"homelessness" poems
This is the Last Straw –
and Something About Sacred Buckets of Holistic Ice Water
****** predators, human smugglers
Starvation in the Sudan, civil war
in Syria, mass executions in China
Journalists murdered almost everywhere
Fashionable infanticide, homelessness
Unemployment, urban terrorism
Mass ****** school shootings, wildfires, racism
An unstable national government
Anti-Semitism, border desperation
Riots, arson, ecclesiastical corruption
**** alcoholism, historical cleansing
Skinheads, abuse, Khardassianistas
Volcanos, the death penalty, free verse
Affluenza, Jerry Springer, The View
Herbal tea, antifa, anti-antifa
And the soul-sucking existential despair
Of inspirational singer-songwriters:
Nah, not a bit worried about plastic straws
But I must go now; The Voices are telling me
To pour a bucket of ice water over my head
(As long as it’s not a plastic bucket)
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 3:58 PM UTC
Be open-minded and admit the possibility
That some things are objectively wrong
We all live in a constant state of gray area
I see you pretty often, maybe once every week or so
For a moment our bubbles come very close to overlapping
But they so far have always held firm
Which is, in one respect, kind of amazing
Yet in another, to be expected
Our bubbles are made of rubber and concrete
Our lives are so different - we’re separated by
Class, gender, age, ethnicity and health history
Different in almost every way you could imagine
Save for location, which again is amazing
If we ever step out of our bubbles one day
And I actually hope we do
It will be uncomfortable, I imagine, and also
Potentially dangerous for both of us
But it could turn out great
Most people ask themselves I guess
Whether it’s worth the risk
And say no and they probably make assumptions
And I so far haven’t made too many about you
Although to make none is impossible and so of that I am proud
Some things might be wrong even if
Everyone does them and even if
You or I do them constantly
Without an ounce of guilt
It’s possible anyway
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 7:25 PM UTC
i want you to imagine standing in the middle of an already collapsing house, and having everything suddenly flip upside down; or after years of homelessness, picture yourself being told you had somewhere you could stay for good, only to wake up just before being handed the keys. these are some of dangers of making places out of people.
1. don't ever turn a human being into a home unless you are prepared to be evicted without warning.
2. when you start to notice their arms taking the shape of a roof over your head, you have two choices: run, or wait for it to cave.
3. if they ask you to stay and burn with them, you have the right to say no.
4. it is not your responsibility to save anyone, and it is not your fault when you can't.
5. salvaging the photos from a house fire will only re-break your heart every time you pull them out to look at them.
6. when the basement floods, hold their hand.
7. if you are not a strong swimmer, remember that the difference between love and codependence is that one of then will drown you.
8. love will never drown you.
9. i knew this from the start but let you hold me beneath the waves in spite of it, just so you could stay afloat. i can't do that anymore.
10. i don't think i'll ever set foot on your hardwood floors again, but i'll pray that someone new moves in soon.
- m.f.
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 7:39 PM UTC
When letters wait
to pounce on a blank page
when thoughts crowd the mind
like frothing **** in a pond
I keep wondering
what poetry is to me
what poetry is to many
Is it not the language of the heart
with no intervention of gray matter
the unlocking of closed vaults
stirring the embers of love, hurt or pain
or giving a free rein to fancy
and flying on magic carpets
to lands forlorn
Sometimes it is
a glide into a sea of tranquillity
an escape from
the humdrum of the world
a flash of liberation
from assaults of pain
a sedative
to numb the turmoil
a sanctuary
for a burdened heart
a window
to look at the world through
a companion
when one is inconsolably alone
a candle flame
in a darkening world
a cloth line
to hang the ***** laundry
a water lily blooming
in the pool of tears
a shelter
in homelessness
sometimes it is a ladder
to climb up to Heavens
an angel on wings
with tidings of hope
peace in a world
braced for war
Poetry, if you are all these
let us fall at your feet
bless us in our art
may we splurge in fancy
and conjure up worlds from words!
our poems may not be light houses
but could be fireflies
on a starless night!
Dec 20, 2017
Dec 20, 2017 at 11:56 AM UTC
It's always been a problem
but one most of us ignore
we never think it would happen to us
or to anyone we know
we always think we're smarter than that
but what would happen if you became homeless
We see these people on the streets
outside shops, around town
most of us ignore them
as individuals we can not help eliminate homelessness
but united we can
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 6:22 PM UTC
1010
Up Life’s Hill with my my little Bundle
If I prove it steep—
If a Discouragement withhold me—
If my newest step
Older feel than the Hope that prompted—
Spotless be from blame
Heart that proposed as Heart that accepted
Homelessness, for Home—
4.6k
I am not at home.
