HOMELESS

Happy Christmas

Happy Christmas

By jfarrell

 

Happy Christmas to you all.

What does Christmas mean to you?

 

A red suited gentleman and his menagerie

Breaking into your home and eating all your mince pies?

A tinseled christmas tree

With a golden, silver-winged angel sat atop?

Sat around the dining table,

With several generations of your family?

Pulling crackers, carving and sharing the turkey;

Too much food and playing charades after dinner?

A baby born into poverty many years ago,

To grow, to be crucified for us?

Awake all night, too excited to sleep….

If I stay awake, even just one eye… I might see santa…

 

Whatever Christmas means to you…

The very merriest of Christmas’s and may the next year be your best yet.

 

And if, like me, you’re alone…

Or worse…

Sleeping on the streets…

And where-ever’s worse than that…..

 

Don’t give up!

You’re not alone, however much you feel you are.

Christmas is the time for miracles…

Don’t give up!

 

Happy christmas to you all and the best year ever!

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

a very very merry Christmas to everyone, and may this coming year be your best yet, in every way ;-)

If…

If…

By jfarrell

 

   (in regards to Rudyard Kipling’s masterpiece)

 

If…

You’re still standing, after all this time;

After all these many battles and defeats;

If…

When they rub salt in your wounds,

You can lick it out and spit it back at them;

If….

When they kick your legs from under you, you get up;

Because you’re too stupid to stay down;

If…

 

If only life had been nicer;

Seaside and ice cream;

Hugs and kisses from mum and dad

 

But…

But a lot of things;

And none of them matter

After all this time.

 

If…

If you can’t get even, get drunk;

So drunk, how much it hurts don’t matter;

If…

You’re sleeping ‘out’ tonight;

Keep warm, it’s gonna be a cold one;

If…

I, we, all cared more,

And life was very different from what it is;

If….

John Lennon invited us to imagine;

And we could all imagine that dream enough to share it.

 

What if….?

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

i hope if was rudyard kipling, or i really messed that up, hehe :-) i relly should check my stuff first

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are you there

Are you there?

By jfarrell

 

Are you there?

Really?

I hope so.

I think we all need saving;

I know I do.

 

If,

You’re there,

Please come soon.

 

Before North Korea strikes back,

They might really be that crazy;

Before ISIS strike again;

Before another bomb is dropped on another country.

 

Before the bailiffs come;

Before I lose my home;

Before I sleep on the streets.

 

If,

You’re there,

Please come soon.

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

i hope they are there, looking down, so loved HG Wells

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Drift

" The Decline of Everything Collection ." Dark literature for a Diminishing World . "
Pendleton, Oregon   May 2015


Drift


The part of me under stress
drenched in urban , post traumatic duress.
Family`s death
wife left
life diminishes with every breath
now the cracked foundation
of the interstate holds less.


I am in search of a hearse ,
of death I am not averse.
Point the barrel at my brain ,
watch the temple topple
burst in pain .
In vain I search for a way out
of the dreams
of ashen
and polluted
rain ,
where others fall
as I climb
denying my gain .


The whole of me under stress
as I contemplate the terminal duress.
The hopeless drifter
highway litter
feet blistered
body shivers
I am a stranger
amid a twister

quiet as a whisper .

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Drift

" The Decline of Everything Collection ." Dark literature for a Diminishing World . "
Pendleton, Oregon   May 2015


Drift


The part of me under stress
drenched in urban , post traumatic duress.
Family`s death
wife left
life diminishes with every breath
now the cracked foundation
of the interstate holds less.


I am in search of a hearse ,
of death I am not averse.
Point the barrel at my brain ,
watch the temple topple
burst in pain .
In vain I search for a way out
of the dreams
of ashen
and polluted
rain ,
where others fall
as I climb
denying my gain .


The whole of me under stress
as I contemplate the terminal duress.
The hopeless drifter
highway litter
feet blistered
body shivers
I am a stranger
amid a twister

quiet as a whisper .

View sinisterbeast72's Full Portfolio

Drift

" The Decline of Everything Collection ." Dark literature for a Diminishing World . "
Pendleton, Oregon   May 2015


Drift


The part of me under stress
drenched in urban , post traumatic duress.
Family`s death
wife left
life diminishes with every breath
now the cracked foundation
of the interstate holds less.


I am in search of a hearse ,
of death I am not averse.
Point the barrel at my brain ,
watch the temple topple
burst in pain .
In vain I search for a way out
of the dreams
of ashen
and polluted
rain ,
where others fall
as I climb
denying my gain .


The whole of me under stress
as I contemplate the terminal duress.
The hopeless drifter
highway litter
feet blistered
body shivers
I am a stranger
amid a twister

quiet as a whisper .

View sinisterbeast72's Full Portfolio

The homeless are not bums!

You do something that's really dumb.

Every day you call homeless people bums.

Like me and you, they're human beings.

But that's something you have trouble seeing.

What you say about the homeless really does suck.

You have no right to look down on people just because they're down on their luck.

When you see what they go through, you show no concern.

They need our help, maybe one day you'll finally learn.

Certain people won't help the homeless because it's not politically correct.

You and those people better start learning that homeless people deserve respect.

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Significance

 

........


(photo from usnews.nbcnews.com)


She wanted so much more,

Because private schooling

And a 200 square foot closet

Is not enough space,

For a heart that wants to feel

What life is really like.


What life is really like

Is when she walked into the dark,

And ate leftover twinkies

From rat-ridden garbage cans,

Where stray cats would claw 

Beneath the emptiness she felt.


Beneath the emptiness she felt,

The place where her memories began,

A place with lace-draped windows,

Gourmet meals, french pedicures,

Maids that emptied her trashcans,

And that became her dinnerplate.


And that became her dinnerplate,

Among a cluttered street,

In summertime the air was sweet,

Rotten fruit she couldn't eat,

And then awakened by a garbage truck,

As rodents scurried by.


As rodents scurried by 

A passing stranger sat to cry,

No more than twenty yards away,

She watched another left to die,

Then reminisced of life now passed,

She asked herself, but why?


She asked herself, but why

Is someone born into this life?

And me, another child the same 

Born with affluence so rife?

So ill prepared to see the truth,

She wanted so much more.


 

1:22 AM 8/2/2013  ©


............

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Photo is not of my creation.

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No Place For An Angel

 

The cold wind claws at innocent skin

The tummy aches for food so thin

Cradled at her mother’s breast

Her young life is her greatest test

 

Dressed for summer in winter’s height

Dressed in rags, so cold all night

No home to rest all snug and warm

To ignore their plight is our poor form

 

Their faces plead a cry for help

We only care for our own self

The homeless pass like ships at night

A sight unseen by our careless sight

 

They eat worse than we give our pets

Meals from a bin as good as it gets

Our waste it is our badge of shame

We see no wrong, we’re not to blame

 

Her young life passes from our world

Her mother mourns her little girl

No value placed upon their lives

When in our view, we closed our eyes

 

This work is copyright. Apart from any use permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced by any process, nor may any other exclusive right be exercised, without the permission of Neville John Gourley,2 Sarah Court, Capalaba, Queensland 4157, dated 13-05-2013.

 

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