13 Mayhem Street

Written by: Ray Angelo Ong

A few meters from me is a man
on the breadline; secluded; a beggar—
with his cluttered suit and long parched hair—
add to that a greasy hand
        beseeching silvers from the people
        wryly staring at him 
        (at the life he didn’t choose) as they pass by;
        but no one seemed to mind.

At the other flank of the street is a soul—
murdered; guillotined; a victim—
amid her blood-smeared gown
she has been sauntering back and forth:
        pleading for justice
        (and perhaps searching for her head);
        but how could people help out,
        they couldn’t notice her.

Above me is a bird—
homeless; ravenous; a sufferer
of men’s egotistical doings.
Now he has nowhere to go—
        no trees to put up a nest;
        (and possibly, no bird of the same feather);
        and a breeze of infected air—
        all because no one seemed to care.

As the day turned into night—
uplifted; inspired; a noble man I became,
by these enormous stories I witnessed
that only few are able to see.