#beggars
The promised city
for beggars: there are no roads --
leading there at all.
Aug 27, 2025
Aug 27, 2025 at 4:14 AM UTC
two beggars on street
asking for dollars and change
tapping on cell phones
Aug 30, 2021
Aug 30, 2021 at 11:25 PM UTC
Practiced pain and misery memorised
A shawl swirling round but nothing is covered
—nothing safe
Little woman—
Why do you roam so free on these greasy roads
People—
people are everywhere, don’t you see?
Do you not know how easy a shell is broken
—how swiftly the pearl is stollen
Little woman— little woman
Where do you hide your crystal wings—
Did you sell them for some loaves of breads?
Don’t assure.
Your eyes bear no tragic fruit and
I wish they did— Lord, how I wish so!
Anything but this casualty
Placidity—
Have they long forgotten
the sky-high castles they were robbed from?
All those moon-struck crowns—
Don’t, don’t assure!
Don’t spread out that hand
Don’t show me that tight stomach
I beg you don’t show them that
stomach—waiting to be filled—
Where in the hell do you sleep?
Don’t you have a door to lock?
Don’t assure—
You priceless, prince-less little woman
Why do you roam so free on these greasy roads
Why do you beg? Why do you—
I wonder why I ask— I with my flowers and bees
wonder what I even know—
Jan 30, 2021
Jan 30, 2021 at 9:42 PM UTC
Shrewd enough to pick a purse
To feed a mouth sheltered under a rain of curse.
Empty bottles and opponent as partners
The fruit of a faint love
Now mine to pick.
Sleep and wake to the sour taste of poverty
Cure in the heart of men that walk the street
Too good to smile at the tartered shirt
Too quick to point our direction
Too heavy a baggage to carry
Too light the burden I offload
Ran back to my sheltered nest
Broken bottles and a red eyed woman
From whence I came
To this world of pain
Opponents as partners
The tattered shelter nature spared us
A smile on the little ones
My motivation to attract a pointing finger
My tatttered shelter - Opponents as partners.
Jun 27, 2020
Jun 27, 2020 at 4:45 AM UTC
We’re hungry
But we lacking
We can’t even dare ask
Cos for us all, eating food is really an heinous task
Their moving out in their cars
While we, in here we are, hiding in our infectious scars
I wanna go out of here to there
But what about these ones I’ve got as friends
It’s really irking
But can I be in such a hurry?
If I have the brain to leave!
How will my younger ones live?
If I have the power to go and beg!
What about those in here, living without legs?
But then, we’re hungry
And we’ve got no one sending us daily meals
Seems I just have to make a run for it
And beg a few things for human being to eat
We all don’t have a choice but to live our time this way
For we are children of those who didn’t make good use of their young days.
©Emmiasky Ojex
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 7:32 AM UTC
Have you seen
those souls
enveloped in grief,
enclosed in shells
of humans
just as poor?
Sitting by the road
begging
for alms -
more than that
for compassion
and love.
When they spread
their feeble hands
in front of you,
just look
into
their eyes.
You will see
all the pain
the neglect
and torture
that they have been going through.
Your heart will melt
with pity.
Even in extremities,
they come up to us
asking for
means
to continue
their struggle
in those hard times.
They hope that
the one they approach
will hear their soul's cry
and be kind enough
to give them a reason to smile.
We we act indifferent
or turn them down
they just shatter inside
oh! these souls
so disturbed
and traumatized -
but knowing
the harsh world around,
they gather
whatever hope is left in them
and begin
their search again
for a generous soul.
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 3:42 AM UTC
Beggars, I am
asking for clarity
inside our life journeys
from spirits guidance.
Mendicant I am
toward Source taking steps
to feel my inner self.
To release tattered veil of forgetting
so I know who I am.
Beggars, I am toward Sprits guiding voice
trying to grab hold of innocence
to ride waves of love
inside grace.
Beggars, yes Beggars
we all are divine and sacred,
possessing magical sparks within.
And once aligned in heart,
highway opens with no roadblocks.
Just endless possibilities to roam free
in world of grand realities.
Nov 30, 2017
Nov 30, 2017 at 4:05 PM UTC
I know why God is there
When nights blow cool wind
Onto the stringy hair of paupers
And on streetlights along purple roads.
When eyes are dimly lit
By the moonlight’s grace
Under a sky full of magnetic tears,
There is God, and he’s there
To deal out soap bars
And washcloths
To ***** cheeks
So that, for once, dust can go
Back to dust
Without leaving behind bodies
For wolves to feed on.
I know why God is there
When the hungry lie down to die,
When the restless beg for sleep,
When murderers beg for forgiveness,
When beggars dip their hands
Into pools of holy water
On sidewalks of sleepless cities.
I know why God is there,
And the reason is at the end of a long rope
Hidden somewhere deep underground,
Dangling above the fountains of prayers.
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 12:36 PM UTC
Poverty,
a dagger of thousands years,
shedding endlessly,the blood of beggars...
Striving,
suffering,
crying,
begging,
Indeed,ready they,who you call Paupers,are to do anything,
only to earn a living...
On the edge of knives,
poor ones lives their daily lives...
The children,all set to walk towards education,
but hunger hinders their concentration...
Still they are ready to do anything,
only to earn a living...
Starvation and Malnutrition are mere words,
compared to what they are really enduring...
Like us, they have wishes,
simple desires,
wants to have:
Proper water to drink,
Proper food to eat,
proper place to live...
God we are not,but their small desires,we can satisfy..
Their fate,we can change,
as their happiness,is still within range..
Together let's save the poor ones,
because a simple act of caring can create an endless ripple...
