The Shame of the World

Not sure what possessed me to write this, the first line came into my head and it evolved into a sort of song about a homeless person, or someone without hope. It is a terrible indictment on the world that we allow people to live on the streets, we allow people to live terrible lives. We allow people to have nothing when so many others have more than they need. This is the problem with the world, not sure how you change it if I am honest, but it is a simple fact that we as a species are barbaric, because we allow this sort of thing to happen. I will put myself in that category because I am also complicit in this crime against humanity. I would say nearly everyone is, but that doesn’t make it right does it?

We can all be proud of our achievements, but as long as most of the people of the world live in conditions similar to the middle ages, and in some cases far worse, then we will never be an truly intelligent species. We can never truly be an enlightened species, or a shining example of how an intelligent species, should or could act. We still harbour deep instinctive values that allow us to look past the pain and suffering that covers our planet like a festering puss filled sore. We can shut off our empathy towards the weak and feeble, the misbegotten masses. We can all sub-consciously pray that we will never end up like that, but the strange fact is that as long as we allow it to happen, then we are all living in fear that it will happen to us. And when or if it happens to you or me and anyone else, how will we feel then?  Would we want the world to forget us, to pretend we don't exist, to allow us to descend into misery?  You would hope not.

Many Not Few

I am curled around a lamp post; with no shadow can I see,

Freezing cold I’m shivering, agonizing misery,

No one sees me down here,

No one feels my pain,

All around the world continues,

I sense no empathy only shame.


Sleeping bag of boxes and newspaper if I’m lucky,

Dirty grimy insulator that makes me look quite mucky,

Face and hands are terribly swollen,

Baring the scars of the past,

Mentally I’m totally broken,

I hope my body will not last.


What do I do?

What can you say?

Will I ever get to wake up,

And smell a brighter day.


What can I do?

What do you say?

It is easier to forget me,

So is doesn’t spoil your day.


When I wake up in the morning, I try to drink away the day,

There is no shave and coffee dawning; only for death do I pray,

My mind passed boredom long ago,

Living silently in a dream,

I watch the silent walkers,

Flowing by a steady stream.


As the day it passes through to night, I feel the biting chill,

Had no food apart from scraps for days, nearly lost my will,

Only friend I have is alcohol,

How much longer will it last?

No emotion left inside of me,

Just a ghost fading too fast.


What do I do?

What can you say?

Will I ever get to wake up,

And smell a brighter day.


What can I do?

What do you say?

It is easier to forget me,

So is doesn’t spoil your day.