Home is where you go back to after vacation.
Where you don’t worry about whether to take your shoes off in the entryway.
Where you know that the light switch between you and your parent’s bedroom
doesn’t actually do anything.
Where you know you can leave your ***** dishes on the counter
because somebody will put them in the dishwasher for you.
Where people say, “What are you doing for the holidays?”
And you say, “I’m going home.”
And they say, “Oh, that’s nice,”
and it is.
That’s home.
But I have none of those things.
Sometimes things like that depress me. And then I have this strange urge to tell someone,
just to see if it depresses them too.
It doesn’t have to be someone I care about. It just has to be someone who would listen.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 7:47 PM UTC
"but where is my tomorrow," said the ticking of the time
this alternate reality is slipping through my mind
I cannot seem to focus and I never want to sleep
instead I lie awake beside the loneliness I keep
there's only so much human any person can embrace
before the roots of truth begin to spread across your face
I have not measured hours long enough to see them through
I'm changing at a pace I cannot possibly undo
wherever I am going and wherever I have been
create the kind of future I could never settle in
these feet have walked the deserts and the mire all the same
I would not even be without the dryness and the rain
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 11:16 AM UTC
Men are 3 to 7 times more likely to commit suicide than women.
Men account for 55 percent of the workforce, but account for 92 percent of workplace deaths.
Men live on average 5 years less than women.
Police shoot more white men than any other demographic each year.
The vast majority of people in prison are men.
The majority of people suffering from homelessness are men.
Men are encouraged to seek help with there mental health but are ridiculed or ignored when they try.
77 percent of suicides are men.
"Be more open about your emotions"
"Stop complaining, you have no right to complain"
"Man up"
"Don't be a *****
"That's not a real man's job"
"Grow a pair"
"You won't even fight back?"
"I need a man that can afford me"
"Men don't cry its a sign of weakness"
"Men have it so good"
"All men are trash"
**** all men"
Welcome to manhood.
Sep 29, 2022
Sep 29, 2022 at 6:56 AM UTC
Homelessness can strike anyone at any given time
It could be due to any situation that is combined
No one wants to live on the streets
It is often written about within tweets
Mental illness a sickness that most homeless have
It was not some gift
Don’t look down on homeless like they are a drift
We are not far away
There are many words I could say
Homelessness from city to city that has spread all around
We are all just seconds from being homeless bound
One day noises being unknown, but continuous echoes not having any sounds
Scenery being nothing more than subway rides
Walking and talking to one’s self being strides
Having no place with a home to eat
Movement after continuous movement being a retreat
Homeless living in cardboard boxes being home
Having no family, but feeling alone
Homeless are citizens too
Solutions to homeless problems is what is truly due
Forcing homeless into shelters is not the action to take
No one has an answer because they can’t relate
A more marketable approach would be the motivation needed
It’s the only way to proceed
Homelessness is dark ages of dungeons of the unknown
An open heart that needs to be shown
Remember homeless didn’t put this act on themselves
They were rejected by means of somebody else
Society has labeled them having no social place
My thoughts this needs to be erased
Also added that homeless are a waste
But society must have compassion and not be haste
A homeless town being still around
What would it take to hear the homeless voices justice sounds?
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 2:48 PM UTC
I offered a homeless lady
some food to eat
and she shook her head
and said
this is good stuff, you should enjoy it yourself
I asked her what she needed
she said it would be nice
to have a place to stay, a fire, and a bathroom
and a bed to sleep in
I was silent
of course I had those things
I offered her some money and some poetry
she took out some cash
and said, I have money
the poems never really captured
the meaning of her life
I never really appreciated the meaning of her life
it would have been
like taking away her homelessness
http://kinyopoetry.com/
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 11:44 AM UTC
Peak temperature water levels fake diagnoses white psychopaths starving hunger jingoism violence [systems that deprive us] guns entitlement shots fired accidents grief/mourning choking hazard corporate mascots corporate favoritism corporate bailouts corporate people ideology without monitor nationalism patriotism conservatives patriarchy murder-rape-suicide victim silence lack of conviction religious ********** false history infant mortality job insecurity invisible hands trickle down economics union busters corporate police brutal police evil police secret police debt bankruptcy foreclosure homelessness lost confused prisoner criminal banker war preparations propaganda ballots commercials advertisements campaigns money power puppets figureheads armies genocides **** bomb gas fire no survival violence wealthy lawyers assassinations heart complications death sleep.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 1:40 PM UTC
God gave me voice
not to be silent
but to scream out
about mercy and violence
about rights and wrongs
about beauty of world
about child labor
about colorful rainbow
about witch trials
about love and desire
about lies and betrayals
about lost, drug addicts, outcasts, homelessness
and most of all about His forgiveness.
