THE HOMELESS POET

A homeless poet

Have no lyrics

To warm his heart

On a winter’s night

And yet,

He can’t keep

Quiet

As his visions

Reach down

Deep

Into the blackness

Of life.

Whose soul

Will he save,

While fighting

For his own:

Stirring a lonely

Coffee,

Fitting the pieces

Of a puzzle

Called hope…

A homeless poet

No longer

Sees the beauty

In the light

And people

Are no more

Human beings

Just empty containers

Filled with vanity

And fear,

As their

Whole culture

Hang and swing

From a haunting oak,

Watching

The family and friends

Hide and scream

“Oh damn what a shame!”

The poet

Just offers a smile

In sadness

Pondering,

Is it ever going

To end,

Because his love

And message

Was his only sin…

He glances

At the tawdry

Tombstone

That bares his name

And shudders,

‘Cause there is no end date;

Realizing,

His pain,

Is incurable,

His joy,

Is immeasurable,

His God,

Infallible,

Shaking his head

In a slight daze

With a hint

Of ironic disgust.

Again he smiles,

For he can not

Even find a home

In a solemn

Empty

Grave!!!

© 2010