All poetry, writing, and paintings on this blog are my own unless otherwise stated, and are not to be copied without my consent, or at least give me credit.







Social justice is the only justice.







Thursday, July 14, 2011

The homeless and their stories





What if? 

The moonlight across the ceiling wakens me
Banked in silver clouds its light shines brightly
These gloriously cheap sheets feel like silk against my skin
The flat pillow filled with dreams
Tomorrow I must leave this dirty heaven
I can no longer pay the rent
From the highest heights I fell
Too many mistakes weigh like chains around my ankles
Regrets hold my securely
I leave with a bag packed with worldly possessions
The bleak sidewalk my new home
I rub my shaven chin looking for inspiration
My neatly combed hair is just pretending prosperity
My suit saved for Sunday is worn in hope of compassion
I wear the same suit on Thursday and Saturday
Tourists and locals alike ignore me
Just another waste of life looking for charity
I used to have it all
Family, friends, work
Dreams
But they do not want to know I was one of them
I am now invisible; they avoid my eyes with easy practice
The unforgiving sun warms me on this park bench
Wary mothers pull children way
I wonder where my children are
Are they happy and prosperous?
Do they have children?
Do they play in the snow?
The chill wind breaks through the newspaper stuffed in my shoes
Yesterday’s news is my only insulation
The park bench my only shelter on this winter night
My memories burn like a well stoked fireplace
My memories fail to warm me
I wake as the moon drifts across the sky
Banked in silver clouds
She comes down and wraps her wings around me
She whispers in my ear “it’s alright”
Unshaven, with dirty hair
My Sunday suit in tatters
My dreams intact
She carries me away.