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 3:25 PM UTC
This job is just one long drawn out lobotomy.
Hey quit putting gum on the bottom of these desks you *******
I can think of a few ways to get out of here but I don't think I can afford a ****** harassment lawsuit.
I'm about 2 minutes away from a faking a seizure and about 5 from a real one.
Hey Guantanamo Bay, are your methods of torture outdated and boring? Then have I got a deal for you...
You think you can just drop Seinfeld references and I won't pick up on them? You thought wrong, *****
I think I lost the ability to see color...
All work and no play makes Ashton a dull boy...
I'm still waiting on Betty White to crawl her old *** out here and tell me this is some kind of practical joke.
Homelessness is looking more and more like a serious option
Don't pull the fire alarm. Don't pull the fire alarm. Don't pull the fire alarm.
Enough is enough! I have had it with all these ************* boogers on these ************* desks!
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 6:01 PM UTC
Can you imagine
Sleeping on the street
Going without the daily things
That you take for granted daily
Can you imagine
Working alongside
A person who must live like this
And still can't afford them?
The homeless and the destitute
Don't live in prisons and in workhouses
They live and work amongst us
They are our compatriots, our friends
They have pride, as do you
That's why you don't know
They don't look different
There's no scarlet letter on their clothing
But, the reaction from the masses
Is always negative at best
This is not a life choice
They aren't just the dregs of society
These are people...PEOPLE
They want respect, but it doesn't matter
Not a bit...they have pride, and that's what counts
That 's why you don't know
They are the hidden
The working class of poor
They are the avalanche of humanity
That pour through the mission door
They have spouses, and young children
Using programs and support
But, to most they are invisible
Homelessness is not a sport
It doesn't have a season
You can not turn away from it
Ignorance is not a reason
It's time to make a change of things
Get out and do your part
Smile each time someone talks to you
It's not big, but it's a start
There is no special uniform
There is no way for them to look
You may be sitting next to one
In the library, with that book
Change the worlds perception
Hold the grass down, on the way
Step up, and do the right thing
Help the homeless out today.
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 7:57 PM UTC
Once I knew a place, a place I never truly found significant.
A vast stretch of abandonment and history - long forgotten and left to be consumed by Time himself.
Once I knew a place, a place I never truly understood.
Decorated by Mother Nature with an asortment of trees and shrubs and an abundance of flowers it's only scar which betrayed it to the present was a solitary man-made structure, tattoed with the bold letters of "FALCON SECURITY" - surely an untold testimony to this place's past life.
Once I knew a place, a place I never truly acknowledged.
Ocassionally it would become the temporary haven of hobbos and hermits alike. Living in mutual homelessness they sort comfort under the trees, in the confines of the hideous building or simply amongst the long, billowing grass of the place. They would build thingie-ma-jigs, what-ja-ma-call-its and thing-a-ma-bobs and sell them to the curt passerbys of their place.
Once I knew a place, a place I never truly appreciated.
Surrounded by infastructure, and industry it stood out like a rose amongst the thorns and brought beauty and clarity back into the otherwise monotonous, morbid environment. It stood defiant and strong against the hungry, salivating greed of humanity - yet someday it was bound to succumb to our over-powering ambition for development.
Once I knew a place, a place that no longer exists.
In the blink of an eye that place was destroyed - uprooted and upheaveled.
Every tree, every shrub, every flower ripped out and now gone. No longer a haven but a grave yard where the dead lay scattered like fallen soldiers across the battlefield. Victims against the War of Industrialisation they fell prey to mans' heinous desires.
"Collateral damage" for a "brighter" future they say.
I say, who needs another vehicle retail outlet.
Once I knew a place, and I will never know that place again.
