My little homeless man is gone.
He either found himself a home
Or else they've moved him on.

I look at the spot where he was once.
That place he sat and slept at for months
Since we've have had a couple cool front.

He is missed since he has gone; home; moved on.

The Biblical heart
The complete inner person,
including one’s
desires,
thoughts,
disposition,
attitude,
capabilities,
motivations,
and goals.

The metaphorical heart
can be led astray,
down a path,
into harm,
leap,
be joyful
jump for joy
guide,
blacken,
Love.

Know your own heart
For out of it are
The sources of life,
Love,
Wisdom,
Integrity,
Health,
Envy,
Hate,
Your "fate."

Fate is not
something written
and unchangeable.  
It is the will,
the determining cause
like an arrow aimed taking a certain course.
That depends on the skill of the one aiming it.
Fate is in your hands,
not the universe.
It is not an unforeseen excuse for you to use.

I watch him from afar
From across the bayou
He lies and sits next to
The building on a ledge
It is not his true home
It is his summer home
I guess as I watch him
Sleep all day, lie, and sit
Lie and sit, and stare
It appears that he sees me
As I see him seeing me there
On his roost, day after day
What is he thinking
When he sees me watching
Does he envy my comfy space
Does he wonder about my life
As I wonder about his life
When he is not there I worry
Has something happened
On rainy days he's not there
And I hope he has a dry place
Is as safe as the homeless can be
Does he panhandle nearby
Does he make enough to eat
Are others kind to him
Is he a ******* or insane
How can he sleep on cement
Long hours go by, he sleeps
Where will he go when it's cold
I wish that he would just go
Out of sight out of mind
But he will haunt me a while
Even when he's no longer there
But I wish that he would leave
My heart can't take in his pain
He has already filled it up

Some rush to the train wreck
To seek a sick thrill
Others flee the train wreck
Afraid of what they might feel

Some rush to the train wreck
Not for the thrill,
Not afraid of what they feel
Because they genuinely care

About those in the train wreck

We were beautiful once.
Beautiful mom, handsome dad.
Such beautiful children produced.

But what is the use when scattered
From pillar to post all around this earth
And cannot find our way back to our home.

Butterflies makes themselves beautiful
From an ugly worm inside a strange case.
They are always able to find their way home.

(a corny little poem)
A happy moon smiled at me
If you just look you will see
The happiest skies are filled with love
The moon, the sun, the stars above
So, with this poem I send a hug
And let all above give your heart a tug

Come, grieve with me
The bitter knowledge
Our beloved family tribes
Slaughtered by invaders,
Thieves of greedy intent.

I have put my seed
In this basket woven
By my ancestor's hand
Placed in those outside
Of our Nation to carry

Safely forward.  It had to be
Or we would cease to be.
Take this vessel of blood.
Spread it throughout
What becomes our Nation.