civilrights/votingrights/democracyreform
update on communication of opinion with senator warren
constitutional means and measure as provided in description of property
antitrust boredom
petrol
the contemporary lobbying for additional police
in policy writing equates
to the value of ignition of petrol
rather than the clerical error correction
of a homeless person becoming american
that prepaid property of the citizen is in trial
as evidence at the moment
exiting a sealed indictment for all
of those who accepted the transaction
ill gotten gains
from the ill in the streets
knowingly watching americans die
while issuance of wealth was described
in due process
allowance of interpretation of placement
of individual case by case of medical need
present day has concluded process of intelligent quotient ability
of laws to enforce death certificates as an economic
recovery interest in the mortality of exposure sector
of mathematical finite means for speech.
civil rights as commodity?
#civilrights #commodity #zen #buddhism
Pro Life
Miracle Man Thoughts
2/11/2022
A bonnet of darkness shrouds the room,
and In early mornings hush I sit alone,
dredging names and images from my past.
While picking through scraps of colorless dreams,
I endeavor to match names to faces,
crowded out by thoughts God has placed before me.
The homeless person that has no passion,
The grateful sparrow that begs for cornbread crumbs,
And the fetus that some other has decided
will never have a life story to tell.
Feet planted on city sidewalks, body folds with in, another homeless person
in need of a friend.
They're cropping up in alley ways, cluttering urban streets, belongings now in
shopping carts, at night on grates to sleep.
Yet another soup kitchen, our shameless omission.
Passersby walk fast with eyes that avert, desensitized to reality,
superior in their self-worth.
Some offer up spare change like their dogs begging treats and head
back to their insulated homes, their duty it completes.
Our nomad loners, societal leeches, ever destined to roam, humanity breaches expelling it's own.
Someday
the singer of the song assures me
through my car’s speakers
things will be easier
brighter
Someday
Someday
Someday…
I spent decades believing
that bunkum
holding fast to hope each evening
my someday would arrive
with the next sunrise
Someone would rub the sleep
from their eyes
so that they could see
something special in me
fortune finally turning to smile my way
as I worked my ass off
merely to survive
while waiting patiently
as the clock kept on ticking
and the calendar kept flipping
Time running in rivulets through my fingers
Someday never came
for the cancer patient who died today
or the homeless person who passed away
tucked into their torn and tattered
sleeping bag under the overpass
to shield them from the rain
For the battered child whose
broken body was discovered
dumped in a ditch
For all those who chose this day
to put an end to their pain
How I loathe that song
though I still sing along
What sort of homeless person would I be
Would I cart all these books everywhere with me
Would I scream and shout to keep the world at bay
Or would I nod and smile by my tin cup each day
Would I dress real well, try to look like a swell
Or would I let myself go, not put on a show
Would I turn to drugs or would I stick with booze
What would I have to lose
Would I rant and rave about equality
And how you look right through me
Or would I understand -
you need to keep what you’ve got
You don’t want to land in this spot
Would I have any hope, would there be any rope
Gone are the jobs that kept the unlucky on track
Now the squirrels are on crack, the humans on smack
The armpit of L.A. gets hairier by the day
My boat rocks gently under a reddening sun,
is it wrong to wish for a Viking burial,
to ponder a last journey West
into the dying light?
Strangers have always been my friends,
they intuit
the liquid and inflammable nature
of this thing we do.
I could rest my soul here in this skiff
on this one long warm wave of evening;
let the wooded lands and sloping meadows,
the dredged, smoke-stacked barge brimming ports,
the patched up river towns slip on by
under the kindling sails of evening clouds.
I am laid out like a homeless person
bundled up in my rags and tinder,
a shadow in a small boat, drifting.
Night falls to the water
the words of strangers flame high
fire starters and their poems gleaming
as the dark rushes in.
I hitch the boat to a stump of land,
still imagining a Viking funeral,
but also resigned to a tomorrow -
yet another strange place
to play with this fire.
Love +Love= Life and beauty. He writes on with his pen as he solves this equation. This world is filled with so much hate and cruelty. He shows his mathematics expertise and scratches his head while thinking. Their is only one hope, one God and one truth that he sees. He wants to past his math test. He tries to solve his next problem. He is a preacher and shares the word to the rest. He is caring and has a light that shines. He is in the streets helping a homeless person. This man is not too hard to find. He goes to the hospital later. He wears his mask to stop the spread of covid19. His wife just gave birth to their child in the incubator. His heart is filled with peace and wonder. When he goes home he gets ready for bed. While he sleeps he hears the sound of rain and thunder.