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC
You saw them suffering everyday as you passed by
So somedays you threw money in their little tin can
But their pain lies far beneath the surface
Homelessness is an illness that costs more than pocket change to cure
Starvation and injustice can't be paid with a full tin can
Their lifestyles cant be changed with ten thousand cans of change
Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 6:32 PM UTC
When you discover the world around you
You also discover all within it
Selfishness, Greed, Hatred, Infidelity, Abuse, Sickness, Waste, Homelessness, and War
We bare witness to all these things
But selfishly ignore them,
In route to prospect of all these evil forces that misguides us
For better or worse
It scopes our daily lives with inconvient truth's
The mental or physical rightousness
That lies in the truth of disparage
History of our actions will go noted
In the days and years that come about as such
You can not tell life what to do
You must surrender it all into the hands of God
That he protects you from the shame, one must feel deep inside
Waivers us from all our faults and sin alike
Trust in the inner voice that speaks to you and believe
For God's truth is yours if you want it
Set your intentions to heal thyself and other's
Peace be still in you, with love for your sister and your brother
Or let your misguided judgement, and false preservations follow you into your own judgement to...Hell!
(upwc) by: Zenobia Lee/LadyZ710 12/13/09
Dec 17, 2009
Dec 17, 2009 at 7:10 AM UTC
Standing by the soup kitchen,
Wrapped up in freezing cold.
Not very old in numbers,
but feeling rather old.
The townsfolk snub him,
They ignore his missus.
His fingers sparkle blue and red,
No magic lurks within.
His blanket's rather itchy.
the people passing by,
are either numb or ******
get a job, they shout for sport.
their coffee cup, their only support.
It beggars belief that the poor souls get grief.
There for the grace of God go I.
(c) Livvi
Dec 18, 2016
Dec 18, 2016 at 5:03 PM UTC
You remember the good old days
the days during the war
When there was still a thing called homelessness
and everyone seemed poor
You'd work all day and half the night
just so you'd get by
And then they'd send your job abroad
or give it to a cheaper guy
Your money would buy less and less
cos things cost more and more
And everyone felt scared
but why we were not sure
Economies went through the floor
the whole world was in debt
Even things like land and real estate
were no longer a safe bet
Oh how I miss those happy days
so much better then than now
Hang on a sec whats that up there
is it a flying pig or cow?
Jul 20, 2010
Jul 20, 2010 at 3:24 PM UTC
She was a carefree soul
in an uptight world
Just trying to fit in.
Looking for love
in all the right places
that's how her story begins
Her mama didn't want her,
Her daddy didn't know her,
so she ran away
Looking for love
in all the wrong places
as she does to this day
Men her daddy's age
Drug are all the rage
Disco ***** Stripper Poles,
Needles and Sin
Married at 18
seemed like the right thing
drugs, an abortion, then a baby girl.
Why she had me
I'll never know
I didn't fit into her world
She found love
in the form of a son
for a time it was enough
A walk with God
She claimed she was on
But satan called her bluff.
Many men, any age
Drugs are still all the rage.
Barstools, Stripper poles
Needles and sin
She left us
at an early age,
Teenage girl and boys times 2
Searching for happiness
in all the wrong places
is watch she HAD to do.
Being a mother
To my little brothers
We got through life ok.
Hoping and dreaming
wishing and praying
Our mother would find her way.
All these men, every age,
Ice is now all the rage
Sleepless nights, alcoholic life,
Needles and Sin
On the streets
is where she lives
druggies are her friends.
Countless ways
to try to save her
But there is no end.
Is this the life
she dreamt of having
All that time ago?
A beautiful daughter, two talented sons
and grandkids she'll never know.
Any man, whatever age
Homelessness all the rage.
Self deception, mind corruption
Needles and sin.
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 11:32 PM UTC
bars, brothels and homelessness
broken and blessed
reminds me of a home I used to know...
pax.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 2:06 AM UTC
The sky is so polluted but it's beautiful, isn't it though?
Feel bad, so to relax, sit outside 7-Eleven with a smoke.
With the way I hold my head you can't even tell I'm poor.
Or maybe you can, because "What's that?" You ask. It's
the loose change in my pockets overfilled to the spilling
You hear me walking, it's no-cash, it's no-wash, the half
blood broke *** All the bad habits, no natural habitat.
Clothes from the Village feel almost as fine on your flesh
as the high class new tags from the corner off 5th/Saks
What makes you happy? What makes you happy?
With just a little more coming in you could finance your
fantasy, or get more freak and nasty. Green is the color
on top of the clouds that catches you falling before the ground.
Shuck corn, remorseless, you can get it paid. Mesmerize
at the numbers rising higher and higher, coerced too
easily to enjoy your stay. What makes you happy?
What makes you happy? The view from the penthouse
on top of the city. Pity. There's no love in the home you
built. There's no cause no effect no affection waking
you up to touch the world with the passion igniting
your eyes and pulsing out your fingertips. One step
from homelessness without one hope, but faith is
a better replacement in the end and I've got faith
in code.
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 10:48 PM UTC