-Sharvish
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 1:06 PM UTC
there are people i've forgotten
some for better, some for worse
in places i have been along the way
some were good and some were rotten
some sow's ears and some silk purse
there are many that i think of every day
Take the time, give everyone a chance
Take a stranger, and treat them like a friend
Life is nothing more than a big dance
And you just don't know when the music's gonna end
i've had meals with lowly beggars
I've sat down with queens and kings
Life's funny ...if i really had to say
that the people i remember
of all my time here on this earth
are the sow's ears,
and the beggars come what may
Take the time, give everyone a chance
Take a stranger, and treat them like a friend
Life is nothing more than a big dance
And you just don't know when the music's gonna end
some have angels on their shoulders
some have devil's in their heart
but, you will not know, until you let them in
but of the people i've forgotten
and those kept close in my heart
the best ones never care what might have been
Take the time, give everyone a chance
Take a stranger, and treat them like a friend
Life is nothing more than a big dance
And you just don't know when the music's gonna end
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 8:43 PM UTC
Wandering around
Nowhere to go
Nothing to hide
Empty
No one wants to help
Think I'm gonna hurt them
But, they are so wrong
Just searching for acceptance
And a place to sleep
A warm place
With a soft, comfy bed
And maybe a pillow or two
No one wants to help
Think I'm gonna hurt them
But, they are so wrong
Just searching for acceptance
And some food to eat
Preferably some home-cooked
But, I quote:
"Beggars can't be choosers"
No one wants to help
Think I'm gonna hurt them
But, they are so wrong
Just searching for acceptance
Maybe a bit of money
No, I'm not gonna buy *****
And no, I don't smoke
Just want to get to a long lost relative
But
They think I've got some hidden agenda
To **** them daughter
Or suddenly pull out a gun
Maybe run away with stolen goods
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 5:12 PM UTC
It felt as though the humidity itself
carried a hint of liquor as we walked
out into the night, wanting only to escape
our lives for a little.
Deep down in Vieux Carre
twisted brass clashed with a piano
running half step from the crowded clubs
on Frenchman Street.
We filled our lungs with the city
and found her to be like certain kinds
of dangerous doses--
intoxicating.
It was our second night
and the more we drank
the more I began to see glimpses
of the specters spoken of by locals.
They linger in my peripheral,
watching me with their sunken eyes.
You could faintly hear them moan,
only in defeated tones
and their collective scowl danced
in the heavy air of summer
as though it were a part from
all that jazz.
In the stranger hours of morn
I was approached by a ghost
a few blocks off Bourbon.
He offered up nothing but his ***** palms
in hopes of some false salvation.
I wrestled a dollar from my pocket
and passed it on to him,
only to watch him fruitlessly grasp at it
before it slide through his ghostly hands
to the floor below.
He looked down at the dollar
all helpless-like and he said
"It’s been slipping through my fingers
like dat for years now
and ain't nobody help’n me."
I walked from him, realizing then
why I had needed this trip,
I needed to remember all the love in my life
because the only difference between
me and the ghosts of N'awlins
was someone cared about me,
and I cared enough about them
not to destroy myself.
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 2:06 PM UTC
Bitter shouting remedies
Wailing in the streets
Beggars wanting more than just
The crumbs off royal seats
Fancy ******* lunatics
Brainwashing people like twits
So ******* what
If I'm female
And want to ***** her ****
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 6:25 AM UTC
Whenever I travelled
I saw men living from empty cups
Their life on their knees
Must have hurt
They were given a family
They once must have thought that they would stand
And command the crowds
But they pled to them instead
I saw only once
A woman before an empty cup
Head bowed and belly empty
Call me sexist, but
She was the subject of my charity
It seems to me
The streets are full of those
Who grew to hate life
But she had the potential
To make two lost souls from one
Call me sexist, but
I wanted to raise her from the streets
Lest she raise another
Child of the lamplight
From an empty cup
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 7:36 AM UTC
Crude-fashioned like grandma's cookies
from Gold member's lips are best put down,
kisses that are mighty sound
ignored like day and assigned as ignorance.
Although the beggar dreams of the Old Design,
pangs of the new stupidity can’t subdue
a crown (of thorns perhaps, or stick and stones).
But protest words?
that are abound...
That cool dominion summons
but a few to service. Effective prose will act
and do no less
upon the herds as great solutions.
Moxie can isolate the owner's
my way or the highway, let's be friends
mentality with a beyond itself right-of-place.
Vote against this bruising insanity.
Just in case.
Debbie Brooks 2014
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 12:50 AM UTC
There's something like that.
It does exist, doesn't it?
Poverty, is earning less than ₹ 47 a day.
That's less than a dollar a day.
Who earns less than a dollar a day?
Beggars in Manhattan make more than that.
There is no poverty.
There's nothing like that.
Wait a minute: beggars in Manhattan?
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 4:50 PM UTC
*She came and she went.
Like all others did...
With a smile so beautiful and deep.
A God's child she was,
Gleaming with joy and beauty.
Sparkling eyes and tousled hair,
A girl of eleven or twelve...
Touched the heart so beautifully.
I stared at her and felt my smile return.
She peeped into my car window
And looked deep into my eyes.
She made me see through her,
An innocent face and naughty eyes.
I tossed a coin at her and she returned a smile.
I gazed at her for a moment and watched her say goodbye.
Then she ran along with her playmates...
Lighting every corner of the streets.
I smiled at her dissapearing figure as long as I could....
But soon the road was left far behind.
My mind kept wondering....
Will she always be the girl of the street?
Will she too follow her destiny alone?
Then I became busy...
And left the girl behind again...
Afterall who cares for a girl of the street....*
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 9:04 PM UTC