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butch-decatoriaPoems
In this city's desert morning sinful heat of Summers vagabond streets eating away whats left of joyful youth's humanity Thin and mild mannered tattoo novice ink inarticulate drawings of adolescent ***** gnarly scabs / a missing tooth walking dead in flip flops pain clawing his expression all loss in its translation and Need is loud - a vagrant shout but I have no money to give... Young man, in his wife beater tank, smears of dirt his wastrel work crawling through the black though this morning's blinding sobriety forces its friendship on you                  find a way back... Young man, here's some breakfast warm and steady in the war-time melee of your stomach empty as the shame that must be lingering in your pulse, here's some shoes and water too keep cool in this hateful heat keep on toward home toward mother's arms if that's all the choice you got survive or not. Here's a moment kindly passing not a dollar or a hit, I hope you make it to the next one and maybe another kindness will be won in the ripples of this pond where loss is the stone you are sinking below the surface deeply hidden it's only a matter of realizing, we are born to swim in it we're made of lightning when you resurface be strong and kindly wash away the dark nightly chiding Young man, I see this morning crying will wake and learn he's the only one he's fighting human and kind and life and time appear to be casualties in the mind when we mindlessly dis' & gorge on wish for something equal, gold and fine... Young man, "god bless" he says goodbye there's nothing left to hold on to but your soul's worth and hearts of those who love you That is what you're searching to find   Yourself in their eyes...?
0
Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 1:03 PM UTC
YOUNG VAGRANT
In this city's desert morning sinful heat of Summers vagabond streets eating away whats left of joyful youth's humanity Thin and mild mannered tattoo novice ink inarticulate drawings of adolescent ***** gnarly scabs / a missing tooth walking dead in flip flops pain clawing his expression all loss in its translation and Need is loud - a vagrant shout but I have no money to give... Young man, in his wife beater tank, smears of dirt his wastrel work crawling through the black though this morning's blinding sobriety forces its friendship on you                  find a way back... Young man, here's some breakfast warm and steady in the war-time melee of your stomach empty as the shame that must be lingering in your pulse, here's some shoes and water too keep cool in this hateful heat keep on toward home toward mother's arms if that's all the choice you got survive or not. Here's a moment kindly passing not a dollar or a hit, I hope you make it to the next one and maybe another kindness will be won in the ripples of this pond where loss is the stone you are sinking below the surface deeply hidden it's only a matter of realizing, we are born to swim in it we're made of lightning when you resurface be strong and kindly wash away the dark nightly chiding Young man, I see this morning crying will wake and learn he's the only one he's fighting human and kind and life and time appear to be casualties in the mind when we mindlessly dis' & gorge on wish for something equal, gold and fine... Young man, "god bless" he says goodbye there's nothing left to hold on to but your soul's worth and hearts of those who love you That is what you're searching to find   Yourself in their eyes...?
butch-decatoria
Written by
butch-decatoria
47/M
Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 1:03 PM UTC
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