Ode to the Homeless

Got a big ole plastic cross hangin'  round my neck
got a little brown  bag with all my stuff ,
 ain't much it's just what's left of
my life
walkin' these streets so long I'm feelin' like a bum
life can sometimes be rough
the streets well,
they sure can be unkind

Paper sayin' there's  a war , wonder where
man , I can't remember the last time I combed my hair
when was the last time I changed this dress
I sure must look a mess
walkin' these streets
so  long  my brain is kinda numb

I see people lookin' and starin '
they should think twice for they could be me
they think I am worthless they think I am scum
they don't know  all the damage that's been done

Livin' here ain't easy sometimes life gets hard
concrete for a pillow
  most times I don't sleep  so good
I dream about a place
this place had a bed
there were some people who loved me
someone callin' my name
one day I heard voices screamin' inside  my brain
all I could do was jump off the train

Now I'm walkin' these street's so long feelin' so insane
hopin' it don't rain 'cause see-
sometimes my  roof it does leak
asked a lady for the time - looked at me and sneered
asked a man for a dime - looked at me
laughed- called me old filthy tramp

I'm walkin' these streets alone 
me  my little brown  bag a' stuff 
I see people's faces in these pictures
I wonder who they are
they look sorta' familiar
if they know me,
I know them- why ain't they here

Walkin' these street's so long hopin' for a break
while my hand's are idle, they always shake
I dimly remember a time when my hands
had a grace
I had a place

Walkin' these street's so long I don't even know my name
these streets can be unkind
these streets are so unkind
wanderin'
wonderin'
what happened to mankind

Author's Note

old poem of for people i feel for .. homeless.. not so good ..
in this one i had in mind a lady who became mentally ill
ended up on the streets
one too many unkinds, suggestion?

Reviews

[ice]

I agree with ladysue, this poem is lyrical, good words for a song..

"pity this busy monster, manunkind,

not. Progress is a comfortable disease:
your victim (death and life safely beyond"

ee knew what he was talking about..I hate that busy monster, that turns its back on people like the one you so clearly described in this poem..
Shame on that comfortable disease, but kudos to your poem.

नमस्ते,

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

There are a handful of homeless who got their buy their own admissions, like drug use but for the most part the rest are just victims of circumstance... we better remember we are all a circumstance away from being there too and they are people too who had lives and families and are now just trying to survive.

[Coyote Poetry]

A lot of people have given up and lost their way. You made many strong points in this poem. When you have nothing to lose. War and politics don't mean too much to you. A excellent poem. A outstanding and true view of the streets in your words.
Coyote