July 10: On The Street

On The Street

So many people, left out on the street.

Be more in these turbulent, rock-bottom days,

With angry eyes, smoky brains, tired feet;

Shiver in cold and thirst in the heat;

Lonely, ragged, skittish to meet,

And misunderstood in their ways.

Some folks you’ll find there are really lost:

Their thoughts floating ‘round and around,

With oceans of hope that they can’t swim across.

Some are too proud to submit to a boss,

Or in hiding, revelation’s too high of a cost,

And they’d rather live close to the ground.

When you live in the jungle, you learn the ropes,

And you do what it takes to survive.

You might feel you’re a stranger.  You learn to cope.

You flow with the crazies, the cons, and the dope.

You jump through the hoops of the bringers of hope.

It’s rarely a place you can thrive.

But God keeps loving us all the same.

We’re all a part of one humanity.

We begin again, forgetting the blame.

We learn our lessons.  Releasing our shame,

And see our lives as a kind of a game:

That’s the way we hold on to our sanity.

Although some will be able to find their niche,

Knowing their friends and connections.

You can travel the world if you know how to hitch.

You can run with a gang.  You can be a snitch.

Beneath the radar, you can even get rich,

Or sustained under someone’s protection.

People come through, but not with reliance.

Everyone’s in so much flux.

Try taking control and you’ll meet with defiance.

Make an agreement.  You won’t find much compliance.

You can talk about politics; talk about science:

   Survival is really the crux!

But God keeps loving us all the same,

Despite all our posing and vanity.

We begin again, forgetting the blame.

We learn our lessons.  Releasing our shame,

And see our lives as a kind of a game:

But we never lose sight of reality.

There will arise movements to raise our condition,

And sustain a real counterculture;

Inspired projects for a common mission;

Real involvement and shared decision;

An organization unfolding a vision

That can’t be misused by a vulture!

But mostly, the dream remains a dream

While we all strive to be more aware

That people are more than what they may seem;

That there’s a thousand ways for a spirit to scream.

The Light is in us, we can channel its beams,

Giving strength to know how to care.

And God keeps loving us all the same.

We’re all a part of that divinity.

We begin again, forgetting the blame.

We learn our lessons, releasing our shame,

And see our lives as a kind of a game

With endless possibility!

July 11: Homeless Visitor, Seeking Work

Homeless Visitor, Seeking Work

Late in the day, I’m winding down.

I could be doing ‘most anything,

Thinking about going out on the town,

And that’s when I hear the doorbell ring,

And I wonder who that person might be,

And just what it is he'd be asking of me.

Whatever it is, I’ll have to say “no.”

And tell the brother that he’s got to go.

It turns out that it’s someone I’ve seen  before

On another day when I needed a hand.

He’s hoping I have yet another chore.

It’s just not something for which I had planned.

Of course, he’s ready to tell his tale:

Just a few dollars to get out of the cold.

It’s hard to make it when you’re just out of jail.

It’s tough to take it when you’re sick.  Or old.

It’s just he and I, both standing there.

I don’t want to tell him that I just don’t care.

Maybe tomorrow, I’ll be down on my luck,

So I reach in my pocket and I hand him a buck,

Not knowing where the money will go.

Did I give too much?  Do I not give enough?

Is it concern or impatience I show?

Will I ever learn to get tough?

Because now it’s me running out of money,

And where shall I look for a friend?

I feel I’ve been milked and I don’t get no honey,

‘Cause I just don’t have nothing to spend.

“Thanks for the dollar.  Now what is your task?”
                 I say, “I’m sorry.”  I have nothing to ask.

I don’t want to have him come into my walls,

But I give him my number so he can give me a call,

And I won’t have to face him face to face.

"God bless you, sir.  You know you've been very kind,"

And I’m grateful that at least I have a place

Though I’m in my own kind of bind,

Still needing to think about how I serve

In my lifestyle, my dollars and cents,

Like so many others, I’m seeking the nerve

To choose a dream; get off of my fence.

Of course, I need a balanced vision

I need to find a real opportunity;

I see the implications in every decision

For myself and the Great Community.

So then as I think about my life and my role,

The doorbell rings another alarm.

I know we don’t have to pay the toll,

But we do have to face our karma!

July 12: Wider Point of View

Wider Point of View

You don’t need to be told, if you understand:

You can see the situation, and you try to lend a hand.

When love guides your life, you don’t need many rules,

Though you might need a blueprint, and a standard to follow.

So many strictures are strictly for fools,

Who won’t heed them anyhow:  It’s too much to swallow;

Who can’t see the point when their bones have grown hollow!

