"houseless" poems
notice the convulsed orange inch of moon
perching on this silver minute of evening.
We’ll choose the way to the forest—no offense
to you,white town whose spires softly dare.
Will take the houseless wisping rune
of road lazily carved on sharpening air.
Fields lying miraculous in violent silence
fill with microscopic whithering
…(that’s the Black People, chérie,
who live under stones.) Don’t be afraid
and we will pass the simple ugliness
of exact tombs,where a large road crosses
and all the people are minutely dead.
Then you will slowly kiss me
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Oh, will you ever return to me,
My wild first force, will you return
When the old madness comes to
Blacken in me and to burn
Slow in my brain like a slow fire
In a blackened brazier - dull
like a smear of blood,
Humid and hot evil, slow-sweltering
up in a flood!
Oh, will you not come back, my fierce song?
Jubilant and exultant, triumphing over
the huge wrong
of that slow fire of madness that feeds
on me - the slow mad blood
thick with its hate and evil, sweltering
up in its flood!
Oh! will you not purge it from me -
my wild lost flame?
Come and restore me, save me from the
intolerable shame
Of that huge eye that eats into my
Naked body constantly
And has no name,
Gazing upon me from the immense and
Cruel bareness of the sky
That leaves no mercy of concealment
That gives no promise of revealment
And that drives us on forever with its
lidless eye
Across a huge and houseless level of
a planetary vacancy
Oh, wild song and fury, fire and flame,
Lost magic of my youth return, defend
me from this shame!
And Oh! You golden vengeance of bright
song
Not cure but answer to earth's wrong
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No, helpless thing, I cannot harm thee now;
Depart in peace, thy little life is safe,
For I have scanned thy form with curious eye,
Noted the silver line that streaks thy back,
The azure and the orange that divide
Thy velvet sides; thee, houseless wanderer,
My garment has enfolded, and my arm
Felt the light pressure of thy hairy feet;
Thou hast curled round my finger; from its tip,
Precipitous descent! with stretched out neck,
Bending thy head in airy vacancy,
This way and that, inquiring, thou hast seemed
To ask protection; now, I cannot **** thee.
Yet I have sworn perdition to thy race,
And recent from the slaughter am I come
Of tribes and embryo nations: I have sought
With sharpened eye and persecuting zeal,
Where, folded in their silken webs they lay
Thriving and happy; swept them from the tree
And crushed whole families beneath my foot;
Or, sudden, poured on their devoted heads
The vials of destruction.--This I've done
Nor felt the touch of pity: but when thou,--
A single wretch, escaped the general doom,
Making me feel and clearly recognise
Thine individual existence, life,
And fellowship of sense with all that breathes,--
Present'st thyself before me, I relent,
And cannot hurt thy weakness.--So the storm
Of horrid war, o'erwhelming cities, fields,
And peaceful villages, rolls dreadful on:
The victor shouts triumphant; he enjoys
The roar of cannon and the clang of arms,
And urges, by no soft relentings stopped,
The work of death and carnage. Yet should one,
A single sufferer from the field escaped,
Panting and pale, and bleeding at his feet,
Lift his imploring eyes,-- the hero weeps;
He is grown human, and capricious Pity,
Which would not stir for thousands, melts for one
With sympathy spontaneous:-- 'Tis not Virtue,
Yet 'tis the weakness of a virtuous mind.
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it is for
the sake
of my mother’s
brother
that I
am named.
I know only
the most
insufficient
detail
of his life:
that he drowned.
a kind
great uncle
I imagine
he would’ve been
to my sons.
him regaling to my daughter
stories
of his wild
sister; wiling away in houseless trees.
whenever I hold my breath
my brothers fight.
Jun 30, 2012
Jun 30, 2012 at 4:34 AM UTC
There was a vacant lot in space,
And I was interested in that.
It was a little spendy,
But the view was incredible,
So I bought it out from under a man I didn't know.
I felt just a little bit bad.
I moved right up,
Set my belongings on the lawn.
I'd heard it would be cold, that empty lot in space,
But it wasn't so bad,
And the view was incredible.
I unpacked and organized my things on that lawn,
Made all of grass.
There was no house up there.
They asked me why I'd moved there,
To a houseless lot in space,
And I'd tell them two truths:
"I wanted to be a little more alone," I'd say,
"And I wanted to see everyone at once."
