#hobo
I filled my pockets with black berries
And my arms with junk that summer
I miss sleepy chris
And amanda with all the bracelets
Tattoo of a pentagram
Eyes black like obsidian
…you know maybe it was a good thing we got separated from them
Its hard to play craps with people who don't shoot the ****
And when the **** has been shot its best not to gamble on who your hangin with
Colorado will be a new start
No drama
Just nature and machine
5h ago
Jun 3, 2026 at 8:47 PM UTC
Are you hiring?
Back Ground Check?
Before I apply can you give me a clue?
If I was once bad am I certainly *******
Questionable military discharge?
Jail and prison and more,
But after all, I just need a job in one of you many
profitable stores!
Yes I once sold drugs
and yet I was never a ****
I applied for a simple job at Dollar General and all a sudden I’m on trial.
I guess that’s why
I haven’t had a job in a while.
Nov 2, 2025
Nov 2, 2025 at 8:12 PM UTC
As I have found myself here again while looking for God
how strange I had to of step
be one there have my fall considered out of a pocket
what seemed well until it
looked as of me that left of
mine to be: I am asking God
what is there now to be
except nights the forests of
steps done below zero by fieldwalks be too cold to sleep
by wind kept of reminded
to be looking for myself.
Jan 4, 2025
Jan 4, 2025 at 11:34 AM UTC
Think of the *****
The hobo,
The Great American Travlin' Man,
Seeing the sights,
The great spans of this weird and wonderful county,
Taking in places that will never be seen by you or me.
We look down upon them,
Or with indifference,
Content with our homes, cars, and jobs,
But consider this you,
With these things would we really be considered free?
Chained by loans,
By the banks,
By a mortgage or three?
Who's more at liberty,
Us or the ***** travlin' the street?
May 20, 2023
May 20, 2023 at 12:50 AM UTC
A lost hungry vagrant
on a train to nowhere
everywhere's his home
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII🚂IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
on a patch of hay
in the heat of day
he doesn't bother to get
on his knees and pray
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII🚂IIIIIIIII
everything he wants
is in his sweat and blood
the shirt on his back
and his matter of fact
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII🚂IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
no one can touch his
solitary freedom
even when burdened with chains
and in heavy rains
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII🚂IIIIIIIIIIIIII
he flies through time
known by himself
on a patch of hay
III🚂IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
in an empty, lonely cart
on a train to nowhere
wandering the face of the earth
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII🚂IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
yearning for Starlight💫
Aug 11, 2020
Aug 11, 2020 at 1:45 PM UTC
“And I will search the f*cking depths of this
Stupid place my kids will have to live
In order just to smile a little bit
But you know
I'm thoroughly in love with you
And yeah, I'm really scared that I may never change
But I'm so f*cking done being so afraid
I really hope that you find happiness”
“At best, stay the same, so you'll be f*cking world-renowned
While I'm getting drunk at my house”
“So I will sit and I will drink myself to either to sleep or my untimely death
Either way, I hope that you don't cry, you know
That's just a part of life”
“Because there's something that's inside my head
That will click and make me drink until I'm dead
So I will sit and I will think about this life
And if I even like it”
Happiness by Hobo Johnson is a really deep feeling
Hits a little too close to home
And I’ll have to spend time healing
Because emptiness is growing
And I start to feel something is showing
Like the little signs inside my brain are telling me to do it
My genetic structure is fulfilling its purpose
And I start to feel worthless
And all I do is heartless
Now I start to hurt us
And you think it isn't worth it
But I promise I’m just hurting
And I’ll get over forests
And I will be a burden
But that's ok
You know? It all fades away
Until I'm nothing right?
And everyone starts laughing at me
You know I'm right
I paid my price
The worst is yet to come
And everyone is stunned to see I made it
Because those nights got really dark
And I played it
Right, but I don't have the cards
Success, correct? They all think I'm happy.
Mar 6, 2020
Mar 6, 2020 at 9:22 AM UTC
My life may be a train wreck
I drink hard to hide the pain
Even though I am a train wreck
I'm still the driver of this train
Haven't been derailed as yet
But, I've almost left the track
Even though I am a train wreck
I keep on coming back
I've spent some time in lock up
Just in county for a night
For being drunk in public
And a few times for a fight
My life is heading nowhere
But I'm making **** good time
My life is just a train wreck
Brother, spare a dime
The rabbit hole is calling
Do I venture down to see?
Do I listen to the voices?
Even if the voice is me
I'm a train wreck set to happen
I went to church once to confess
I passed out while I was waiting
Even sober, I'm a mess
I won't go into details
About the mistakes I have made
Let's say in life's account book
I didn't make the grade
My life it is a train wreck
One day I'll leave the rails
It's a 50 50 bet though
I chose heads and I get tails
One more drink tonight though
Then some shelter from the storm
I'll find a dumpster somewhere
One that's full so I keep warm
My name it's not important
You won't remember, so don't ask
I can see the whole way through you
There are cracks there in your mask
Let me live in silence
Let me die the same way too
My life it is a train wreck
And there's no room here for two
Dec 26, 2019
Dec 26, 2019 at 8:33 PM UTC
i am a word hobo
caravanning
inside a journey
filled with inspirational scenes.
