Alone, Forgotten, Lonely, Out Of Sight Out Of Mind.*
(Dedicated to all homeless and street people throughout the world)

Alone, forgotten, lonely, out of sight out of mind
Neglected by our society, rejected by mankind
The mentally ill, the homeless, the vulnerable, human beings are everywhere
Dozens dying daily;* drugs, drink, disease, deprivation, despair.

Languishing in the hostels, bedsits, dumps in need of repair
In places of oblivion where no one seems to care
Exploited by corrupt, unscrupulous landlords who look on with disdain
Their only real concern is of how much they can gain.

For others not so “lucky” who are looking for a bed
They'll turn to any place of comfort to rest their weary head
Alleys, stairwells, doorways, basements, any place will do
So long as there is shelter for one night, maybe two.

Another day is dawning, another day of doom
Where to move on next from the cold, the rain, the gloom?
Wandering about aimlessly, searching for a clue
To find a place of refuge for the many, not the few.

“No room” in such places, “Full up”, closed doors all around
It’s back to that place of misery the previous night they found
Danger, cold, wet, abject squalor beckons yet again
For the thousands in our society; vulnerable, teenagers, young women, young men.

But just how many make it to see yet another day?
Some will not awaken, found dead, frozen where they lay
Another lost, forgotten statistic which no one cares to keep
Figures of huge numbers, enough to make you weep.

And what about the others that those dead friends leave behind?
If you look in the right places, this is what you’ll find:
Sickness, destitution, chronic ill health are matters of fact
Deterioration of bodies, lost souls, minds about to crack.

Misery, dejection, deep depression is the norm
However strong the individual, whatever shape or form
Existing mental illness; minor, moderate, severe
Will clearly be exacerbated by torment, uncertainty, fear.

Confused, weak, weary, frightened, very much alone
Another day of hopelessness, another day unknown
Too tired to go on any more with illness, apathy, despair
It's time to say “Goodbye cruel world, no one really cares”.

One more death, a suicide, caused by complacency, neglect
Isn’t it time to treat our fellow man with a little more respect?
Help, care, understanding would certainly be a start
Act now to prevent more deaths Those-With-Power, compassion, heart.        

Let’s start to radically rethink, review our “Community Care”
We must stop leaving our vulnerable unassessed, unmonitored, unaware
Two years have now slipped by since the start of this disastrous Act
It's time to change this “system”, which is failing, that’s a fact.

So come on health staff, social workers, politicians across the divide
Get your acts together to stop this rising tide
Of needless deaths, human suffering, tragedies that put you all to shame
“A national disgrace, disaster, scandal” - who will take the blame?


*A poem based on vast personal insight, knowledge and experience.
March 1995 … What’s really changed in all those years?!

These wayward meets
between us,
bird and fish,
made near the rivers of otterdom
are blessed
quietly now and unassessed
by all the passers by.

You and your parasol in kind,
me and my bare feet,
designed
with a poorer life in mind.
I'd cast my pole again,
whilst you'd set your bread on the bridge's wall
for the doves to come and call
to call and come a'gathering.
Merely pigeons, each,
merely pigeons
one and all.

I'd see your clamped and shut words,
your bitten wail,
amidst your friends of the park-ground pale
dressed in all their flowering frills.
Merely pigeons one and all.

You'd dare sail your eyes to me,
cross the water to meet with mine.
And how the river'd strip away
the face you wore then
and still today.
I could have watched your reflection stay,
feath'ry 'tween the cattails,
fluttering off the water and resting 'gainst my scales.

But a bit of bank under my nails,
says I am much too poor for this.
Much too poor for tales
to remind me when you come to feed,
remembering when I come to catch,
that we are not so different,
though
yes the world would let us know.