April 30: Let's Begin on the Streets Where We Are

Let’s Begin on the Streets Where We Are

Don’t show me your ladder that doesn’t make sense!

I could never abide by your rules!

It belongs in some other place; over the fence --

But I live in a culture of indigents

In a web of so many incidents,

And the life of these streets is our school!

In truth, there is much I would wish to achieve,

But I’ve got to begin where I am.

I am not the lost sheep that you want to perceive.

I have much to offer, and much to receive.

I am meant to be here:  That’s what I believe.

Your deferred success is a scam!

It is logical, but boxed in by convention.

I won’t let you predict which way I will turn.

You live by procedures.  I live by invention.

You work with axioms.  I work with exceptions.

When little is sure, it’s about perceptions.

Nothing proscribed, but there’s instincts to learn!

You find a library where you’re free from distraction.

I find a park, where I hang with my buddies!

Can’t back away from the interactions.

Everyone seeking their own satisfaction.

We get some ideas, and then we take action.

Workability’s what I’m out to study!

Death may surround us!  We’re the life of the city.

We’re bound to fall, but we know how to roll.

We don’t all talk straight, or look very pretty.

It’s cold sometimes, and sometimes it’s gritty.

It’s all a challenge to creativity,

Though there are barriers that take their toll -

Like the harsh and arrogant attitudes

Of drowning souls who are too quick to judge,

So whatever we say will be misconstrued.

Some walk in a daze, completely unglued.

Others - belligerent - are downright rude -

Too set in their thinking to budge.

Some fall into drugs and alcohol.

Others think ‘til they go insane.

They feel they’re surrounded by a thousand walls,

Or out on the sea in a screaming squall.

An onlooker tells you to get on the ball.

They go home, but you’ll still remain!

The point’s well taken that you must pay attention

When your world has no lock or key!

Folks won’t always cop to your best intentions.

Sometimes, in the game, there’s no room for pretensions.

Some of my friends have ended up in detention:

What you get when you’re feeling too free!

Every night, we make a collection.

We buy some brewskies and make us a meal.

We’re all of us there for each other’s protection.

There’s no insurance if we get an infection.

We rarely get more than some manly affection,

But sometimes, you gotta say what’s your deal.

You talk about discipline:  So uptight.

It takes all of my focus to remain here and now!

I live your descriptions of black and white.

We follow our dreaming all day and all night.

Still, sometimes our hopes seem to drift out of sight.

We’re swimming, but we don’t know how.

Yes, I need just a little stability.

This street life just tears me apart.

There’s ways to do things.  I need the facility.

Wanna think things out, but I’ve lost the ability.

I try to be strong, but I feel life’s fragility.

I need to heal what’s obstructing my heart!

But don’t show me your ladder that doesn’t make sense!

I could never abide by your rules!

It belongs in some other place; over the fence --

But I live in a culture of indigents

In a web of so many incidents,

And the life of these streets is our school!

April 29: Homelessness - 3 and 4

III.

A shelter could be a safe place to stay,

Or a cesspool of drugs and crime.

All the best shelters are out of the way:

And make sure to be there on time!

And don’t you expect to get much sleep!

For breakfast, it’s grits and an egg.

You better carry what you want to keep.

When you run out of money, you’ll  beg!

You stay out on the streets.

You meet  up with some goon,

And it’s $80 a week

If you want your own room!

Choose between working and something to eat.

Choose between hustling and just working tired.

Choose between planning and the law of the street.

Who can find in these struggles one thing to admire?

I wound up in a seedy neighborhood,

Afraid to carry what’s left of my cash,

And not doing anyone a bit of good.

My clothes are somebody’s trash.

I couldn’t open up a bank account

With my license is from out of state.

With no local address, and so small and amount . . .

I can work it, but I’ve just got to wait.

IV

I am angry.  I’m tired.

i don’t see much enjoyment.  

Work a week and get fired.

Can’t collect unemployment.

I’ll get something cheap to shake up my brain;

Let me dream!  Let me find a new vision!

It’s worth it if it lets me numb my pains,

Or if it helps me to feel my condition!

An officer tells me to get on the move.

A friend says I’m wasting away.

I’m asking myself what I’m trying to prove

By just living from day to day!

Now the question I’m asking -- is “how shall I love?”

What have I to offer my friends?

To see such decay, and rise above it,

Until all of it’s put to an end?

I painted a picture of a ghetto scene;

I quoted an appropriate scripture.

I learned what I could from the places I’ve been.

I ask where people stand in this picture!

I’ve handed out blankets; adopted a pet;

Asked the Mayor to come up with a plan!

I try to surmise what it takes to get set.

I assist where I feel that I can!

Still, I’m trying to be my own best friend!

I want to hook up with a girl!

While I haven’t spare time, I still like to pretend

I can go out and save the world!

The question I’m asking is “Where is the love

When we’re struggling so hard to survive:

So much destruction to rise above, . . .

And be ALIVE amongst the alive!

April 28: Homelessness - 1 and 2

Homelessness

I

These are my brothers

By the soup kitchen door.

Most, and many others,

Are just, plain, and poor.

There’s a young, handsome fella

Who seems a bit subdued.

He doesn’t fuss or beller

When he’s waiting on his food.

But someone’s yelling at the door

With rights he’s got to defend.

The people in the line ignore it

As they do their best to blend.

There’s not a lot to talk about.

Who can you find to trust?

We’ve seen so much pity, fear, and doubt,

False kindness or frank disgust.

Even to myself, I’m another unknown

In the sprawl of this southern city.

But, we all of us have our own kind of alone,

And I wonder who’s really to pity!

Yes, we all of us know rejection!

We all have met with a wall!

I just wonder how we can build that connection

That promises hope for us all!

II

I had heard of the new growth in industry.

