Decay gnaws at a country church.
It's homeless; it's lost its congregation.
Molting stones crumble, eroding away.
Mice nibble at the altar.
Winds twine through cracks.
Rain and dew drip through.
Roof slates slip down.
Each year it's more decrepit.
As nature slowly moves in.
Edges made to endure,
fracture, collapsing into rubble.
Plinths and buttresses
forsake their faith.
Agnostic shadows creep in.
As nature resumes,
its inscrutable ways.
Bells corrode into silence.
Tongues stilled in the throat of dome.
Hymns survive only as echoes in
whistling drafts through splintered rafters.
The pews sag like tired suspenders,
long unbent in prayer.
Rain scrawls psalms on walls,
scripted in mildew and moss.
Stained glass panels drop down
into the rubbish and weeds.
Crossbeams become bird-nest perches,
for swallows and doves, now the choir.
This homeless house of God laments
in the nettles, thorns and briers.
Seeking nature’s absolution
for its forsaken ruin.
A scar upon the land.
A desolate homeless being.
A blot on the earth.
Public Corruption
During, prior and passed the handling of homeless surplus, and perhaps it requires the specifics of stating, only homeless surplus, there was no evaporation nor limitation to the law ordering the handling of the homeless installation of surplus housing money, earmarked only for the ability to acquire buildings for the homeless who are landlords in California worth 100's of millions of dollars in every city of California.
No penny may be touched by another in language or otherwise. There will be no lawful adjust of the penny in homeless surplus.
It’s a truism that you get what you pay for
Or vote for or ultimately what you deserve…
But when we pay illegal immigrants
To stay in five star hotels with pre-paid debit cards
And the homeless to just hang out with food stamps,
Cash handouts and Obama phones
What do we expect will happen
But for the problem to grow!
And so we watch a nation crumble
Under the weight of its own excesses
Fueled by bleeding hearts,
With blood collected in taxes
And just poured into the streets
And down the drain.
Where does it end you wonder,
Wherever the sewer takes US.
(9/7/25)
trepidation becomes a crime,
when you're homeless
and taking up room,
in the warmth
of the lamp-lights
to stay safe,
where there's cameras,
The corporations
regard you worse than
a police horse's deed
The late night
of clubbing on the beat
and I'm not talking
the choir of a night scene
but those so wearily
and just trying to sleep,
told to move on to where
but anywhere but illuminating,
sink into the foul darkness
you don't pay any taxes,
They're so empty
of empathy
in deadened souls
and once loyalty
and hundreds
of thousands
money taken
greedily
are buried to
pockets.
Face,
Frozen to concrete river
The rest,
Has fallen through the pavement cracks
Will not be found ever
Whenever troubles come my way.
I turn to God and begin to pray.
There is nothing he can't do.
And he always has come through.
With God I'll never lose the fight.
Because he always makes things right.
Whether the battle is people or my mind.
I ask Him to fight for me every time.
Let me share a fact that's true.
God does this for me and He'll do it for you!
Our human feelings, we can't always trust.
But in God we can, in fact we must!
He created earth, sun, moon and sky.
He also is the Creator of you and I.
He spoke minds of humans, saying "Write my Book!"
Now He whispers to our hearts saying "Take a look!"
Whenever trouble comes upon you or me.
Run straight to God, he'll set you free.
Without troubles no one would care.
Whether or not our God was there.
Troubles are test that he sends to you.
That tells us it's Him we should return to.
a hooligan cat homeless& t a t t e r e d
hungry&lurking on my porch quite b a t t e r e d
a bitten ear&one closed eye
the other so blue that it made me- sigh !
I brought him in& soon my home was s h a t t e r e d
but in time he loved me&I loved him too - sigh !
“Wherever I lay my hat”, he said
Inferring home was there.
A state of belonging bound in felt
Anchored in darkest millinery.
He had his hat; his hat was home.
The putrid hostel beds and often doorways
Always home to him,
Never mind the ice-cold fingers,
Ripping at his worn sleeping bag
Storm after storm assaulted the city.
He was warm within himself.
He had his hat; his hat was home.
