hack

This is
a collection
of some
of my
poems
that deal with
homelessness:
**************************
"...You, stumbling dumb
At night, as pale stars break,
Lift your thin hands for some
Hope, and suffer, and wake..."

Herman Hesse from Lonesome Night
***************************
Distant Thunder

empty, I rose
only a little off
but storming toward crazy

______________________

Mission Statement

The sweet rolls, there, are not too stale,
for folks with ashes in their ale.
You acquire a taste for what's at hand
a sandwich, with a little sand.

I'm determined not to be a jerk
though committed to avoiding work.
Now if they'd tighten up this line
I'd have my soup in double time.

I'm not fit for any trade
and not from drinking lemonade.
If you judge me by what I do
judge not, that ye not be judged too!

________________________________

Pabst Prayer

Let the wizened
be not old.
Help the hungry
flee the cold.

Give us
with that daily bread,
a place to lay
our unwell head

I pray you Lord
to smite them all.
Crush the mighty,
chop the tall.

Spirit me
away from here,
and if you're buying
make mine beer.

_____________________

Goa Way

Me and Skeeter
pickin' locks
for a place to sleep

We came down here
to the docks
on a midnight creep

Maybe we could
stow away
to Goa we would sail

We would go away
to stay
The sea would leave no trail

Skeeter speaks
some Portugee
I could stand there dumb

It's only a dream
I know
I'd go if Skeet would come

________________________

Hairy the Cat

I wish I had the pennies
that I've thrown into the sea.
I'd buy a crust of bread
and we would share it, you and me.

But pennies spent are gone, you say,
and I won't argue that,
though wishes from those pennies bought
me you and this damned cat.

The cat's another mouth to feed
and one more homeless soul,
but he's our comfort in the night
when thunderstorms might roll.

Now, we wear what we own, my dear
and our love fits us fine,
although he's just a little thing,
Hairy's our valentine.

___________________________

In the Lie Berry

Skeeter and I in the stacks
discussing wings and thighs,
Skeeter says Immanuel can't
and I say Skeeter lies

Skeet says wisdom's not knowledge
and science isn't life
he'd be more believable,
except he choked one wife

Skeet's a little crazy
but I don't blame him none
it's hard to keep your sanity
when folks think you're a bum

Skeeter don't wear fancy clothes,
my cast-offs are just fine
we spend near every penny
on jugs of cheap red wine

Skeeter don't need no wine list
I'm his sommelier,
and just between the two of us,
I think ole Skeeter's gay