W
O
R
D
S
gathers that I scoop up
and place in backpack
of mind.
My walking stick pen balances me,
as focused inside steps ground.
IF it rains emotions flow
IF it's sunny birds GRACE ears
making phases into songs.
When I arrive a-top of mountain
and plant flag
it means poem is done.
I am a word hobo
and I wouldn't have it
aNY OTHER WAY.
Jun 12, 2019
Jun 12, 2019 at 6:06 AM UTC
Hell, I'd run out on the street and hug a hobo
Just because it feels so good to not be flying solo
Low-key hopeless caught in action movie slow-mo
Heart racing, escalating my chest about to blow though
Tick tick kaboom, you made me more room
Rather than remove my mind roughly you made it real smooth
Laying awake til four only thinking of you
And all the things between us that i wanna pursue
Or kick-start or keep going,
These words wantonly flowing
I'm just saying what I'm thinking blindfolded i know it's glowing
The light around the edges telling me what i see
And what i see is my Queen amidst all of her beauty
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 5:51 AM UTC
As the snowflakes start falling
I am left cold, and wanting.
Carols, like thick smoke, fill the air
Serenading people who didn't see me there.
Boney hands outstretched like a leafless tree
There are some things people don’t wish to see
Alms, alms, just for one hot meal,
Alms for Christmas, don’t make me steal.
Alms, for cocoa with peppermint and cream
Alms for kindness, for a childhood dream.
But my hands remained empty, catching only snow
The wool clad shoppers bustling past, rush rush, two days to go.
They pay me no heed for I am ragged, unsightly
They don’t want to ***** their conscience, for it shines so brightly.
The streets, eerily quiet on this cold winter morning.
Empty, not a soul in sight, not a caroler performing.
Frost laden windows reveal a world now beyond my grasp,
In tired eyes tears well as I'm visited by Christmas’ past.
A snowcapped landscape fills my thoughts
A small cabin by the woods is where I'm brought.
The sun is just starting to peek above the mountain,
Its rays springing forth like a golden fountain.
Wake up early! Before Mom and Dad,
We had to see what new toys we had.
“Look ***** look! Santa was here!
He left a print in the hearth and fed his reindeer!”
Mom made coffee as dad rubbed his eyes,
Once presents were done, we had one last surprise,
Once presents were done, we had one last dream.
hot cocoa, with peppermint and cream!
And then it was gone, like the crack of a whip,
It was gone before I got even a single sip.
Back to the seeping cold, the piercing chill
As I sit alone on Christmas under a windowsill.
I was alone,
the chill, more piercing now
Reaching my bones.
In houses all around me families sharing love and cheer.
It hurt me so much more to be so near.
Alms, alms just for one warm embrace,
Alms to banish these tears from my face.
Alms, alms to stay strong and endure
Alms, alms, the end is near.
Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 11:44 PM UTC
A veritable caricature of Jeremiah Johnson, I strung out on "truth"
years ago.
Sitting amongst August sidewalks which sweat like a ***** in heat,
I verbally assault passersby.
With a slurred battle cry of, "I can out merlot you any day!" I fall to
my knees, unsure of which direction is up.
I try not to think of words like vertigo, or.....vertigo.
A honking car sounds life back into me, but the windows are tinted so
I can't tell if I have it coming or not.
I flip em' the bird, just to be sure.
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 2:08 AM UTC
Where God's colors renew the horizon's edge, Salvation Soldiers
aren't to be found.
And while prairie dogs find themselves squatters on their own land,
upper crust artists show us where the day old bread is.
This is a good place to clear your head if ever there was one.
Where dusty markets lead down dusty roads, which lead right into
the middle of where I want to be.
Free and Alone on the side of a mountain, where the sun don't
apologize to me, and I don't have to explain myself to anyone else.
Some go ahead and call this God's Country.
But I call this place New Mexico.
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 2:03 AM UTC
Bus stop dreads stop me in my tracks because I'm too white to be coming
around here.
My clothes are too ***** and my smile too honest.
I live a life of privilege that has nothing to do with the color of my skin or
the "insufficient funds" in my bank account.
Idle time is the devil's plaything they say,
But the devil has always sent his own to take care of me.
So we just keep on walking, not to be judged by the race based politics of those who have no recognized power over us.
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 11:09 PM UTC
My friend and I saw Val Kilmer make a **** deal last night, and her
nose started to itch.
We both used to ride the rails, but on completely different lines.
Mine took me to new states.
Hers took her to a different state of mind.
I Asked her to come with me once, in so many words.
Before I could ask her, "why not?" she asked the same of me.
I told her I was scared.
She said, "Me Too".
