Monday, March 12

My Snak

A round dimpled object.
There are tiny needle point inverted wounds,
Waxed and shiny.
You could squeeze it
Without releasing its juice or pulp.

The color appears bright—
Instant like a sunrise—a shade of warmth,
Daybreak. Morning. Ripe.
Like bruised dawn.

The first piece tastes like
A burst of yellow,
Like noon breaking through branches.
Little tiny sour balls,
Tincture drops of Mother Earth’s candy.

Peeled open, it smells like
Sugar stains on children’s faces.
Sort of like spilled juice
On a wooden table

A.V.L

New Roommate

She came in on a storm of chaos
With low moaning winds
And churning sea waves
Intermittently building to a flashpoint;
Then ebbing to a brief calm,
For just a little while,
Before the storm began again.

M.F.T. 2/20/07

Lifehike

Where I’ve been is not here—
Nowhere near.
But many other cities and suburbs
And situations
And circumstances—
All way stations
On the road to getting here,
On the road to where I’m going to go.

M.F.T. 2/20/07

Survivor

Outside the door
Meeting fear around the corner
Down the block
And finding it growing a little
Smaller,
Finally met

M.F.T. 1/23/07

Real Love

Real love is something
You feel deep down
In your soul.

Real love is something
We all long for
And never can get enough of.

It’s like how you feel
When you eat a Hershey’s candy bar—
Umm, it’s soo good!

Real love is seeing
The good in someone,
Instead of the bad.

Real love is the sun
On your face
On a warm day.

Real love is sacrificing
Something of yourself
To make someone else happy.

Real love is what God gives us
Every day,
No matter what.

Real love—Have you got it?
Well, if not, don’t worry.
You’ll get it.
Or someone will give it to you!

B.J. 1/23/07

Survival

Survival…surviving…surrender
Mean an everyday living to me.
My survival is
Not to surrender.
That is what I know as surviving.

J.G. 1/23/07

Strange Weather

The sky is so cloudy;
The houses look so bleak.
Everyone is rushing to get to warm shelter.

This woman I see loses her scarf
As she holds on tight
To the only things she owns
In her carriage.

I don’t feel alone;
I feel alive all of a sudden.
I jump and leap to get something
That means so much
To help her sleep,
Or help her keep warm.

Maybe she found it in a barrel;
Maybe it was her husband’s.
Lost.
But all I know is that I chased it
And brought it back to her.

And all of a sudden,
When we looked at each other,
We weren’t cold anymore.

J.G. 1/9/07

Strange Weather

Seventy degrees outside — lovely;
Not hot enough to sweat,
Not cool enough for a coat—lovely.

Crisp air infiltrates my lungs
As I pedal my bike
With Stormy in tow—
Comfortable in her carrier.

We ride along the river;
We toss rocks in the water.
We pedal on
Noticing a gaggle of geese
On the river setting—lovely.

We ride onward
Toward the playground.

The bike path is full;
Skaters, walkers, riders, runners,
Babies in carriages,
Families, lovers and friends—
Children running like any other day—lovely.

Except this is January ’07
In the Northeast—Boston;
Global warming—
Or just strange weather…

T.W. 1/9/07

Alone

Today I found myself alone,
By myself and on my own.
I’ve never been here before,
No one to love or hold anymore.

What is it exactly that I should do?
I really don’t know, so I’m asking you.
In my mind I have a lot of plans;
None will get done if I don’t take a stand.

How hard could it be just to love me?
I really don’t know, but in time I’ll see.

Y.P.
10/24/06

When You Slip

I am homeless and everyday I experience someone around me
Using drugs and crack
I hear the arguments and it all sounds pretty wack
A voice in anger fueled by crack
Always up always on
Disturbing myself and others who see what is going wrong
Addiction comes to visit every day
Addicts use and abuse themselves and us in simple ways
This is not just your air space it is also mine
I do not want to be forgiving or even kind
When you light up and suck in to breathe out
It makes me angry and I want to shout get the hell out!
Me and anyone next to you, without a doubt,
Gets a second hand breath of every inch the slow breath death you take
Second hand smoke is no joke
When you take a poke
Anyone gets a jolt
There is no more free air space
We all share the same tiny shelter space
I am not trying to make an addict’s mistake
Of purposefully lighting up, I do not want the first intake
The beginning of an addict’s journey
Me and others, who are clean and sober, know it is not funny
And not worth the loss of friends, family and money
So when you light up go outside where no one can see
So we also cannot smell
Your slow trip to hell
Spare us the disgust
Of smelling your second hand dust!

F.N.
10/16/06

Hurting On the Inside

The pain inside my soul,
Is tearing me apart.
While the smile on my face,
Plays a different part.

I hide my feelings,
Deep down inside.
I can’t let no one see
The real me.

I’ve been around
And down many paths;
I stand on the ground,
But I can’t feel my feet.

Sometimes I feel numb
To everyone around me.
I’ve put up a wall
To hide my feelings.

J.H.
10/24/06