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.


   By Anonymous



  SP_A1706.jpg


  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)


  SP A1947


  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 


  SP A3369 

 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
 


 
 window treemini

 

 


                                                   

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