They countered with downsides,
With hunger, thirst, and love,
And they were right,
But the view was incredible,
And I couldn't leave that behind.
I was a little more alone,
And a little more cold and thin.
I was a little more tired,
And my empty lot in space was a square among circles,
Just like me.
But I looked down at my old house,
That shape where I used to live,
And I saw everyone at once,
Lit up by stars.
The view was incredible.
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 1:16 AM UTC
Khuda was to life
Even though it was bragged
And dragged
Khuda was to family love
Even though there was million homeless
And houseless
Khuda was to smile
That visited all without discrimination
And counted sin
Khuda was to tears
That too visited all inspite of blessings
And great riches
Khuda was to Khuda
For the unseen presence
And unknown absence.
Rabba teri Khuda.
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 8:02 AM UTC
)(
()
)(
/\
•
We are ALL homeless
Some are also Houseless
••
We are ALL hungry
Some are also without Food
/////
We are ALL Dead inside
Some shall soon be also really dead
••
We are too stupid to know we are stupid
••
We hurt more people than we love
•
If we read what we write we would die of shame
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
I have a house with me
Around me
It surrounds me
Wherever I go
It goes with me
Wherever I stand
It stands with me
And wherever I sit
It sits with me
I can settle anywhere
I can live here and there
Without fear
I live free
With my house next to the tree
Or by the sea
But many still call me houseless
Because my house is without an address
If you’re to send me a post card
Leave it with you
And I will come for it
This is just a thought
Feeling relaxed
Have asked for an answer
To bring another thought
That ought to be true or fault
Thanks for reading this CRAZY writing.
From the land of hash
Where I have just sat with my house
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 5:24 PM UTC
i have no idea how many hours she toiled
in the community kitchen before i arrived,
but she’d made a *** of tofu stew, a bowl
of rice and beans, some spinach lasagna
soaked in marinara, hummus
and daiya cheese sandwiches.
diligent and dutiful,
without question,
without expectation.
an hour later, we stood in Lykes Gaslight Park,
doling out food to the houseless folks
who’d lined up for a vegan meal
when, out of the blue, a well-dressed
college student swaggered up to us,
his smile shimmering, and asked
what we were doing.
she brushed a loose strand
of hair behind one ear,
smearing a bit of sauce
across her cheek,
and said, “we are here to live
as if we are already free.”
they were sharing food too,
he explained, which was all well
and good. but we couldn’t help but notice
they’d never set foot here in the past,
that they only came out
when the season
passed into the holidays.
“you know,” he told us,
“you might not realize,
but the Lord Jesus Christ
is using you for the gospel.”
which seemed rather strange,
given that he’d be back
in his sanctuary before the year
was out, raising his hands
and praising his dead god
instead of standing beside us
every Tuesday and Saturday,
sharing.
but we remember the legacy
of the radical Nazarene,
the anarchic revolutionary
who fed five thousand—
a conquest of bread
with nothing but a few loaves
and some fish.
if you listen closely,
you can still hear him whispering,
“take what you need,
give what you can.”
we carry a new world
in our hearts and heads.
we don’t feed the hungry
to win a one-way trip to heaven.
so when you forget
about the poor you use as a prop,
we godless few will remain
in the streets until every belly’s full
and capitalism collapses—
risking arrest, fighting abuse,
addiction and empty stomachs.
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 7:25 AM UTC
I see a sad lad dragging regret through downtown
(not homeless, but houseless, aftermarket crashes)
staggering through shadowy alleys;
black cats laughing at him
in his fashionable tattered jacket
as a fat rat scampers from behind a trash can
he peers into it dazzled to dig up anything that can
help have his scattered thoughts gathered
cigarette butts and ash, ragged magazines,
a half eaten apple to share with his rat friend
none of it matters,
he feels like Aladdin,
he treats his ****** street like a palace
he'd rather be free than happy. is that madness?
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 2:56 AM UTC
Yes I must confess
I am on the verge of being
Houseless
No, not homeless
Just without permanent residence
It is hardly a bother or source of much sadness
Once one remembers home resides
Inside filled with Love, Light
Times of Remembrance
Dec 11, 2019
Dec 11, 2019 at 4:13 PM UTC