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 11:06 PM UTC
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
I count the divider lines as they disappear under the truck.
The hood of our big rig eating them up like some,
insatiable beast.
"You and me" he says, "We're the last real cowboys."
He's right.
We're the last real vestige of the American West.
The thousand dead bugs and cracked windshield tell the stories of
our cannon ball runs.
Littered floors and bloodshot eyes have replaced our calendars.
Local bartenders have replaced our therapists.
And the 8-track gives us hope with a steady beat.
**** John Wayne!" he screams as he snorts a line and blows past the
weigh station.
This has been going on for three hours now, and I'm strangely comfortable.
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 11:03 PM UTC
Gypsy smiles with aching minds put forty ounce bottles to pursed lips, and we're still not drunk enough to have excuses in the morning.
Our lives have become the lyrics to a Tom Waits anthem.
Dusty Carhartts and broken knuckles beg the question: "What kind of collective living exists when nobodies home?"
My mind is racing like the CSX flyby out of Baldwin, and I'm tempted to jump in front of that ************ tonight cause I'm too scared to change the world.
She walks up and hugs me and I pray that it's more than the beer hugging me.
"Another World is Possible" is painted behind us in strokes of motivation the others just don't have.
There was no dust kicking up behind me as I walked away. There wasn't even a break in the conversation.
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 10:47 PM UTC
I march to a different drummer
My life it is my own
I'm an explorer of experience
That is how I'm known
I've seen snow in South Dakota
I've been on the Vegas strip
Had barbeque in Kansas
My life has been a trip
I'm a gypsy of the railways
I'm a legend in my time
I move on in a boxcar
Brother... spare a dime?
I've been through all the landlocked states
Five provinces as well
I've seen Niagara Falls all frozen
I've seen it flowing fast as well
I've had margaritas in Key West
And Bourbon in Kentucky
Craft beers out in Oregon
In my life I have been lucky
I travel on my stories
Feed myself with all my tales
I'm an explorer of experience
I'm a gypsy of the rails
I never stick around too long
I don't wear my welcome out
I come and see just what I want
That's what life is all about
I've railroad friends in Texas
Some up in BC too
We've shared drinks in San Diego
And had a great Alaskan brew
I'm not one to live by your rules
I find my rules suit me fine
I'm an explorer of experience
And I'm riding on the lines
You can find me down in Georgia
Or eating spuds in Idaho
I never know just where I'll be
Until my ride begins to go
I'm a gypsy of the railways
I'm a legend in my time
I move on in a boxcar
Brother...spare a dime?
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 12:12 PM UTC
Your traveling bag
That I nicknamed the ***
Beause of the way you're unbound
Though your she-hobo moans
Are too free for a home,
You slip in and back out without sound.
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 12:23 AM UTC
I caught a Union Pacific headed westbound
howling at the moon
A blanket of stars and my guitar
that's when I wrote this tune
That "Midnight Express" will get you there
if ya haven't a worry, or reason to care
Headin' down the line, steady as she goes
it's like heavy metal rock and roll
------------------------------------------------
Rode it up an' down to Sacramento
when a railway man said, " Ya gotta go."
I heated up iron 'til the trail went cold
riding heavy metal rock and roll
Heavy metal, rock and roll
it shakes and it quakes , rattles my soul
I wasn't born on a train
but that's how I'll go
thanks to heavy metal's
rock and roll
--------------------------------------------------
Now every time I hear a whistle blow
I think of "catchin' out" and wonder where it's goin'
Well, I may sing like some "country folks"
but, I love heavy metal & rock and roll
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 7:44 PM UTC
Limping through loneliness
Existing in a reality that is wholly mine
Living only for death
Following the beam just outside humankind
Answering to no one
Knowing you wouldn't answer my call
Dying to live
Dying to escape from it all
Gasping for breath
Pushing a life rigid steel and cold
Pray for answers
Resenting God for putting me on hold
Mumbling to the four winds
Passing cars invite salvation
Plodding ever aimlessly
Resisting my suicidal ideation
Stroking yellowed beard
Sweating inside layers stained and rotten
Drinking pain away
Realizing I'm simply, sadly forgotten
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 10:26 PM UTC
Dust-covered two-lane highways
Catch the footfalls of my meanderings.
Meadowlarks and Phoebe-birds
Sing backup to my tuneless whistles.
Clouds illuminated by God-rays
Paint the sky above my head
And the Man in the Moon
Smiles as I bed neath a willow for the night.
I am a wanderer, a vagabond, a ***
The iron wrought train tracks
I secretly ride pass through the fields,
The forests, the mountains and valleys,
The cities and suburbs, the small towns too,
Home to so many who choose there to dwell.
But my home is the open countryside,
The fields of wildflowers and bushes,
The occasional oak or poplar for shelter,
With a stone for my pillow
Anywhere I wish to rest.
I am a wanderer, a vagabond, a ***
I am the outsider.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 1:42 PM UTC