I thought, “Yes, there I’ll awaken my dreams!”

Knowing there would be no guarantee,

But adventure was bursting its seams!

“I’ll go where the winters are warm,"

My eyes upon housing construction,

Along with an ever-expanding swarm,

Who had made the same deduction.

“You wouldn’t fit here,” snorted the snob.

“We’ll call you,” blew off the bureaucracy.

“We’ll wait a few weeks to fill this job.”

“You need a background,” intones the technocracy.

So I parked myself at a Labor Pool,

Toughing it out at that minimum wage,

Though my employer treats me like some kind of fool,

When he’s only half my age!

Now I’ve got no phone, and no transportation.

It makes the hunt for work, at best, inefficient.

I must laugh when I’m asked about my real vocation:

I’m just trying to be self-sufficient.

Stumbling home at the end of the day,

My clothes are just reeking with dirt.

I’d get out of this place if I knew the way;

If I wasn’t so lonely and hurt!

April 27: Patty

Patty

On a farm with a big organic garden,
There’s always more to be done,
So you do what you have to, not asking for pardon
In your balance of duty and fun,
Feeling the wind and the sun.

It’s a way of life where you see the fruition
And reap the results of your toil,
And as you do so, you make decisions
On how much to devote to the soil;
What to save and what to let spoil.

What to cook, or freeze, or consign to canning,
And what’s good enough to sell
It’s a process involving hard labor and planning,
And drawing from your spiritual well,
You mull it over sometimes when you’ve got peas to shell,

But what you’ll do, you know you can’t always tell.

With matters like these, you must constantly grapple,
But on the way from the store,
You see a tree over laden with apples,
So you take a break from your chores,
And knock on that home-owner’s door;

Who hasn’t the sensibilities,
The ability or even the time
To do something with his apple trees
And he’s more than grateful to find
A good person who’s so inclined,

Who’s got a ladder that she’s ready to climb.

He’s astonished to hear your enthusiasm
About picking up fruit off the ground,
And you break through social and political chasms
As every year you come around,
And a smile replaces a lonely frown,
And it looks like a friend you have found!

On a farm with a big organic garden,
There’s always more to be done,
So you do what you have to, not asking for pardon
In your balance of duty and fun,
Feeling the wind and the sun,

And working through the rain and the cold.

Sometimes it looks like just another distraction;
A commitment to yet another chore,
But you feel when you put yourself into action,
You’re able to do even more
Towards paying endeavors not thought of before,

Filling needs that you cannot ignore.

And slowly, you build a connection.
You might bake him more than one apple pie!
In a dangerous world, you’ll need protection,
And it pays to diversify.
But that’s not the reason why!
As you do what you love, you get by.

April 26: Glad, Glad, Glad!

Glad, Glad, Glad!

I feel so good since you let me go!
I accept “whatever” in the here and now.

I was caught in a quagmire where I just couldn’t grow.
I’ll be okay, but I don’t know how!

There’s nothing in this world I have to do

After all that I’ve been through.

I’m just so glad, glad, glad, glad, glad, glad, glad -

That I don’t work for you!

I can’t think any more about all my duress.

How I smile to remember when you got in my face!

You just don’t know - how much I feel blessed

Now that I don’t have to work at your place!

You’ve helped me to know what it’s like to be used;

To let go of caring what happens to me!

When my world has been shattered, I have nothing to lose

It just doesn’t matter how distressing the news.

I’m too scattered to say that I’ve paid my dues,

But boss man, do I feel free!

Sure, I’ll do my best

To maintain what I’ve got,

But I’m not obsessed

To be like the rest

Who think life is a test.

It’s not.

(I can still take a shot!)

So if everything in my life breaks down –

My house, my money, my shop - like sand,

And I find myself walking all over town

With no respect, and without a plan,

And I wind up in jail

With no end of trouble,

And my friends all disown me -

I’m still in my bubble

There’s nothing in this world I have to do

After all that I’ve been through.

I’m just so glad, glad, glad, glad, glad, glad, glad -

That I don’t work for you!

I can’t think any more about all my duress.

How I smile to remember when you got in my face!

You just don’t know - how much I feel blessed

Now that I don’t have to work at your place!

Just knowing your idiot job is gone,

Where I’ve already walked that extra mile

That just kept going on and on:

Just knowing it’s over is making me smile!

Whatever happens from here on out

(I know I’m not in the least bit prepared),

There’s no room anymore in my world for doubt.

I’m just that grateful that I’m not there!

There’s nothing in this world I have to do

After all that I’ve been through.

I’m just so glad, glad, glad, glad, glad, glad, glad -

That I don’t work for you!

April 25: The Plan

The Plan

There is a plan.  There are standards,

All with reasons we strive to understand

And to carry out gracefully,

Even when we know we will fail

To do all that is required.

That's why we were hired.

Yes, and we do it daily; even gaily, when we can.

We know we can't take it so damn serious,

And we'd go crazy if we did,

So we kid around and play,

And we realize it's not in our hands anyway.

It's not our style to worry,

Though there's a lot to worry about.

Sometimes, we hurry, hurry, hurry

When we need to figure it out.

But it's best to zip along; eyes open,

Expecting anyway, that, fast or slow,

We're going to get it wrong -

To those supposed to know!

No one can keep in check

The sheer number of little tasks,

The unpredictability of the flow,

And all that will be asked.

Even so, we do prevail.

Though sad, or tired,

We still get through it;

Maybe in a round-about way,

But we do it,

Just like we've done the same sort of thing before.

Ninety-nine percent of the time!

Anyway, no one's keeping score!

Nothing goes exactly according to plan,

But we know the dark tunnel we're traveling through,

And we do the best we can.

Then again, if things get too askew, we will take a stand!

That, too, is what's demanded.