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(Meme of Mathemagenic).

 
 

The coalition on homelessness in San Francisco publishes the “Street Sheet” newspaper, which is then sold by homeless folk, who earn money this way. The last issue is all devoted to poetry, written by SF homeless population and probably by coalition volunteer stuff. Here are a couple of poems I like.

The homeless

Ten men clamber out of the creaking van,
Their sweaty bodies meeting a kiss
Of cool night air.
They drift, silently, sullenly
Toward the darkened church.
Mattresses lie, two or three to a room,
Along walls decorated with children’s
Drawings and almost casual crucifixions.
Carl, Eddie, Jake and the others
Throw their worn packs and bags
Onto the makeshift beds, and John,
It’s always John, is first to ask
If he can have his sack lunch now,
Not in the morning as we had planned.
“Sure,” I say, almost as anxious as he
To assuage this remediable hunger.
Several echo John, and soon all
Are feasting on pb and j; apples, celery,
And other healthy fare remains on the table,
But they’re happier now, even communicative.
One thanks me for setting a new pair of white socks
On each mattress. Another offers a juice cup
To a friend. “Lights out!” Rick calls at ten,
And no one argues, no one hesitates. Sleep
Knits once more the raveled sleeve of care,
Obliterates the hurt, soothes the jangled nerves.
Tomorrow will be another day,
Another cheerless day embroidered
With small triumphs, fragile dreams.

Don Foran

One check away

twinkling stars cant keep you warm
when your sleeping in the park till he break of dawn
newspaper pillow and a plastic tarp
watching for he pigs that come out after dark

lost your job got jacked and robbed
your landlord said thats not my prob
doctor bills kill you cant afford the pills
now youre shaking heart breaking drink as much as you spill

waiting on the first to quench your thirst
alleviate the discomfort of an asphalt earth
trying to find a shelter to get some rest
but nowhere seems safe without a knife proof vest

if you could just get back to square one
start to heal the disease thats got you on the run
feeling invisible going insane
scowls and nightsticks fall like rain

James Chionsini


One Day (Harry O) I ain't lonely, I just live on my own I ain't homeless, I just ain't got a home I ain't alcoholic I just drink what we got I ain't lost, I just don't know the way I ain't saying nothing else Because i don't know what to say But one day....
It's not a lark sleeping in the parl as you go walking by Though i'm praying for my wings s you look, with your blind eye. FOr who gives homes to garden gnomes While their brothers and sisters cry So give us a break for heaven's sake Because we're not made of stone And you know the world will be a better place When everyone has a home
A doplet of rain falls from the sky. As i mingle with passers by. And i simply relax my poor old brain. As the traffic is on the move again. This is the start of a perfect day. The city is just ten miles away. And i think of the joy a nice walk brings. To the heart of a boy as the blackbird sings. I slept in peace all through the night. With some anada geese on internal flight. And another mile has slipped on by. In the easy style of a winking eye. Well my body parts are all on the move. And my beating heart's right in the groove. And when i arrive i'll have biscuits and tea. Great god i'm alive oh lucky me.
I really like this poem a lot. It is not only explaining the hardship of being homeless, but in detail as well. I like when poets have detail because i know a lot more of where the person is coming from. Very nice. Keep writing.
when you say go home, im racking ma dome. cos there aint no home for me
being homeless is like feeling your an ant no one cares no one loves people love stepping on you but if you thought about how it feels staying one night you would kill yourself people i recovered from being a (as they say whino) so can everyone who shared night with the concrete be wise and care for your self
http://www.SpareSomeChange.com is the homelessness search engine where you can find resources by state or custom query. Please give this web address to panhandlers and homeless people (they can use free computer/internet at the library). Also, please submit any homeless related websites/URLs so that others may find the help that they need.
What has happened.....they ask when they see me.......I am homeless......they think I did it to myself..........they think I am scum to be put on a shelf........A shelf of denial....a shelf of of pain.......They look down on me as I stand in the rain......For I once too had what you had.........A job , a car, a family too....but that was all taken by no one , not even you.......for I came from the bottom and worked my way too the top.......then by no fault of my own it had to drop.......So here i am as I stand in the rain.....you can look upon me with all the pain.......for no one is safe from this one disease.....Homelessness can happen as fast as you can sneeze......So the next time you see me on the street threadbare, just remember not to judge me for we all can be here...........
your peoms are pretty good, but how about mine? (Homeless Child) I sit, cold and alone on the street, Eyeing a piece of dog chewed meat. Five days I haven't had a bit to eat My stomach aches, my body's weak. The wind that rustles through the trees, Pierces my skin, and all warmth flees. I find shelter with my brother, Lying in the open next to each other. The world has says it cares, But in reality no one dares. The site of me makes them sick. It’s an appearance I do not pick. Please, give me aid, Or from this life I soon will fade.
It's cold out here, still and quiet buisy city streets can't do a thing, had a blanket and some stew, now there's nothing to do... There's an uptown scamp on 4rth, makes 40 an hour... And an uptown thiefs on 5th, does the same thing. I'll sit right here, and if i don't freeze, if i don't die, maybe some day i'll... Have a piece of pie.
RUNAWAY KIDS Runaway kids miles from home live in boxes and doorways of Britain’s capital city. Walking the streets like wily old Foxes, searching for food and people to take pity. Begging in subways and busy street corners To feed their bellies and addicted minds Abused and accused young juvenile Loners, prostitutes, rent boys and other mixed kinds. Round their little fires they ponder Their life, while a drunken tramp Sings a sad song. Guarding their patch with a blade of a knife, stabbing intruders as if nothing’s wrong. www.roots2life.com
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