unnamed

entry picture

Unnamed.

 

The lossless homeless

Living tomorrow every day.

Sometimes magic beset their minds

As reality unfolds and enfolds.

 

Fifty pence in a battered cap

As they stroke their lives companion

A mongrel dog of dubious parentage

Whose eyes carry depths of love.

 

Sometimes the fifty pence is a twentieth

Of that much hallowed bag of brown.

Keep your needles clean.

Find a safe spot to gouch. 

 

That drug induced slouch.

An imitation of random death.

Veins collapsed and buried deep.

If not the arm go for the groin.

 

Everyday sat with a battered cap

Watching passing hatred

And flying daggers of judgement.

Your past caring.

 

They could piss on you

For that one small bag.

You’d blow them in darkened doorway

Then blow yourself in another one.

 

Your best human friend

Would rob you of everything

To fall frail, mindless godless

Into that hateful harrying hole.

 

Your dog won’t do that!

He’ll just sit and see your hat.

Your ribs protrude for lack of food

Money gouched out in place of pasta.

 

You’ll lie to everyone, everyone.

Its to feed my dog.

Its to feed myself.

True but not food.

 

So still you sit as today turns

Into tomorrow  and tomorrow 

Turns into today.

Who’ll pay? 

◄ Gare Du Nord 1978

Magellans Straight.... ►

Comments

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Patricia and Stefan Wilde

Tue 24th Nov 2020 23:13

We have seen lots of our dear friends from sixties end up like this and we escaped from it by the skins of our teeth, but it wasn't on the same scale as it is today.

We now work with a local homeless charity and we can tell you from the experience of seeing this kind of situation getting worse and worse by the day that society is going to require a hell of a lot more of us to stand up and be counted in order to if not totally eradicate the problem, then at least reduce the numbers of these poor unfortunates who have fallen foul of today's madhouse world.

The other day we saw a group of some of the regular clients who attend the centre having to eat their donated midday meal outside because of the covid situation huddled together in a corner trying to keep each other warm in the howling wind.

Of course, we had a chat with them for a few minutes and then let them get on with their meals.

Both of us walked away with tears in our eyes.

Reading this poem is actually having the same effect but we thank you for posting it and hope that if you ARE the person it refers to that you might have the same luck as we did all those years ago

there but for the grace go we. Pat and Stef xx


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