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The homeless why do they have to freeze out there on the cold streets?
Why do they need to starve ? Why isn't there more organizes out to help them? The government and others are spending money on things that don't need to be done every human life is important well to me. People turn their backs on them way too quick to judge as well. Don't they know they have feelings too? They hurt and struggle who knows what their stories are. Instead of judging take some time to help or just to listen. How do I know how they feel once upon a time I was homeless for a long time.
Some of the experiences I went through while I was  homeless in Boston and Quincy Massachusetts
At the end of the day I can't think of a better place.
A solemn moment.
The clutter of all my favorite things.
I lay uneducated, amassed in comfort.
In lieu of scented furniture.
She's with me where ever I go.

A populous of
Things which I notice, not being home in a while.
Conscious to where I lay my head.
A notion only the homeless truly understand.

A nostalgia of born necessity.
I am ignorant.
Realizing only now.
I needed not wait to feel,
The clutter of all my favorite things.
Amy Perry Oct 3
Scraggly,
In face and heart
Staggering
By the harbor,
A celebratory place
For families to flock
And sight-see the city
By the ships and the docks.
While the sea gulls fight
Over scrimpy scraps,
A lone man traverses,
Seized by mind traps.
Disoriented by the shadows
Of his past,
Taunting and tampering
With his freedom, at last,
He's broken his vow of silence
He promised he could pass.
Reality so far removed
From his ruminations.
Passerby's passively wonder
What attracted him to the concrete.
Overactive imagination
Is an answer I'd repeat.
Occasionally another may marvel,
Where is his family?
Waiting in vain,
In the background,
In the rain,
Devoid of way to entertain
The possibility to take the reigns
Away from his deceptive beast
That guides his woeful way,
Fighting for fistfuls of his feast -
A price he has to pay
For having an untreated illness.
Now I have no say
In pillows or cement.
He chose the latter.
Now all I can do is feel lament.
If you see my father,
You may see kindness in his eyes,
A mind that's rapidly firing,
Comforting words to himself he's ironing.
If you see my father -
You may see him time and again,
You may see him in the sea gull,
Harmlessly scavenging,
Heartily conversing,
Heartbreakingly existing -
If you see my father,
Let him exist
However he chooses.
I have no choice
But to do the same.
abp 10/02/18
sunprincess Sep 28
Occasionally they’re sleeping at a friend’s house
Next night, sleeping in a box with a mouse

Homelessness in America hasn’t gone away
I’ve seen them on the east coast sleeping in cars
In Honolulu sleeping in the park
And in the great state of Texas sleeping on a sidewalk
And luckily they weren’t outlined with some crime scene chalk

Have you seen them lost, hopeless, and forlorn?
Seems society offers them nothing but scorn

Have you ever noticed they look the opposite way
While driving their shiny new Escalade
“Yes” they say, “Let the homeless sleep their life away”
Why is there an imbalance in society
Why is there homelessness in this land of plenty
Is this because so many are greedy?
elle Sep 26
there was at least pride in trial and error
in walking two miles in the sun just to retrace each step
in asking for help
in working for something, sleeping for something, standing up for something

when it landed in my hands
I nearly dropped it on the pavement

my feet had been hardened by each surface we’d come to cross
my eyes by each travesty
unique in their tragedy
my pockets empty
the load still heavy on my shoulders
but you held me like a dish rag in the reception of a fancy hotel

there’s a poise I don’t possess
and I can’t hold on to this
it is not real enough


so I’m giving it away again
GraciexJones Sep 19
Day after day her sanity peels away,
Living to fight another day,
Her hunger stirs inside once more,
Murky shirt is hanging loose,
Her face and hair covered in grime and dirt,
Clothes ripped and worn,
Her skin is withered and torn,
Physically craving meal,
Weighing 10 Stones lighter,
Sockless and penniless,

Time keeps slipping away,
Feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders,
She lays there on the hard concrete floor,
Feeling scared and alone
Looking over her shoulder,
Terrible fears plague her,
In this place she calls her home town,

Strangers walk by gawking,  
Analysing her vulnerability,
Criticizing her capability,
Paralyzed by her identity,