A security blanket, nursing his psyche
Hiding him away from the hideous reality
Where the discarded homeless was a norm.
Society, uncaring, dismissed him with a glance,
Pouring hateful derision his way
He had his hat; his only home.
famished
it didn’t seem quite right
the sign over his left shoulder said
‘fine arts & framing’
while his unframed cardboard read
‘famished’
his empty cup told the story
and one man named ‘simon’
felt that he was a disciple of jesus
before he became peter when jesus said
“on this rock i will build my church.”
and now, peter…or perhaps simon
slept
and the ‘rock’ upon which he slept
was cement
as people walked by
unaware that in his dreams
was the church
a gentle caressing rain
in the bottom of the beggar’s cup was the only sound
no coins, only hollow tunes
echoed by the cascading groan of hunger
empty cups,
sidewalks for a bed
hunger
thirst
and the church walks by
on cement
matthew 16:18
“and i also say to you that you are peter, and on this rock i will build my church, and the gates of hades shall not prevail against it.”
tolbert
tin cup music
life’s story was etched on her face
carved with pocket-knife memories
rubbed in with grammar school erasers
and colored like heavy wet fog
on a stinson beach winter’s morning
.
smiles were kept tucked in her pocket
until a coin rang out like handel’s messiah
hitting the bottom of her tin cup
a reminder of how far she had fallen
in a life written like a fourteen-line sonnet
noise from darkened streets and shadowed corners
became comforting street sounds
as she curled in her coarse wool army blanket
now clutched to her chin and pushed by her toes
until she found sleep in her cocoon of warmth
.
then a little girl jumped on chalk-drawn squares
skipped rope and laughed while running into the wind
and peeking around corners in games of hide and seek
oh, she chased her puppy and hugged her kitten
in dreams constructed with yesterday’s pieces
awakened, she wondered when she last cried
tears no longer fell easily
and the gurgling complaints in her belly
reminded her that morning erased dreams
as easily as dreams erased the pain of living
tolbert
We see but grey where once was green
As bulldozers now scrape,
Turning a joyful rural scene
Into joyless landscape.
The area was green-belt land
With forest and pasture
But as our numbers still expand
We will invade nature.
And so that farmland must give way
To high profit housing.
Farming that land has had its day.
Let the plunder begin.
First rip up each ancient hedgerow,
Take living loam away.
Make space for luxury homes to go.
The wildlife then must stray.
Nests and burrows can play no part
As man now owns this space.
The construction work now can start
And big profits then chase.
Soon building projects in full swing.
The stream that filled the pond
Diverted to concrete piping
In culvert underground.
Aquatic habitats destroyed.
Frogs, toads and newts homeless.
Many wildlife species now void.
But man could not care less.
Footsteps fade where sidewalks end,
stories told in weathered skin.
Cardboard kingdoms, borrowed ground,
a life unseen, without a sound.
The city hums, its lights embrace,
yet shadows slip between its grace.
Hands once held, now pockets bare,
eyes that search, but find no stare.
The wind knows names the world forgets,
whispers woven in regrets.
A resting place beneath the sky—
another night, still asking why.
Missed the ones
Not seen
Sleeping in the culvert
By the stream
Sounds carrying
Rodents scurrying
The ones not seen
Furry
Measuring each tiny step
Silence thundering on
Quietly rising
Carrying on
Doing what must
To fit in
Belong
Surviving
The multitude reaching out
Missing the ones
Not seen
Unheard in a silent scream
NO HOME
I turn to you for help
You turn your face away from me
I turn to you in tears
You act like you can't see.
Can't you see me turn to you
Can't you see my tears
Can't you see my pleas for help
To wash away these fears.
I call to you in desperate plight
You turn as if you want to fight
I turn to you once again
All you do is push me away.
Can you hear me calling you
Can you hear me call your name
Can’t yiu see my desperate pleas
Can you not push me away.
Why don’t you listen to me
Is it because I have no home
Why can’t you just try and see
Why I feel so alone.
I call to you for help
I call to you once again
I see your face change colour
I can also see your shame.
My Home
here is my home
this is all I own
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