Share article Poetry written by homeless: All poems written by homeless... Photographs by Mathieu Jaïs & Gabriell ...
All poems written by homeless...
Photographs by Mathieu Jaïs & Gabriella Novak
A doplet of rain falls from the sky.
As i mingle with passers by.
And i simply relax my poor old brain.
As the traffic is on the move again.
This is the start of a perfect day.
The city is just ten miles away.
And i think of the joy a nice walk brings.
To the heart of a boy as the blackbird sings.
I slept in peace all through the night.
With some anada geese on internal flight.
And another mile has slipped on by.
In the easy style of a winking eye.
Well my body parts are all on the move.
And my beating heart's right in the groove.
And when i arrive i'll have biscuits and tea.
Great god i'm alive oh lucky me.
Twinkling stars cant keep you warm
when your sleeping in the park till he break of dawn
newspaper pillow and a plastic tarp
watching for he pigs that come out after dark
lost your job got jacked and robbed
your landlord said thats not my prob
doctor bills kill you cant afford the pills
now youre shaking heart breaking drink as much as you spill
waiting on the first to quench your thirst
alleviate the discomfort of an asphalt earth
trying to find a shelter to get some rest
but nowhere seems safe without a knife proof vest
if you could just get back to square one
start to heal the disease thats got you on the run
feeling invisible going insane
scowls and nightsticks fall like rain
James Chionsini (One check away)
Ankles and shoes, ankles and shoes,
Submerged beneath the financial news,
A coin may be flipped, a coin may be tossed,
A soul self serving, a breakfast of frost,
Memory fragments, drew down the curtain,
Breath still exhaled, reasons uncertain,
Herds of strangers with familiar laces,
Test acoustics of a concrete matrix,
Intruding upon a homeless muse,
Left with the vision of ankles and shoes.
By Scott Abbott
Homeless that’s what they call us
They say we have no home
Because we live out on the streets
And choose to drift and roam
But, homeless is that what we truly are
Who knows maybe it is
But what about the heroes
The women and the kids
They say we chose this life of freedom
To live out on our own
To sleep beneath the stars at night
To live our lives alone
Webster says a home’s is just a domicile
A place to live, a house
If that’s all it really is
Then I know I can live without
Some say its where your heart is
And we pray that this is true
Cause some of us have spilt our blood
And it was red and white and blue
Some say that we are crazy
That we sold our souls to cheap
Because we’ll sell our bodies
Just so our kids can eat
But If you think we choose this life
Then its you who’s lost your mind
To suggest we woke up one morning
And said I’ll leave it all behind
To live the life of a prostitute,
An addict, or a drunk
To wear the same clothes every day
That we carry in a trunk
To Sell our bodies like a piece of meat
Because we cannot cope
To beg all day every day
Just to buy the dope
To watch the people laugh at us
That look right into our face
Who forget that we are there
Unless we’re in their space
Like when we beg for food
Or break into their house
To still a million dollars
More like a sandwich or a blouse
Well there now we have it
The materialistic chain
That wraps around your human heart
Depriving oxygen to your brain
Making you think that we are homeless
Because your blind and cannot see
That a home is where your family is
And we are all your family
We might be sick and tired
We may be down and out
But were still the long lost relatives
This world tries to forget about
By Benjamin T. Fisher II