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SøułSurvivør Jan 2016
~~~<○>~~~

stained
glass
Jesus
looks
down
upon
the
modern
congregati­on

light

weeps

through



SoulSurvivor
*(repost)
this Sunday morning
a homeless woman
walked by as
the people were
getting out of their
brand new SUVs
on their way to church

no one seems to care anymore
something wrong with this picture

~~~<○>~~~
Nick Strong Dec 2015
Shop lights sparkle, dance
Making pretty patterns
in the winter twilight
Small change in a plastic cup,
Never shaken, just held,
By cracked nail adorned fingers
***** and blue from cold
Unnoticed a body perched
Silently upon a ***** blue
Carefully folded sleeping bag
Old worn grey coat
Wrapped tightly round
Thin drooped shoulders
Dull spark less eyes
Look out at a world
That rushes on by
Carrying boxes, paper bags
Of material purchases
To make the warm giggle
With delight come Christmas morn
Too busy, too fast to see
The plastic cup held steady
Enough for a cup of tea is all
That’s ever needed,
To reach Christmas morn
Elizabeth Hynes Dec 2015
Houses for the priests
Houses for the wives
Houses for the chiefs
Houses can save lives
Yet there are those
Who sit on the streets
Following their nose
Drumming daily beats
Why are they there?
How can they survive?
All the houses are bare
Just let them inside.
Nigel Finn Dec 2015
Last night I sat down in the street
And played a game of chess
With a homeless man I chanced to meet
Near my old Cambridge address,
And thoughts of victory or defeat
Mattered little (perhaps less).

The only thing I cared to gain
Was this mans company,
And I found it quite hard to contain
That it meant the world to me.
(Was it silly of me to refrain,
Since it filled my heart with glee?)

I won the game and thanked the man,
But as I walked away
I knew I didn't have a plan,
And felt the urge to stay,
But the next game had just began-
"Hello sir! Want to play?"

I wandered aimless through the night
Not feeling quite the same.
I cried, as though I thought it might
Help wash away the shame,
Untill a voice helped ease my plight;
"Would you like another game?"

A gallant knight he seemed that night;
A castle until dawn.
Whilst bishops hold religion tight
To tell us right from wrong,
And kings and queens provoke the fight
The pawn protects the pawn.
Based on a real experience, which is far too long to give the appropiate reverence to in note form.
PaperclipPoems Dec 2015
He walks with himself
He is his own best company.
He pushes forward and you often do not notice
You ignore his plead but you see him wander
A breathing tumble ****.
Shrubbish, wobbly, and *****
He zig zags through the crowd
Sometimes he screams and he too cries
Just like you
Sometimes he trembles in the night
Just like you
Sometimes he dreams of better days
Just like you.
A brief and scattered poem about a homeless man I encountered.
luv Dec 2015
i awake blanketed by the morning sun and
the celestial frost that lingers on from
the night. the sound of laughter jolts me.

i watch the couple walk leisurely along
the side of the traintracks. "Hi!" the
woman says behind stale eyes and
wispy blonde curls. she stiffles her
laughter until it bellows out like
a warrior cry.

i can hear the harshness
in the words she speaks of me to
her lover, they grow more distant
as they escape my view.

i can smell the sweat of the lost
souls who found themselves here
before me.


i can taste the saltiness of the tears
that slide down the contours of my
face; an emotionless, knee-****
reaction.

however, i feel
nothing. there
is no despair
left in me. no
more hatred.
not even
sadness.

i feel only
the bitter
cold of the
concrete bridge
beneath
the weight
of my resting
body.

i feel only
the hunger
that aches
in the core
of my being.

i feel only
the rattling
of the train cars
passing , only
the rumbling of
the morning traffic
on the highway above
all of which
are lulling me back
to sleep
Pearson Bolt Dec 2015
frigid homeless shivering
on Bank of America’s
front porch step  

propped up by
oligarchic investors and
solipsistic one-percenters

and we pass by
in apathetic
self-absorption

we are brainless
enraptured  by smartphones
while the State bombs
our neighbors

mutilating children
sowing seeds of terror
with every abuse of power

we convince ourselves
that there's an afterlife
and raze Earth
as we raise hell

the only home
we’re guaranteed
infinite growth in
a finite world
consuming joylessly

inculcated
inane and
vain beyond
all measure

we’ve ravaged the planet
we will all die

alone
As I walked through the streets of Orlando on the way back to my car after a show, I saw a homeless man sprawled out beneath the awning of a Bank of America. This poem is dedicated to him.
shooshu Dec 2015
Trying to breathe,
TRYING TO BREATHE
into the woods.
An old woman
in a furry hat
& I,
laughing together
still somewhat
lifelike.
Ever too proud
to play
boomerang
or go fetch
for change
FOR CHANGE
we live out
of bags.
Exactly where
we're meant to be
& 'how you say?'
...all that jazz."
--shoo.shu #doubleentendres #poetry #spilledink #inthenow #inthemoment #underdog #homeless #boho #bohemian #wanderlust #gypsy #nomad
PoorLionNotKing Nov 2015
They're looking for their daily bread
searching like they're the walking dead
just fighting for a chance to get ahead.

You want change, but you're afraid to part
with all the junk that seems like art
guess that comes when you trust your heart.

We never walk the streets at night
scared to death to do what's right
while proclaiming to proclaim a star so bright.

Trying to live life without a prize
maybe one day I won't be paralyzed
not to be famous, but perhaps to be wise.
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