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A M Ryder Sep 12
It's really humiliating
To be shaking a cup
24 hours a day
And people just look
At you like you're
Some sort of ***

I go to fill out applications
They look at me and
I'm not looking presentable
And then they
"Well, we'll call you
Leave a number"
But how can I leave a number
When I don't have a phone

It's just a struggle

I've had people
walk past me and
Say "get a job you ***"
And I said "wait a minute"
"I'm not a ***,
I'm a human"

And, it's hard

After the end of the day
When people go home
I just feel so bad
That I can't be
Going home too
Steven Boston Aug 29
Dwelling where the tears cry blood
echoed nightmares ghost my tortured shell
In streets not paved in gold
but misery mountains that I scale everyday
wearily sauntering around their slippy slopes

As I die a little bit more everyday

Sitting on my concrete throne
chained to the only thing I know
an abyss of loniless
my friend
my foe

As I die a little bit more everyday
This poem is about being homeless which I have experienced in my life. Now removed from it I wrote about it.
mark soltero Aug 7
down the pavement
we're moving fast
the sun is coming up
my whole world has been turned upside down
nowhere to go
you tell me to relax

the sense of hope fills me
little did i know this was the start of our life
Graff1980 Jul 12
Have you forgotten me,
the grey beard that lives nowhere,
hungry, and looking through
ash trays for some stray ****
with just enough tobacco
to get a hit of relief.

Awkward as hell,
occasionally, talking to myself
because nobody else
wants to even acknowledge me.

These are my city streets.
This is my cold hard concrete,
an indifferent existence
cause people go out of there way
to ignore my presence.

Slender man who scans
the eyes of strangers
for some opening,
so I can ask them
for a cigarette
or a couple of bucks to get
anything to eat.

Shoulders slumped,
back collapsing under the weight
of exhaustion, cause it’s getting late
and I don’t have a place to stay.

So, I stumble about till I find
the closest spot to safe where
I can sleep and no one there
will threaten or shoe me away.

Like groundhog’s day
I repeat, a shade of myself,
echoing just enough
to survive another night.
Thomas W Case May 26
Her skin is full
of holes, and
she's ***** by
the dawn on a
daily basis;
wandering the midnight
streets of this
broken City.
Her feet are
calloused and raw.
That once tough heart is
soft now, looking for
love in the rabid
faces of evil.
Seagulls still fly into
cars, and spiders
spin webs in the dark.
Abandoned houses have
become her home
and her soul aches
for someone to hold.
Sometimes,
dreams float by,
like a dragonfly
on a soft breeze.
Jaicob Apr 11
"Get out,"
I was told.
"Leave my sight"
I packed a bag.
"Just leave"
I rode off.
"Come back"
I was chased.
"I love you"
My bike was taken.
"You can't leave"
I'm crying.
Your arms hold no comfort for me.
My parents say they love me... Is love chasing somebody away from their home and taking their bike?
Take your Seven Deadly Sins,
And butcher them with punctuation.

Capitalize on floods, famines and fires.

Express sickness, war and homelessness.

Parse politics.

Syllabicate and spell out for all to read
The horror of homelessness and apathy.

There.
Nothing's too real we can't fictionalize... marginalize,
Again, and again, and again.
wizmorrison Mar 28
Crowds are everywhere,
Busy transportation,
It's about to rain;
I'm still walking alone,
I don't have any idea
Where to go—
Raindrops started pouring,
What do I do now?
Where do I go?
My home is gone,
They leave me at six
What do I do in this busy street?
A short tale of a homeless kid in the street.
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