Middy 7d

Hello dear child
Are you new in this world?
Don't be scared
I'm glad you joined
So I can toy with your mind
And mess up your world

To the left you'll find the history
Of bombs, suicides and death
In the attacks with the word terror
Look there and you'll see why
You'll be shocked by the flames
The tears, the pain and the loss
You'll be crying and wondering
Why does this happen?

To the right you'll find the starving
The sick, the homeless, the dead
The sick and elderly, the ill
The ones who are mentally scarred
They keep crying out for help
They keep asking for money
And begging for food and drink
I would be kind and give them
A little money and a bite to eat

Have you heard of the rich?
Boy you’ll be surprised
They are government
Gentlemen, ladies, leaders
War starters, war lovers,
Positions and debaters
Some are greedy, some are wise
But which will you be?

Speaking of which, who are you?
A fighter? An artist? A poet?
A dancer? An acrobat? A dreamer?
A song writer? A reader? A writer?
Who are you?
In this world of black and white
And a slight hint of grey
That’s for me to know
And for you to find out

Inspired after responding to a comment on my latest poem.
I don't know why but I'm laughing at it wondering what I was thinking
You know who you are
Vexren4000 Oct 11

Sir, Can you spare some change?
To homeless man inquired,
To that,
No, I would say,
Work your way in life,
And do not live a life,
Where you have to beg another man,
For something, you do not even need,
To survive,
In defiance of me,
Again he responds,
Sir, Can you spare some change?
Again I sternly state No.
Work your way in life,
Survive on your own.

Poetic T Oct 7

Were vagabonds of the streets!
each one a collection of memories,
carried like a hearse on our shoulders.
Waiting to be buried in shallow graves.

Did you read every epilogue of sadness
that collected on so many brows...
Each a sentence of our life deleted
by life's eroding moments.

We could hold life in single use bags.
Never reused but fading at the handles
of life's weight. We collect like refuse
in the corners of close shutters, static.

Did you read every epilogue of sadness
that collected on so many brows...
Each a sentence of our lives deleted
by life's eroding moments.

Time is chains on the pressures of
every moment, every step reminds us
of all the mistakes that brought us here..
Life is smothering us as we sleep alone..

Ammar Sep 29

i have the option to live in
one of three countries
one of four cities
one of five houses
and still
not one place
i can call home

Wandering night-time streets
Craving cigarettes and clear conscience
Running to find a way, to find you
I thought I was the only one who cared
Why am I so determined?

I picture you with a cigarette in your hand
The ashes fall to the ground we know too well
You tell me everything, then nothing
Do I deserve to know this much?
Why you went missing for a day?

my friend why do we suffer so?

but there's a block in the road to ruin.
you're denied the oblivion
you've finally come to terms with;
your chance to fade seamlessly into the dark

well, you'd wished only for breathing space.
the street was more inviting than
that fire-pit of a house. it's rebellion, justified.
here, there's comfort in concrete;
pitch-black, your cigarette a torch.

the hours pass like seconds
before you're hunted down;
guided 'home' in cuffs of guilt.
the lights flash blue all the way.

when was the last time
your mother cried like that?
are you starting to realise
you never wanted to be found?

a lot has happened today
Delia Joy Sep 20

A thousand eyes but
Nobody sees
A single face
That silently pleads
Quietly asking
With muffled cries
For someone to save her
Dry her tearstained eyes

Thousands of people but
She’s all alone
Completely unknown
With dirty hands
And calloused feet
Begging of strangers
Who’s eyes won’t meet

A thousand voices
A single plea
Unsteady legs
And blistered feet
Her shallow stomach
Has her doubled in pain
She finds some cardboard
To shelter from the rain

A thousand questions
Nobody hears
She sits alone
A slave to her fears
Her eyes close
Still broken and lost
She’ll sleep the night
But wonder at the cost

A thousand people
Walk down this street
Somebody sees her
She feels their eyes meet
How does it end?
Does she get what she needs?
You are who sees her
So you tell me

My goal with this poem was to shed light on basically everyone out there who's hurting or in a rough place. There's a lot of poverty and brokenness and depression and things out there and every single day we see it and there's so much we can do about it. Not necessarily in the huge ways we see on TV or hear about around school, but a smile goes a long way. Someone who's hungry and shunned would appreciate any kind gesture; food, a conversation, anything at all. The tiniest things we do can save a life. Remember that for me.
Peter Balkus Sep 17

Sorry for ignoring you
when you approached me in the street,
I didn't say a word and left you behind
not because you looked different
and not because I don't like you,
but because I was fucked.

It's not because I don't care,
it's not because you don't look like me,
I've had really, really bad day
and I was thinking of giving up,
that's why, my friend, only that's why.

Sorry for saying nothing
when you asked me for a spare change,
it's not because I despise you,
or hate you or anything else.
It's because I was fucked,
and even I looked proud and sharp,
inside I was down on my knees,
in the depth of the darkest night,
trying to find the way out,
not finding any ways out.

You were happier man than me,
that day, when I see you in the street.

Aditya Roy Sep 13

Bob Dylan said in an interview
For the 1970 intentionally underwhelming album Self Portrait
That people need leaders more than the reverse point of view
And so do you
So get off the government’s property
Or they’ll rig the functioning of the military and bring the full force on you

Follow your leaders
Because with your political views
They think you’re blind people who can’t see the crowd
And are simply fireplace thinkers
But what about the people who have a bonfire which they share with heart
Instead of having a hearth
Get off the government’s property
Run from place to place and observe propriety for a start

To them we say go get a job
To clean our urbane streets
But they hope they don’t have to rob
Or get owned or robbed
So get off the government’s property
Or they’ll own you literally and party members will get you mobbed

They lay claim on all the money
Making everything taxable instead of free
For the poor who don’t even enter a tax bracket
And always lie and beg on the streets and cause a blissfully ignored racket
So please get off the government’s property
While we enjoy your money as you stay off the stock market

The government also owns the land we live on. Unless you're rich and can keep your rights as cards in your nice wallet.
Peter Balkus Aug 27

If I didn't have you, then what would I have?
A life without life, a time without time?
A house without windows, a church without God,
a love without heart, a heart without love.

I've been walking down the Bayswater Road,
looking at my shadow as it walks me off,
and I asked myself with tears in my eyes:
If I didn't have you, then who would I have?

I'd be like a homeless sleeping in the street,
like a wingless angel or an orphaned kid,
with no money, no purpose, no sight and no hope.

If I left you behind, then where would I go?

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