Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Alex McQuate May 2023
Think of the *****,
The hobo,
The Great American Travlin' Man,
Seeing the sights,
The great spans of this weird and wonderful county,
Taking in places that will never be seen by you or me.

We look down upon them,
Or with indifference,
Content with our homes, cars, and jobs,
But consider this you,
With these things would we really be considered free?

Chained by loans,
By the banks,
By a mortgage or three?
Who's more at liberty,
Us or the ***** travlin' the street?
Benjamin Tod- Ballad of Spider John
A lost hungry vagrant
on a train to nowhere
everywhere's his home

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII🚂IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII­IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

     on a patch of hay
     in the heat of day
     he doesn't bother to get
     on his knees and pray

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII­IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII🚂IIIIIIIII
      
          everything he wants
          is in his sweat and blood
          the shirt on his back
          and his matter of fact

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII🚂IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII­IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

                                     ­          no one can touch his
                                               solitary freedom
                                               even when burdened with chains
                                               and in heavy rains

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII­IIIIIIIIIIII🚂IIIIIIIIIIIIII

                    he flies through time
                    known by himself
                    on a patch of hay

III🚂IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII­IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

        in an empty, lonely cart
        on a train to nowhere
        wandering the face of the earth

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII🚂IIIIIIIIIIIII­IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

yearning for Starlight💫
Artem Mars Mar 2020
“And I will search the fcking depths of this
Stupid place my kids will have to live
In order just to smile a little bit
But you know
I'm thoroughly in love with you
And yeah, I'm really scared that I may never change
But I'm so f
cking done being so afraid
I really hope that you find happiness”
“At best, stay the same, so you'll be f*cking world-renowned
While I'm getting drunk at my house”
“So I will sit and I will drink myself to either to sleep or my untimely death
Either way, I hope that you don't cry, you know
That's just a part of life”
“Because there's something that's inside my head
That will click and make me drink until I'm dead
So I will sit and I will think about this life
And if I even like it”
Happiness by Hobo Johnson is a really deep feeling
Hits a little too close to home
And I’ll have to spend time healing
Because emptiness is growing
And I start to feel something is showing
Like the little signs inside my brain are telling me to do it
My genetic structure is fulfilling its purpose
And I start to feel worthless
And all I do is heartless
Now I start to hurt us
And you think it isn't worth it
But I promise I’m just hurting
And I’ll get over forests
And I will be a burden
But that's ok
You know? It all fades away
Until I'm nothing right?
And everyone starts laughing at me
You know I'm right
I paid my price
The worst is yet to come
And everyone is stunned to see I made it
Because those nights got really dark
And I played it
Right, but I don't have the cards
Success, correct? They all think I'm happy.
Using some quotes from Hobo Johnson
My life may be a train wreck
I drink hard to hide the pain
Even though I am a train wreck
I'm still the driver of this train

Haven't been derailed as yet
But,  I've almost left the track
Even though I am a train wreck
I keep on coming back

I've spent some time in lock up
Just in county for a night
For being drunk in public
And a few times for a fight

My life is heading nowhere
But I'm making **** good time
My life is just a train wreck
Brother, spare a dime

The rabbit hole is calling
Do I venture down to see?
Do I listen to the voices?
Even if the voice is me

I'm a train wreck set to happen
I went to church once to confess
I passed out while I was waiting
Even sober, I'm a mess

I won't go into details
About the mistakes I have made
Let's say in life's account book
I didn't make the grade

My life it is a train wreck
One day I'll leave the rails
It's a 50 50 bet though
I chose heads and I get tails

One more drink tonight though
Then some shelter from the storm
I'll find a dumpster somewhere
One that's full so I keep warm

My name it's not important
You won't remember, so don't ask
I can see the whole way through you
There are cracks there in your mask

Let me live in silence
Let me die the same way too
My life it is a train wreck
And there's no room here for two
Star BG Jun 2019
i am a word hobo
caravanning
inside a journey
filled with inspirational scenes.
W
O
R
D
S
gathers that I scoop up
and place in backpack
of mind.

My walking stick pen balances me,
as focused inside steps ground.

IF it rains emotions flow
IF it's sunny birds GRACE ears
making phases into songs.

