,
or what to say…
anything that comes to mind
is shallow and meaningless.
this woman’s experiences
are completely foreign to me.
what do I know —
about alcoholism?
about motorcycle gangs?
about sleeping on the streets?

all i can do is let her cry,
tell her that she has forgiveness,
that what saddens her,
what keeps her awake,
or gives her nightmares,
is all in the past.
it’s time to forgive herself
and love herself
and live
in the present moment.

she can’t go on.
she can’t stand the pain.
she can’t do this any more.
drink is the only thing
that numbs her mind;
enough to endure,
enough to pass out at night
and do it all over again
the next day.

i can only do
and say so much.
it’s always a pleasant surprise
to see her sitting on the sidewalk,
knowing that she’s made it
through another night;
that she hasn’t been taken
by violence, sickness
or the police.

i do what i can.

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Tulips

Tags

compassion, desperation, emotion, empathy, homeless, kindness, love, nature, personal, philosophy, spiritual

.

For sentient beings, poor and destitute,
May I become a treasure ever plentiful,
And lie before them closely in their reach,
A varied source of all that they might need. ~ Shantideva

.

.

They’ve transplanted
the homeless
to make room
for tulips —

they’re a tourist attraction.

We’ve all read
the statistics
on homelessness.
There’s no need
to be reminded.

There’s no need
to see their faces,
or look into their eyes,
see the hurt, the pain,
the tears —

they’re not a tourist attraction.

Perhaps, if we spent
as much time, money and effort
dealing with the root causes
of homelessness —
as we do on tulips —
there wouldn’t be
a problem.

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Sitting On the Curb

Tags

compassion, desperation, empathy, homeless, kindness, love, loving kindness, personal, philosophy, spiritual, unconditional love

.

.

I sit cross-legged on the curb
with my friends, my street family,
panhandlers, alcoholics, addicts.
We talk about the past, mostly;
although, trials of the moment
sometimes come to the surface:
who will go on a liquor run,
who got out of prison,
the problem of bed bugs,
an appearance at court,
a ticket for a liquor violation
or for jumping a bus.

Someone asks for a cigarette
a beer, a swig of sherry
or a combination of the three.
A joint is passed,
‘Don’t bogart it!’ someone says,
or ‘6 up’ if the cops are near.
We know that we’re looked down upon
both literally and figuratively.
We notice expressions
on the faces of passers-by:
fear, disgust, annoyance.
I won’t say it doesn’t bother me;
on the other hand, those passing by
are nothing to me, they’re entitled
to their opinions, as I am to mine.

I’ve learned a lot, sitting on the curb
a new language, friendship, acceptance,
compassion…
If I’m ever homeless, I have people to turn to
for food, a blanket, a place to sleep,
maybe couch surfing in a bug infested room,
or a piece of cardboard behind a dumpster.
I’ve got someone to take my back —
or my 6 o’clock — if needed,
as I would take theirs.
I’ve learned to appreciate these things
and the people who offer them.
It’s all they have in the world
and they offer them to me.

I hear of growing up
with abusive, alcoholic parents,
children molested, beaten, thrown out.
It’s no wonder where they are,
what they are, who they are.
Where they are is in a family that cares.
Who they are is individuals, not a designation.
What they are is human, sensitive, caring;
more like you, than you realize.
Most of all, they are my family.

.

Lost Brave

Tags

compassion, despair, desperation, destiny, dreams, emotion, empathy, homeless, loneliness, love, spiritual

 

 

a lost brave
leans against a building
(tho he is unwelcome)
beside a busy walk.
everything he owns
fills a pack
upon his back

he is far
from his fishing boat,
an ocean teeming with fish,
from the majestic forest,
from his children,
his clan

his eyes reveal
a story of hurt and pain –
the uncertainty of the city.
a sidewalk for a bed,
charity of strangers
his only grace

a challenge
every day –
a new beginning.
beyond the fire
that tames his demons
the only plan that matters
is to survive

far from home
he can scarce remember.
a lost brave, fighting back tears,
pride in the knowledge
of his ancestry,
his place –
his blood

 

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