Being homeless is a hell of a way
To take the air or get a tan or stay
Attuned to the inside-outness of things
Along with the upside-downness this brings
To the perspective of the indoor-bred
Forced thus to think about each night each day
When a bench in the park becomes a bed
And no one gives you orders anymore
Where a lost life becomes a memory
You have to forget to ever be free
So fight to forget what you once fought for
Which is easier than remembering
The shame clinging to you like dew all night
Forgetting seems the most important thing
Being homeless is a hell of a way
To live but more popular every day
There is more to it than just being poor
And although often caused by addiction
Sometimes some existential conviction
Makes someone feel called to go wandering
In search of inscrutable destiny
Blow with the wind and leave nothing behind
But traces which few non-homeless can see
No roof but the skull which prisons the mind
(And maybe that bottle under the tree)
I never want this to happen to me
Yet there are those who come through it all right
If you are home stay in and lock the door
Lest you end up out here remembering
Forgetting seems the most important thing
Liked your presentation at beginning of the site. It was nice to start reading before anything else and having them pop up like you presented them. Will certainly take time for the others. happy Easter.
Heartbreaking - few realize how close they are from homelessness - one job firing - one illness - one catastrophe - thisclose. Powerfully penned thought provoker - thank you, Steven.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Reviewed by Gianetta Ellis (Reader)
Reviewed on March 6, 2008
"Sometimes some existential conviction
Makes someone feel called to go wandering
In search of inscrutable destiny"........these words are breathtaking. Your writing is grand.
A Collection of Voices from Around the World is more than just a poetry compilation. It is a partnership of poets from around the globe brought together by an internet poetry forum. That forum, poetrypages.com, has been the home of many a fine poet s
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
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(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Makes someone feel called to go wandering
In search of inscrutable destiny"........these words are breathtaking. Your writing is grand.