Positivity is a good feeling to have. Helping others and thinking positive thoughts is like helping a homeless person and feeling like you did the right thing. When people are positive they make other people around them feel happy and appreciative. Positivity is a powerful ingredient that you should have in your resume. People love you more when you are positive. It brings good healthy vibes all around us. Remember we can all change the world just by thinking positive. So just be positive!!
To live a life of poverty and ease,
done purposely with no regard for time,
and no intent to leave a life of sleaze
in tent on sidewalk, ought to be a crime.
Should freedom let a homeless person choose
to pitch a tent in a commercial zone?
Or should our city government excuse
unlawful actions, leaving them alone?
It seems to me if I must mow my lawn,
and paint my house to keep it looking good,
then they should have to pitch their tent upon
a spot approved--a homeless neighborhood.
A city should have rules and special place,
for homeless people needing their own space.
Who must you be honest with?
What is the meaning of honestly?
When is it right to lie n hurt on purpose?
Where can we find real honesty?
Why is honesty so important in life?
Who are you running from?
What are you running from?
When is it time to turn and fight?
Where is your inner courage?
Why has it taken so long to turn n fight?
Who are the real victims of society?
What is a proper society?
When will society repay the victims?
Where will a broken society take us?
Why is our society so broken?
Who can help a homeless person with nothing in return?
What does that mean to that homeless person?
When can we start to help, not just a homeless person, anyone?
Where does this homeless person go to eat?
Why can't this homeless person get off the streets?
Who ever has the strength and courage should fight to fix and better our broken society!
What ever needs to be done must be done!
When ever we start we can never stop!
Where ever we must go to do this, we must go!
Why you ask? Because it's the right thing to do!
So let's talk about mental illness,
If it's not too taboo
So what is the problem...
Let's talk about you.
I don't want to talk to anyone
Though if given the chance...
I'm a homeless "person"
Due to circumstance.
One said you won't talk to anyone
Were you waiting for me-
To have this little chat..
Intentionally?
To me...something really bad happened,
You You were never there
It makes me really sad,
Like..you really care...
Like everyone- you have some issues
I'm sure you will be fine
Now enough about you
Let's talk about mine...
We are all a product of our environment
Under different influences
Each one of us could have been a terrorist or a man of God
A President or a homeless person sleeping in the street
It's the luck of the draw... or is it
Are we not in charge of our own destiny
Can we not overcome the trials that life has in store for us
To become an upstanding individual to be proud of
Whether rich in monetary terms
Or just rich in the ways of living
The ability to reach out and change someone's life
To make another person happy
Is there any greater reward or feeling of satisfaction than that
They say everyone was put here on earth for a reason
Whether it's a lofty world changing event
Or just an act of kindness towards those the less fortunate souls
It matters not, we have made a difference
So next time you question your purpose here on earth
Just remember... even the simplest act of kindness
Is richly rewarded and never forgotten
Are spiritual beings that are on assignment to protect us,
Never are we alone,we just may not notice when they appear
God sent them to warn us of dangers and calamities up ahead.
Even throughout the day they may appear in human form
Looking like a homeless person or a beggar on the street
So next time we treat folk mean remember it may be an angel
Alexis Y.
9-7-16
Inspired by the Angel Contest
Written In Beige
Against the bleak bank wall he leans
as the sidewalk moves sideways
across his tangential thoughts.
People pass, the dull parade,
the money-grubbers and hoarders
in their shiny suits that mock
his existence. Sad clouds meld
into a sullen gray sky…it must be raining
somewhere. Clink! Silver coin
rattles metal can. He wonders, when
did the colours disappear?
The pungent aroma from Mickey’s
Taco Wagon punishes his senses
and his eyes begin to leak. He’s hungry.
There was a time when his words
were golden, a rainbow of passion.
He had a family, people who loved him.
A November wind kicks him…no, wait!
Security guard motions as another
peers from behind motion-sensing
cameras. Not wanted. He disappears
next to the discoloured taupe wall.
The mystery: how did his life story
get written in beige?
*Note: this is written in honour of a homeless poet named Raimundo Arruda Sobrinho but, in essence, for every homeless person.
I feel the spirit of Christmas all around me
The spirit of Christmas is in the air
Especially during December
The spirit of Christmas is all around me
It’s buying coffee or tea for a homeless person to warm their insides
It’s writing a letter to a friend or relative
It’s knitting and crocheting and then giving your knitted and crocheted items to the needy
It’s giving your time to volunteer
The spirit of Christmas
It’s all around me
it gives me chills and makes me smile
I feel the spirit of Christmas all around me
The spirit of Christmas is in the air
The spirit of Christmas is all about contributing to society and making a difference one step at a time
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.