I always make friends with homeless people. Maybe it’s the *** stained teeth and friendly personalities that draws me too them. When I’m in town you can find me with laughing people, who hold nothing to their being by the end of the day. I love them. They’re so happy, grateful and remind me of everything I want to hold in my heart. They are the sun, surrounded by dark clouds but still radiating through the grey. The public of Surrey in their white designer tops and overpriced jeans will never realize this. Call me a sucker but I would give everything to these people. The friendlier they are the more they deserve it. They always seem to be the ones who have been in their situation for the longest and have tried every method of getting the necessities we indulge on. The saddest, and grittiest are usually new to their world. It’s such a cool world mind. All of them sing punk music, create such beautiful art and tell the most interesting woven stories. They are deep. Very deep. They have been to one end and back, up and down. Being surrounded by these people can be dangerous at times mind. One day I could be engulfed by a dark crowd. By dark I mean, what parents and young teens imagine when they think about going out to the grungy parts of town; the stereotypical stench of creepy men glowing with peoples fear of them. Rapists, *** traffickers, hard-core drugs, drunk men breathing down your neck and pulling roughly on your arm. I’ve been kissed on the cheek by a drunken dark mess, but he soon got punched by another. They respect people consent, children and females of any age. I don’t care if it’s a sexist old age thing for men to feel protective over women. Women are the most scared when regarding this world. I was scared. It was only a kiss on the cheek but that could lead on to so much more if left to slide. That’s why he got punched. You don’t cross boundaries. It’s the same with any person; have or have not. At the end of the day, I find the characters with scruffy attire and a perfume of ****, cigarettes and beer more comforting and safer than those who breed Topshop, Topman, Hollister Apple and Urban Outfitters. I am the kid all parents would fear to let out on their own. And they should. I’m going to get myself in trouble one day, talking to strangers and hanging around gritty areas alone. But it’s better than when I used to shoplift. And anyway…I feel a lot happier after I hang round these people.

Veronica LaMonica
Played the harmonica
In our local high school band.
She collected japonica
She says it is a tonic
Attuned to a young lady’s hand.
She swears she is not picky
But avoids the ricky-ticky
And goes instead for the class.
She claims not to be picky
But avoids like a big hickey
Anything of plastic or brass.

Veronica LaMonica
Played the harmonica
In our local high school band.
She collected japonica
She says it is a tonic
Attuned to a young lady’s hand.

Veronica is the prettiest
Down to the nitty grittiest
Girl in the local school we both attend.
She’s not always wittiest
Rather hit and messiest,
But I’m glad at least she is my friend.
I’d like her to be more
That’s what this rhyme if for
To tell her she’s the best in the world.
She ’s the very highest floor,
The one have always adored,
She’s most artistically talented girl.

Veronica LaMonica
Played the harmonica
In our local high school band.
She collected japonica
She says it is a tonic
Attuned to a young lady’s hand.

If there will be a tolerating of a metered Tapping
Of finicky high pitch the flipping of flapping
If domino fingers find dancing refinement as pins in the roll of the promenade brigade

Then command to attention each private and captain, each Sergeant, lieutenant, Commander in Chief, and deputy director,  please seniors and majors...I've called an assembly, I'd like to keep brief.

To even presume some desire is pouncing, waiting in ready to Connect on Command, as if orders have issued external assignment, a repose from an otherwise comical stand.

There is nothing more perfect, and no one more clever, no motive for power 'scuse a Daft Rumour Spreader.

Just simply a-script from a quick keene observer, that was shoved to the seat like some kind of Sacrificial Meat.

In A-gaze, Stiff as Steel-Steering of hands
Gripping heat on the wheel in the front of this Monster Truck Madness Ordeal.

It's easy to jeer, laugh, joke and sneer from the drunk, detached comfort of Stadium Beer.

But, Wait, a Reminder!!
We are all in the Boat!
Don't yell at the driver
Then claim not to Float.

Oh, so I see, it's clearly
just innocence
do forgive me,
Cause it comes from the jarring, and scarring, manure in air, that boasts of boldly stout cheering fanfare, clamoring, yammering, death rally hammering, celebrating dirtiest, grittiest, most Carelessly Daring.

Why would the crowd be gathered if not to service-us with shocking engagement to consummate longing for Death's-Entertainment?

I've always found this sinister trait in human beings grossly Un-great.

i've picked up the pace
i've seen the beauty of the world once again
in the faces of strangers
and in the grittiest places
i feel alive,
and i wonder how i could have possibly
stopped seeing life through rose colored glasses.
time and time again i fall in love with the world
when i feel it loving me,
and what a splendid feeling
to be young and alive,
what a wonder it is
to be alive!

And now the real test begins,
sink or swim, pass or fail.
Well, it's not an exam in
the true sense of the word;
I won't receive a grade or
a score.

This is life,
at its grittiest, goriest,
glorious best.
This is death;
crawling closer with
every wheezing, and
scrawled stroke of
the pen.

I have plenty of nay-sayers,
and my God,
I wouldn't have it
any other way.
Every good drama
or piece of fiction, or
any ******* life worth
living needs strong
antagonists, and to mine
I say this:
sometimes, you have to
walk through the fire
to get to the other side.