So much to ignore, and so much to analyze:

Not knowing why they’re here, they take cover in their lies.

So to keep ourselves on track; to keep ourselves protected,

We’ve got locks with computer codes, wired to electric fences.

We’ve lost sight of reality; of how we’re all connected,

And we can’t control our mind, or come to our senses.

Then sadly, these have to be the confusing consequences.

Our barriers make us angry, but we’ve got to be cool:

It’s the dealing with life’s obstacles:  That’s what we learn in school.

Our minds must be free from life’s chains and locks,

And traverse the pathways to the reasons why:

Peaceful as a giant, and sly as a fox,

We start to view the world from a place on high

And gain the strength and wisdom that we need to simplify.

July 13: Pathways To The Street

Pathways to the Street

There are many pathways to giving up

In games where we no longer care to compete,

He sits on a stairway and holds out his cup,

Finding his place to exist – on the street.

Wild in the spirit and up for adventure,

Looking for love and living for song,

Ever at war against social censure,

And no idea how to get along . . .

What began in good fun became a crutch;

Addictions to drugs and to alcohol,

What it took to engage became too much.

He's a prisoner outside the walls.

Chorus:

We all have to struggle to get what we need,

As we cope with our own deficiencies.

We’ve all ignored what we’ve needed to heed,

Been given a mandate that we couldn’t concede;

Suffered the blindness in somebody’s greed,

Or are stymied by daft inefficiency.

So he drifted.  He couldn't see he was lost,

While his chances began to run out,

He dabbled in dreams; In goals to be tossed

‘Cause they carried such worry and doubt.

His thoughts became plagued with resentment

Against anyone’s expectations,

To hide the shame in his lack of commitment.

He made stories of manipulation.

He became an accomplice to a petty crime,

And fearing he would get the blame,

He hopped a freight; found work in a mine,

Where he went by a different name.

Chorus

He met a lonely man who had worked so hard,

But never felt himself succeed,

Until finally, from years of disregard,

He was swept away in his need:

A sensitive person, who, having been attacked,

Could not face the world again.

On a construction project, he hurt his back,

And sought healing though the use of his pen.

At one time, he'd made it in the mining business,

But for lack of ore, the mines had to close.

He wanted his fortune and nothing less,

And so his possibilities froze!

Chorus

The two became friends, and though both deranged,

Compassion between them was given.

Easing their torment; allowing for change,

They could laugh at the lives they'd been living!

They were touched by a woman with a heart so pure,

Subsisting as a church volunteer,

Who finds sexual passion amongst the poor,

Unscathed by Want or fear,

Who said, "As long as you’ve got a place to crash,

You have freedom to sit where it’s sunny.

They look away.  Others treat you like trash.

It’s sad, but people are funny –

"Stuck in possessions they have to maintain,

With so much feeling that they just can’t relate,

It’s their own inner pain that makes them disdain

My joy and my pathetic fate."

Chorus

July 15: Shelter

Shelter

My shelter is my faith in God!
My shelter comes from knowing my present limitations.
My shelter comes from envisioning my true possibilities.
My shelter is my protection.
My shelter allows me to store and organize.
My shelter gives me privacy.
My shelter is my space to own and be alone.
My shelter is a gathering place.
My shelter is shelter for friends when they need it.

Faith is a system of beliefs and understanding
Faith is trusting in whatever life can bring.
Humility is deference to the true sensibilities of others.
Humility is adherence to the truth of our experience as our experience.
Envisioning sets a direction and a sense of purpose.
Envisioning implies action and collaboration
Protection is recourse to the tools of self defense.
Protection is a plastic screen.
Keeping is a locked door and an iron safe.
Keeping is a library full of books and music.
Privacy is turning off the phone and closing the door.
Privacy is being invisible in the world.
Ownership is a picket fence with a no-trespassing sign.
Ownership is freedom to create your space as you want it.
Gathering is sharing a bottle of wine at the end of the day.
Gathering is like-minded people working for change.
Our shelter is God’s gift to us.
Our shelter is our gift to God.

July 16: Leaving It Up To God

Seth 2:  Leaving It Up To God

I feel so sad to see  you go.
I don’t know what to do or say.
It hurts to see you so alone.
It hurts to leave you in so much pain.

You say you must be a wanderer,
And it’s an empty life you didn’t choose.
You say you’re an incompetent ponderer,
And abandoned your whole life through.

If it was up to me, I’d let you out
Of all the sorrows of your past.
With perfect love, I’d dispel your doubt,
But I cannot answer what you haven’t asked.

So come again another  time
If the road you’re traveling makes you bored.
For I would like to meet your mind.
If the spirit’s willing, it’s an open door!