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        TOO SOON A SPITTOON 

Somehow he has survived
Through due diligence and by sequestering his soul off the corner of “Hate Street” and “Greed 
Avenue.  
From a muddled maze in a mind blinded by disregard his need to be alone, separated, and  
segregated t’was birthed this one particular day
For who are these indignant egoists and arrogant folk who espy and declare him and his kind as 
being freaks?
And then one day, he speaks
He draws them a portrait of the random shame he should not feel but does
And the transience of triumph 
a born again preacher was preaching at last
Without the subsequent desire to dwell on his past
“I whom you deem a leper, a vagrant, an outcast holds wisdom in my left hand’s grip

And in my right is insight for the fabric of society that can quite easily rip

Well  you need not waste your time with stares and glares at one you label liable for your 
losses and responsible for retroactive retribution with a requisite requirement of dealing with 
perpetual pain
While dosing out disdain

One by one his audience arrived
And still I ask how has this man survived
To affirm his notion of noticeable neglect
While acts of kindness should muffle retribution
Yet no one will think of considering a contribution
Nay not coinage nor dollar bills
Instead he begs let kindness be what humanity wills
And kills the desire to aim one’s spittle at this face who faces you with culpability restrained
“For as I already mentioned I  am perpetually pained
But never taken aback by all that which all you lack
And in the foundation you’ve forged of concrete and tears there is a crack
A fissure from which is born every frown at me well aimed
Yet I will no longer be ashamed
Because that’s how it all begins”
As he is denied smiles, laughter and grins
Since you will  not refrain from granting him something other than your hostility”
And that was the first day the crowd witnessed his ability
With wayward words which settled in the ears of fears and idle conversation
Because that’s how it all begins
By stating obvious observations to the masses of asses and their illicit sins
The husband and father, a man with his secretary and their afternoon indiscretions
And  internal infections
The brand of bondage only brutality bears
And so no longer wouldst the preacher suffer saliva and stares
  © 2011.…..Poefree and whoever you are who co-wrote this with me..hope it was acceptable)
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