For a homeless man
we are nothing but
a walking spare change.

The corner story-yeller
held her eye to eye
and told her with a cry
"If it's worth telling,
then it's worth yelling

and if it's worth yelling,
then it's worth having
a listen.
So listen, why don't yer!
This is the moral of life:

If yer don't look after yer feet
then yer feet won't look after yoo."

And with a throaty 'harumph'
the story-yeller limped away
dismissing her audience
with a spit and a sigh
ready to launch
at the next passerby.

London has colour. And noise on each street corner.
Jessica Lima Jan 10

Eyes closed,
Hugging my knees,
Ignoring the cold,
And wishing for bliss.

A lonely girl
With nowhere to go,
Hoping and praying,
For love once more.

That's my story,
Each and every day,
But I'm only a stranger,
So you just walk away.

Sometimes I wonder...
"What's wrong with me?
Why can't anyone,
Notice that I am here?"

Then I lay back down
concrete against my back
A reminder from God:
At least I'm not dead.

Unlike many of you
I am fully, truly alive
I have nothing to lose
I'm not drowning in pride.

Peter Balkus Dec 2017

Are you scared of me? I don't bite -
said a homeless guy, when I passed him by.

You bite - I thought - with your toothless teeth,
you sting, your sting filled with a poisonous misery,
you dag with your disappointed face
that people are not one -
the face of mine.

You kill
with the power of lost dignity,
of king robbed by servants,
of a man,
stripped to the nude by the government.

I don't approach you not because I detest you
or I don't want to see you or help.
I don't approach you
for I don't want to look
in the mirror of my worse self.

Nathan A Brock Dec 2017

The same faces every day
Often new ones too
Clothes dirty and riddled with holes
A foul smell about them

They ask for the time
I say no
Tho I do have the time
They ask for spare change
I say no
Tho sometimes I have change
They ask for a cigarette
I say no
Tho often I have had to ask others

Sometimes I am ashamed
At how easily I forget
That I was homeless too

I mostly wrote this to check myself
Pio Jasso Dec 2017

You found
me, al-
most a corpse,
bound
to a warped,
black tarred
alchemy
turned
coal hard.

An angel’s
face,
a ghost,
a sharp belt,
a spoon
dissolved and cooked
in the mainline
fire,
haunting the core.

Squatting
in
bodegas, sleeping
less,
more possessed,
more abandoned,
and more
refused,

I prowled
the alleys,
shivering
in the shadows,
soaked in cold blood doom.

Night
of barking
dogs, night
of incited cries
how the

movement
of your unmoving
mirror grows
silent and blind
- a blind witness,
removed from

the slash,
the apparitions,
the cracked
veins
opened wide, cleaved
with the scalpel
of bladed streets.

Even I
knew to pluck,
with these,
work-eaten,
hands these eyes
resisting,

these eyes
insisting
upon
a voluntary
blindness of identity

that’s shifting
and shifting
and teeming
low like seven thousand
scorpions, stinging
my black iris.

You found
me down
a cardboard cave
above
a beer-stained sidewalk,

hiding
from lancing lights
flashing, probing lights, leering
lights, lights burning my skin.

You found me,
you - the falcon, the storm,
the wind, sent
to release me from this secretly,
chewed inferno,

sent to release
the quick,
beating wings
of a million bleeding
hummingbirds
hungry
to consume
this dark, foul nectar.

FINAL VERSION

I have straddled the fence all my life
That I might be so fortunate
As to slip off the right side
I would be contented
To be homeless in Heaven
For I have no need
Of mansions or gold
No need of riches untold
I shall sleep in fields
And count the endless stars
I shall quench my thirst by a stream
I shall walk the countryside
And wonder at its beauty
And though I shall only
See Jesus at a distance
My heart shall find warmth still
To be homeless in Heaven
And want for nothing forever more

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