New elections, new President, new promises, new new new, NEW?
I thought that Nam was the bastard son of a few politicians, but then, we got twice Iraq.
We thought that the Nam Veterans were unique, a castaways from a unpopular war that the same politicians wanted to disassociate with by offering the Veterans as a sacrificial offers.
But, now Iraq?, twice? and the new Veterans being the castaways of another unpopular war?
America, please, wake up, don't sleep through the nightmare!

Enter the cement jungle where all is lost,
gentle shadows tiptoeing after the sun dead,
perhaps afraid to be seen and to be mugged,
by the same thugs that the sun had beheaded
leaving the horizon bleeding in crimson hues,
dying, outside a city that doesn’t care.

Meander unknown streets, like going nowhere,
because that’s the direction of homelessness,
cold will push, perhaps with unneeded hurry
to go in searching of a street without a name,
for a home that never was there, or it was,
now it has been washed away by the years.

All possession in one squeaking shopping cart,
rags for clothes, leaking shoes, wearing old dirt,
moving, always moving, through a blind world
holding is very open seeing eyes from them avert,
from the ones pushing a rusting shopping cart
on a full of people the most empty of all deserts.

Pushing one’s life contents in bit and pieces
among retrieved bits and pieces discarded
from other lives, holding to too many little things
that no matter how much one wish can’t be taken,
as the last pair of our shoes give up their soul
when our walking through those streets end.


Veteran on a wheelchair, shopping cart soldier,
your country forgot the promises that were given,
and now someone tired is pushing you like
those bit and pieces of homelessness unwanted
by the ones that where so proud of your will
to answer the call of the Hymn of a Nation’s battle.

Enter the cement jungle where all is lost among
so many souls going by everyday without a care,
summer will give you the grass of the parks and
in winter the blessed warmth of a subway vent,
doesn’t matter if you are pushing a shopping cart,
or are an Honorable Veteran in a wheelchair.