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SøułSurvivør Feb 2016
You put on your makeup
And your plastic face
Your big wide smile
And your social grace
You gaze out at your
Penthouse view
You're primed and ready
It's all about you
As you don your full length mink
You look in the mirror
And tip a wink
You're Gucci dressed
And designer shod

Don't you know beauty
is an inside job?

Downstairs waits your limousine
Goin' to Tavern on the Green
You meet your hubby
Do what's "right"
You'll meet your boy toy
Late tonight
You order dinner
Such style! Such class!
Only the best wine
For your glass
Your "friends" all love you
You hobnob

Don't you know beauty
is an inside job?

You exit the restaurant
To go to a show
Hottest ticket
Don't you know
Your hubby smiles
'Cuz you're on his arm
You're the classiest dame in town!

A homeless woman asks for a dime
You say get a watch to determine the time
You've given to charity
Such a snob

Don't you know beauty
is an inside job?

The beggar woman asks again
Your rich hubby starts to grin
"Gave at the office" He says with a laugh
You cut her off as she tries to pass
"Get a job" is what you say
She won't eat at ALL today...
She won't see a Broadway show
Heck! She has no place to go!
You smile smugly.
You hear her sob...

Don't you know beauty
is an inside job?

The beggar dies out in the cold
You're laid out, too, in a coffin of gold
She is comforted. You're bereft.
She goes to the right. You go to the left.
There's no respect of persons with God.

Because to Him BEAUTY IS AN INSIDE JOB.



SoulSurvivor
(C) 2013
Rewritten (c) 2/26/2016
It don't matter if you are a
Begger in Calcutta or the
QUEEN of ENGLAND.

GOD IS NO RESPECTER OF PERSONS!

-
Taylor Stardust Feb 2016
I visit this tree everyday
In my dreams.
I sit under it and
I contemplate all the complications of life.
I allow the autumn leaves to fall on me
While I think about how well we worked
How we were like stars colliding
How we floated above the earth
How you traced your finger
Down my spine
How you pulled a smile out of me
How you made me feel different.
But a storm has come
Ripping the tree from the ground
Only leaving the roots
Of what once was.

And now I'm without a home.
    
                 t.s.
Maple Mathers Feb 2016
You offered this "life"
     A "gift" - you ensured...
Then, whipped out that knife
     Your mousetrap: secured.

Lonely, and empty
     Existence: so grim
My world, in a casket
     That fits all but him.
(All poems original Copyright of Eva Denali Will © 2015, 2016)
Abdullah Ayyash Feb 2016
I pity all broken hearts
Filled with spears and darts
How could people be cruel
To hurt what's behind all arts

Homeless, is all that it is now
Living beside a waste bin
With no walls for warmth in winter
Not even a door to let you in

My heart wants to reach out
Asking you for a place to live
This can't be the end of life
There's still something called love
© Copyright
Abdullah Ayyash
February 6th, 2016
Pauline Morris Feb 2016
On a cold winter day you could of found him here
Standing on the corner of 44th and Vine holding out his cup to anyone that comes near

"Brother can you spare a dime"
Most rush by they don't have time
No time to care about their fellow human
"He'll spend it on alcohol" most that paid attention was assuming

But what he really wanted was just enough
That even though he was looking gruff
He could go into the dinner and buy a cup
Sit awail and simply warm up
Maybe even dream a bit
Of how his younger years where spent

For at one time he was a son, a brother
Long ago his siblings moved, and alone he had buried his mother
At one time he was a husband, a Dad
But they left him all alone they were all he had

The fall had been slow
Inch by inch he had slowly let go
Now he finds himself ***** and haggard
Knowing that nothing at all mattered

His face is weather worn and wrinkled, a permanent frown
A battered, worn thin sock cap is his crown

All he had in life was on his back to help keep out the cold
Of the frezzing December snow that bitterly did blow
By his side a little dog, his one and only companion
In that dogs eye's he was a champion

For any food he managed to scrounge
He always feed that mutt first, any thing he found
That's the way you would treat your best friend
He knew that wonderful dog would stay with him till the end

After hours of standing in the bitter wind he finally gave up
There was not even a penny, empty was his cup
No one had taken pity
He was bone tired and weary

So he simply faded into the darkness of the night
Crawled into his cardboard box pulled, up his tattered thin blanket, held his little dog tight
Snuggled close togeather the frezzing cold the two togeather tried to fight
The kind cop that always checked on him, found them both there in the morning light

The night time temperature had been to brutal
The *** and his dog's attempt to stay warm had been futile
The cop made sure they were buried togeather
So they would always have each other forever

They lay there in the paupers grave
To bad the human race was to busy to care, he was not a nobody, he could of been saved!!
Autumn Daze Jan 2016
With you I feel home
Now you're gone I am homeless
When will I be home?
© Cassandra Cereza
013116
Brent Kincaid Jan 2016
I sleep in my cardboard cottage
That is my current job.
I keep it neat and clean as I can
I am not a slob.
I have my own place staked out
Everyone knows it’s mine.
It keeps the wind off as I doze.
It isn’t perfect but it’s fine.
Part of my job these days is easy;
I set out a cup and sing.
It doesn’t make me a million
But it is something.

When the weather warrants it
I sleep in the park
In the bright warm sunshine;
Stay awake in the dark.
It seems the citizens and cops
All leave me alone
Even though they still talk to me
With condescending tone,
Tsking at my laziness in general
Give the charity buck
Or maybe a quarter when they see
Since I’m down on my luck.

There’s this guy Hay Soose
But he spells it Jesus.
He could spell it that way
If he so pleases
But that don’t keep him dry
Whenever it rains
And it doesn’t stave most of the
Deep arthritic pains
From sleeping under cardboard
As his only roof.
Watch him shiver in winter if
You want some proof.

People have gotten to know me
As I’m here every day.
Some of the even come by with
Nice words to say.
And, I am used to the noise here;
The horns and the noise
Of the workaday world of these folks;
These grownup girls and boys.
Some tell me to go find some work,
I don’t get mad and shout.
I understand they have some hostilities
They have yet to work out.

Some of my neighbors here in cardboard
Dwell here because they
Can’t seem to work life out for themselves
In any other way.
People fire them from any employment
Because they act weird.
Some refuse to bathe or maybe it is
They refuse to cut their beard.
As for me I have had enough of it all;
The rattle and the hum.
I know society has a lot to offer but
I already had some.
Pearson Bolt Jan 2016
the rain fell so i kept my head down
chance alone piqued my interest and
through water-logged glasses i saw
him sitting on the front steps of an
old Lutheran church built from stone
in 1886 if the proud sign on the front
lawn was to be believed

the oak doors were chained shut

it's been four years since i asked myself
what would Jesus do
instead i wondered
what she'd do in my shoes
so i offered him my last slice
of Karma Kollision and he said
god bless you and i replied
stay warm
this world is cold

placebos like religion
might work miracles for Atlanta's
rich white mannequins
but sugar pills can't fill
a broken man's empty stomach
Alan S Bailey Jan 2016
I found him, my saint and savior,
Sitting at his leisure sipping tea,
Trimmed green in the background
With his own private backyard pool.
Cable, golf the whole thing on TV,
Chatting with friends about the
Trends in Hollywood, the PG rated
Movie that sold so well because
The mass public could "indulge,"
*Instead of looking outside at the
Grey tattered jacket and windbreaker,
Tethered against a rainy post in the cold.
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