The cabbies are out to pick up the drunks The wanderers too but going nowhere The poets the paranoids and the punks Are smoking and some are on fire out there Or here in this case we do what we do In this hollow place dreams never come true
We laugh artificially but we weep Down deep in hurt hearts as cops warily Shine us their spotlights while businessmen sleep Tossing and turning with worries of war And how it might hurt their economy They have all the money but they want more
Their shiny brass lamps shine elegantly But they shed no light just darkness and dread Tomorrow is another day they say I may look horrid but I am no whore I never cared for money anyway Facing foreclosure and forced removal
A homecoming in solidarity With the homeless hooker by the bookstore Talking back to the voices in her head Spare change please spare me your disapproval She was once a solid citizen too I heard her hurt and this is what it said:
"A professional prostitute like you Gets black and blue getting out of the red" A businessman wakes in a cold sweat now In his expensive adjustable bed He saw outside in his nightmare somehow Some look alive but inside they are dead
Great poem Steven. Humanity is crying out for love, not judgment. This was the message I picked up from this. If only people would look deeper than skin. Money certainly does not maketh the man.
Thanks for sharing.
Chanti
very powerful and moving. the human spirit survives and yet others see that as just lower than themselves. poetry like this should be published in the mainstream media to shed more light on this ever growing darker chapter of our society. People have desensitized their emotions toward the homeless and that truly is a negative mark on our character.
Steven,
Outstanding poetry...brillant. You have captured the feeling of the homeless. I can feel the despair of the prostitutes who are crying inside for a better life, but prostitution is all they know and they don't feel they are worth anything more. This poetry is awesome, my friend.
(Self-published. Please contact author directly to order.)
Enter the pages of diaspora in quiet introspection. Bathe your thoughts with subtle humor; synchronize your spirit-sense with history-in-heat; fall headlong with eyes wide open into
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Thanks for sharing.
Chanti
Outstanding poetry...brillant. You have captured the feeling of the homeless. I can feel the despair of the prostitutes who are crying inside for a better life, but prostitution is all they know and they don't feel they are worth anything more. This poetry is awesome, my friend.
Many blessings,
~Linda
Reindeer
Hugs, Laura
Powerfully penned; well done!
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.