Car horns slice through the air,
congestion gathers on the roads
making murky smoky trails

There sits a man

whom bears heavy weight;
shrouded, in dark clothing and mystery
Bearded, diligent and wise

Alan is his name

A Scouser if I'd ever seen one,
always happy and yet never alarmed
by the noises and pollution around him

This, is his home

I see him everyday when I pass,
come rain or shine, hail or wind
He sits, diligently and acute
with a paper cup in hand

Living in the open city

He shows that life can be unpredictable,
yet freedom cannot be contained
We've chatted, him and I
He says the institutions can't keep him down

They're out for money and control

This is his freedom, his way of life
to do what whatever he pleases
Tent ready, trolly in possession
Without fear, without order
without rules

Not knowing what the next day may bring

When I have saved enough
I have this plan; this desire to help
Statistically speaking, there were 560, 000 + homeless people on the streets of America in 2019 alone
As we drive by them; they sit or stand, grimy, foul, and unclean
They hold posters or ask for our spare change so that they may survive
It breaks my heart, despite how infinitesimal it may already be
Every time
I see them, the rejects, the outcasts of society
I offer them a smile, and whatever it is I can
If they need food or a new blanket/ clothes or new shoes
I will stop whatever I am doing and help in whatever way I can because I am not in a rush
In our society today, it appears that we are in a hurry
Society does not stop
Society does not care
They see a smudge of dirt on a sidewalk another human being occupies
Because we have forgotten that they are, like us, people

We race against time as though every single second we hurry is another second we live
Rather than slowing down to truly cherish the seconds
The seconds that pass by us every moment
Think; if only for a moment, we are in the present
But now we are not
This now is already passing us by as you gaze upon this line
I would ask you to take a moment to reflect upon that line
But we are in a hurry; you probably wouldn’t

I could end this right there
And that would be my message
But it’s not my message
I often write and lose track of my message
The message that floats inside my head, knocking down books of knowledge and pictures of memories
My head is something I need to clean out
It’s getting full of random thoughts or questions I wish I had the answer to
Oh my, I’m sorry, I did it again
I got off-topic because my mind has no place to rest, it has no place to stay,
So it wanders and wanders, looking for its own place to lay its own head

We cannot sleep on the streets, in alleyways or rest on unused benches
Because we are scarred and filthy
And we have no hope
We have no hope that tomorrow will be any different
Because we have faced the reality of not having a home or a safety net to fall back on
As I bring this to an end, all I challenge is this;
Carry a case of water in your car or some loaves of bread or both
And when you see a homeless person, remember that they are a human being
And share with them water/bread/food
They need not money if you have; if you can help them in other ways
Do not rush by, but try to help
Ask yourself this: If I end up without a home, would I survive all on my own?

Sirens fill the empty canyons, heralds of a deadly spring,
while the images repeat and repeat and repeat across the screen.
Masked faces telling desperate stories of flooded hallways
and gasping hours, of fear, exhaustion, and despair,
of knocks on nursing home windows, of face-time deaths,
and worse, the prospect of triage roulette.

But outside, many fall silently, alone, as they lived,
remembered only by a neighbor’s tardy knock,
or atop the sidewalk grate, as they lived, and have now passed,
quietly, still forgotten, untallied in the daily count, to fill the trenches
of potter’s field that beckon the unclaimed, to be bagged and sheathed
and to soldier in neat rows, uncounted once last time.

I walked out into the Moonlight
Saw him looking back at me
Then I picked up and skipped a rock
Got in my boat heading to nowhere in sight

Then the wind blows harder, through the crashing waves
The sky begins to fade, could it really be the end

I woke up crashed at shore
Planted my feet down and felt the wind blow
May not have a boat left, but I can build a raft
Might not have an engine, but I goat an oar

And the wind stops, through the steady seas
The skies clear and the grass is green

As I reached the land, they ask of where I've been
I don't have the answer you want but I do have a story to tell
Just sit right there, I'll tell it to you, about what might have been

I woke up to the flashing lights
Took a trip down to the water
I dreamed a sailor's dream, then made my way back
To lay in the empty street on this dark and rainy city's night.

The air should be light.
Filled with joy, not fright,
On this cold winter night.
And for most, it is.
the difference between
them and me, you see,
Is that they are not prisoners
Of their minds. They are free.
I was sentenced to this life alone
Without a home to call my own,
After I served my country.
Oh, what a world I was shown.
Don't misunderstand. I had a good life.
I lived the American dream,
Complete with a house, a dog, a beautiful wife.
But once I signed up for another tour,
Her heart couldn't take it anymore.
She walked out the door.
When I came back, I was too embarrassed to ask for help.
So that's how I got here,
Feeling like I only have
myself to blame.
But even as I join my fellow outcasts,
Forgotten, and unloved,
I smile with pride
Knowing I was brave enough to play the game.

His name was Jim
He was a dandy
Her name was Kim
Trancendence candy
Held each other tight
Cherished is the night
Homeless, not loveless


© 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.