When I arrive a-top of mountain
and plant flag
it means poem is done.

I am a word hobo
and I wouldn't have it
aNY OTHER WAY.
Viseract Sep 2017
Hell, I'd run out on the street and hug a hobo
Just because it feels so good to not be flying solo
Low-key hopeless caught in action movie slow-mo
Heart racing, escalating my chest about to blow though

Tick tick kaboom, you made me more room
Rather than remove my mind roughly you made it real smooth
Laying awake til four only thinking of you
And all the things between us that i wanna pursue

Or kick-start or keep going,
These words wantonly flowing
I'm just saying what I'm thinking blindfolded i know it's glowing
The light around the edges telling me what i see
And what i see is my Queen amidst all of her beauty
I know you'll read this eventually. Love ya **
M Norris Jun 2017
As the snowflakes start falling
I am left cold, and wanting.
Carols, like thick smoke, fill the air
Serenading people who didn't see me there.
Boney hands outstretched like a leafless tree
There are some things people don’t wish to see

Alms, alms, just for one hot meal,
Alms for Christmas, don’t make me steal.
Alms, for cocoa with peppermint and cream
Alms for kindness, for a childhood dream.

But my hands remained empty, catching only snow
The wool clad shoppers bustling past, rush rush, two days to go.
They pay me no heed for I am ragged, unsightly
They don’t want to ***** their conscience, for it shines so brightly.

The streets, eerily quiet on this cold winter morning.
Empty, not a soul in sight, not a caroler performing.
Frost laden windows reveal a world now beyond my grasp,
In tired eyes tears well as I'm visited by Christmas’ past.

A snowcapped landscape fills my thoughts
A small cabin by the woods is where I'm brought.
The sun is just starting to peek above the mountain,
Its rays springing forth like a golden fountain.

Wake up early! Before Mom and Dad,
We had to see what new toys we had.
“Look *****, look! Santa was here!
He left a print in the hearth and fed his reindeer!”
Mom made coffee as dad rubbed his eyes,
Once presents were done, we had one last surprise,
Once presents were done, we had one last dream.
hot cocoa, with peppermint and cream!

And then it was gone, like the crack of a whip,
It was gone before I got even a single sip.
Back to the seeping cold, the piercing chill
As I sit alone on Christmas under a windowsill.
I was alone,
the chill, more piercing now
Reaching my bones.
In houses all around me families sharing love and cheer.
It hurt me so much more to be so near.

Alms, alms just for one warm embrace,
Alms to banish these tears from my face.
Alms, alms to stay strong and endure
Alms, alms, the end is near.
Yes, This is a Christmas poem in June, its also very dark. Do people ever see just how rough the world can be?
Eric L Warner Aug 2016
A veritable caricature of Jeremiah Johnson, I strung out on "truth"
     years ago.
Sitting amongst August sidewalks which sweat like a ***** in heat,
     I verbally assault passersby.
With a slurred battle cry of, "I can out merlot you any day!" I fall to
     my knees, unsure of which direction is up.
I try not to think of words like vertigo, or.....vertigo.
A honking car sounds life back into me, but the windows are tinted so
    I can't tell if I have it coming or not.
I flip em' the bird, just to be sure.
Eric L Warner Aug 2016
Where God's colors renew the horizon's edge, Salvation Soldiers
     aren't to be found.
And while prairie dogs find themselves squatters on their own land,
     upper crust artists show us where the day old bread is.
This is a good place to clear your head if ever there was one.
Where dusty markets lead down dusty roads, which lead right into
      the middle of where I want to be.
Free and Alone on the side of a mountain, where the sun don't
     apologize to me, and I don't have to explain myself to anyone else.

Some go ahead and call this God's Country.
But I call this place New Mexico.
Eric L Warner Aug 2016
Bus stop dreads stop me in my tracks because I'm too white to be coming
   around here.
My clothes are too ***** and my smile too honest.
I live a life of privilege that has nothing to do with the color of my skin or
   the "insufficient funds" in my bank account.
Idle time is the devil's plaything they say,
But the devil has always sent his own to take care of me.
So we just keep on walking, not to be judged by the race based politics of those who have no recognized power over us.
Next page