Stability is what she is hoping for,
A facility that puts bread on the table,
But the system shuns her away once more,
She grasps onto her faith in fear it will start to crumble,
A sense of purpose to stay alive

She sees a familiar man standing by her side,
He offer’s his hand with a welcoming promise and smiles with a high-spirited expression,
A sense of warmth and belonging races through her body,
She traces his wrinkles on his face,
His eyes are hazel-nut brown,
His hair and beard is frosty white,
She recognizes his smell from when she was a child,
A scent of incense and lavender,



He gently rests her cheek in his hands,
Sadness fills up in his eyes,
He glimpses into her shattered soul,
The grief which had burnt a hole,
The anguish deep inside,
Tears trickle down his face,
There a stands a man of her heart
Homeless victim in Brighton street
Rafael Torres Sep 17
Homeless
Broken
On a spare tire
Under the red-line
In the mind... just fine...
Grimy
Gritty
Trying not to feel shitty...
Out of clean clothes
Job searching in the city...
Friends down to zero
My journal number one...
Go for a walk
Is the only source of "fun"...
Cans here
Bottles there
Find them under lost despair
Solitude
And gratitude
Both have come from where?...
Life is great...
Say it loud
All alone within a crowd
Its just been so long
For a chance to breath
Find some shade beneath the trees
Watch the leaves
Fall before my feet
Then blow away
Caught within the wind...
Cannot
Will not
Accept defeat...
New things will begin...
Life is great...
Living the dream...
Pain floats away like steam...
Eyes have closed
Its time to rest
Dream to live again...
All is well
Inside of hell...
Relief...
Well meet again... my friend... as well...
Written Sept. 17. 2018. 10:00 AM Monday
The midnight air is filled with
fetid sewage
the city block houses
yards of gravel and broken bricks
decorated streets of graffiti and vomit
roaches skitter across sidewalks

A homeless woman sleeps on the sidewalk
a hundred yards away from the lofts
where I am safe

And I think where did it go wrong?

You lie here every night
with a casted foot and crutches
covered with the remains of a blanket
wondering where the next meal hides

Do you beg or play the raccoon?

This city never slows
sirens howl to the light polluted sky
constantly
like a coyotes staccato bark

Cranes reach toward the heavens
with a question to ask God

Can we build to your home and charge a fee to view the gates?

The nightclub below full of drunks
or to be drunks,
bellowing for attention
before riding home with a stranger
and waking up to another mistake
of empty emotions

With a hunger for acceptance
one will venture out
with one of questionable honesty
if the drugs are cheap

And here I am
walking the dirty streets
at one in the morning
in this menagerie of a city
because I can’t

Sleep

absorbing the sights and the smell
of sick and disgust
but in the morning all will be

Different

The sun will hide the dark
the sky will add color
the homeless will be camouflaged
with the busy crowd
buildings will look alive
bustling with people
the crane will be building
looking for an answer

And I still will not be able to

Sleep.

Fuck this filthy city.

And yet, I wouldn’t call any other place home.
Arthur Vaso Aug 30
no legs
no heart
bombs like raindrops
have nothing
not even
a tear

what do I have?
two dollars
is cold
coffee feels right
you block me?
why?

I lost me
for you
collectively
cannot you remember?

you hit me
I fall to the ground
silly man
I could kill you
with one finger

I lost legs
you lost compassion
who begs more?
honestly
as I bleed
there dances
one small
tear
for you
When I see society treat the homeless and destitute so bad, it just makes me feel sad, especially knowing some are war vets. And they cant eat poems, which is why I try to give them smiles and food.
Amy Perry Aug 26
I watch him slowly deteriorate.
The first man I ever loved
Is being brought down,
Like a torrid helicopter
Caught in a hailstorm.
How much he must struggle
Against the current,
Only to be swept into unsightly circumstances,
Into a misfortunate gravity
He brings upon himself.
Homelessness, his vice,
And all I can do to help him
Is not worry so much
About all his suffering and whirlwind adventures
That make so little sense.
The delusions, the psychosis,
The wretched, wonderful mania,
It’s all so much for one person to contain,
And all I can do is watch
Him deteriorate
Before my eyes.
The first man I ever loved,
Fearful of none,
How terrible must be the parts of him
I cannot see
For his actions to be
So extreme.
abp 08/26/18
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