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Becky Jo Gibson Aug 2016
Desperation feels so intrusive to me.
Like the crazy relative no one wants to see.
Hitting my peace out of the park with ease.
Taking my moments in time to another, full of need.
Can't begin to empty the hole filled by desperate seed.
Then a light of hope opens up the hopeless in me.
Beaming real and complete I feed. Desperations power gone, I find I'm at peace with me.

Becky jo Gibson
Becky Jo Gibson Aug 2016
Flooding waters came as the rain fell on my tent.
It happened so fast I was not able to get out.
Surrounded by water, I watch my friend dig a trench.
I feel so powerlessness it fills me with doubt.

Wondering what I am doing back here in the riverbed.
Before the rain I was happy to have a home and felt good.
It's morning now and I'm grateful I'm not dead.
What was beauty is now ugly, barren, wet, crude.

I wonder if the rain is done with it's showers of despair.
This storm took more from me than material things.
My desperate spirit is also in need of repair.
Time to get up and see what another homeless day brings.
Becky Jo Gibson Aug 2016
Seperate from societies norm we mingle on the streets.
We live in tents, cars, doorways, many sleep on the concrete.
In towns, cities, ghettos, amoung regular folk to societies elite.
We notice anger, fear, disgust on the faces that pass us by.

Every so often a civilian stops to lend a much needed helping hand.
Offering items for norishment, warmth, pets, showing compassion, they seem to understand.
More often its the police with a complaint telling us to disband.
We move on spoiling someone elses day for the space we occupy.

Some of us are lost, alone, mentally ill, no family that gives a ****.
Drug addicts, alcoholics, displaced vets, regular people who lost it all to a scam.
Children, runaways, women who were abused, some don't care, some with plans.
Visible, yet feeling invisible we help one another minute by minute barely getting by.

I helped dozens of homeless people today just like I do everyday.
My chioces are lost in the time it takes to survive and help others along the way.
I can't complain as I have God to help me to make it through each day.
He gives me strength, comfort and peace as people pass unable to look me in the eye.

The feeling that comes over me when I give to someone like me...
Humble comes to mind, so does joy; only when I give do I feel truly free.
That is when I feel at one with God and totally 100% right with me.
Being homeless is ******* ones spirit; the pain I see often makes me want to cry.

As the days became years I see that God has a purpose for me here.
Sometimes I wonder what it is other times it's perfectly clear.
I find I do a lot better when I keep the Good Book near.
I praise the Lord, I read his word, I speak his name, I look people in the eye.

There's no denying the need that falls upon people when we're out here.
I'm doing my best to help open people's eyes and make our plight very clear.
Fact is most of us really don't want to live like this...we see alot, live in fear.
The mind very powerful, it feeds the soul with what it sees most it does not deny.

When people look at us with hate, fear, all things foul and without concern for souls.
Takes our hope, self worth leaving emptiness where we may have once been whole.
Products of our environment we get stuck for lack of eyes that see out of this hole.
I pray everyday that each one of us finds the love we need and gives us wings to fly.

.
As I wrote this poem I found myself wanting to create words to help readers to understand us, the homeless. There are so many reasons we are here that understanding is perhaps to lofty a goal. I would be content to just not be judged. I would be thrilled just to be looked in the eye
Becky Jo Gibson Aug 2016
I woke up under a bridge
alone
it's dark under here
my eyes still haven't adjusted
I think I have bed bugs
at least I am dry, well sort of
recalling yesterday
my morning spent packing
rain is clearly taking my home
I feel it in my bones
hurry
no one is going to help
where did all this stuff come from?
I really don't need this or this or this or this
what a day that was
today will be worse
the ground is wet and mud is abound
stinky already, just wait till it settles
homeless has a smell
rain is not my friend
surely it is not the same as before
when the sky was not my ceiling

Becky Jo  Gibson
Becky Jo Gibson Aug 2016
allowing you inside gave way to regret
not because I love you so complete
unrequitted is the reason I fret
your desire for me to be discreet

those times when you acted distant towards me
when you wouldn't show up and ignore my calls
I ignored all the obvious reasons to leave you be
instead I steady let down my walls

testing the boundries of my love  
learning how to love no matter what
seems you were sent from above
for me to know I can love despite deep cuts

I'm not so love poor after all
my love for you is still alive and real
I forgave you every lie, big and small
I will always love you...its truly love I feel

becky jo gibson © all rights reserved
Becky Jo Gibson Aug 2016
Does your mouth still taste me?
My *** all up in your soul taking moments from your typical day.
Planting you in a memory that tingles.

Overwhelming you and leaving you full of desire all mine.
Desire only I can remove.
Only our touch fulfills the need.

Does your body remember the way I feel and respond?
Your mouth tastes me as memories fill all your senses.

You smile and allow a moan to escape you from deep inside.
Do you shake it off or let it take you back?
Wrapping you up in us.
Feeling all that we were.

Do you remember?
Can you still feel me?

Becky Jo Gibson 11-3-15
Becky Jo Gibson Aug 2016
Eyes sparkling.
Hands touching.
Bodies molding.
Mouths taking.
Legs wrapping.
Hips moving.
Desire enveloping.
Passion consuming.
Need feeding.
Release building.
Satisfaction complete
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