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CHAPTER 1

“With no walls or roof, I wrote as proof.”

Home

Ideas and phrases are common

When this topic arises.

Taken for granted by many,

Yet for thousands, it’s a crisis.

Some may say it is where

The heart is to be found,

While those many, less fortunate

Seek to find any ground.

So it appears that a home

Is much more than a roof and walls.

It is comfort and safely,

A place of rest when the time calls.

One’s guard may be dropped.

No facades needed here,

Whether alone or with others,

Being one’s true self, with no fear.

Corrupt

For a time I witnessed

Power and its abuse.

Sheriff and police from throughout the land

Created fear with no excuse.

People whose creed once claimed,

To “protect and serve”

Seemed to evolve, unchecked,

To intimidate and unnerve.

This conduct is intolerable.

Its roots need torn apart

Stains, left on every officer’s badge

Inches from their heart.

How then to control

This power given those?

Maybe all doors should be opened,

With none left to close.

Homeless Hunger, Homeless High

Half of a day spent

Just looking for food.

It’s no wonder that some

Might have an attitude

Constantly looked down upon,

It’s easy to feel low.

Hard to find comfort,

When you’re always told to go.

Can any of us lay blame

When these souls seek a “high”?

Since simpler pleasures, once known,

Are but a memory and long sigh.

Sadly, this need

Has a price that is well renown

In that universally, what goes up,

Must also come down.

Night

The night belongs to the cricket’s song,

At times the only thing heard.

The trees, aglow by streetlamps,

Much like the biblical bush being burned.

Alas, the weary can rest their heads

For a time to a tranquil peace.

Only the nocturnal, in their various forms,

Come alive with relative ease.

It’s a time of respite, renewal, and reflection

Toward a previous day’s events

And to wonder, dare I say even,

Dream a bit,

At tomorrow’s new challenges…

Tomorrow’s new expense.

Alpha

My friend, listen close.

Since I have shared this same pain

Living where no one’s allowed

To be equal, beneath only, no gain.

This path, when followed upon,

Can yield only more lost,

For to keep others down,

More harm is promised—

More harm the cost.

Without Home

There are many with broken spirits,

Roaming and wandering, day to day.

The great majority of these people, all types,

Would much rather have a home and stay.

Most are seeking what many take for granted,

Those basic things to survive,

While others hoping for a simple chance

To chase those dreams and thrive.

Men and women, young and old,

There are no restrictions apparent here,

And though there are some resources

That exist to help, often, they’re not near.

As these people look to be whole again,

Searching for those missing pieces not easily found,

Many often feel as if shackled, with

Steep roads ahead—perpetually bound.

Acknowledgment

Hey! Yes, you!

I’m right here in front.

No, not invisible,

I’m not bearing that brunt.

I would hope in the future,

Kind words might cross your lips,

But if not, anything would be better

Than that blank stare and hands on hips.

Don’t fear the connection.

It might even bring joy.

Remember how you couldn’t get enough

Of that first Christmas toy?

So please keep in mind,

A simple smile, an occasional hello

May go a long way toward another,

Providing a much-needed “social pillow.”

La-La Land

Oh my, how this City of Angels

Has grown

From a once small pueblo,

To this huge melting pot, at times unknown.

People come here

For something felt very deep.

Maybe it’s the weather or the stars,

Or the dreams while asleep.

It’s felt growing pains, like other cities,

To current to forget

Such as smog, traffic jams, gangs…

All placing their bet.

That even this huge, as some

May say, suburban sprawl

Will move people to a better place,

Even if the freeways are a crawl.

Reflection

Mounted to a wall,

No matter what the shape,

It leers back through us,

With no place to escape.

Yet the reality it returns is flawed.

Some may even say cursed,

Since the images come back to us,

Backward or inversed.

Well, experts might use physics to explain

This dance of materials and light,

While the metaphysical soul might compare

And ask, which one is more right?

Such as, is the real beauty shown,

Or just wasted vanity?

Or might this illusion hide the sane,

As well as insanity?

Time

How, may we define

This concept, so surreal?

Yet it exists, we are sure,

Through change and age we all feel.

Many phrases are common,

That seek to clarify.

Such as, “make it,” “have it,” or

“When having fun, it can fly.”

Even Einstein’s equations,

Adding those dimensions of space,

Carefully crafted, complex,

Not easy for the commonplace.

But the one thing for sure

Is that it definitely marches on,

From the moment of our birth

Through our life, and well after we are gone.

The Fallen

Many times they’re our heroes,

Our champions, the strong

With whom time becomes their foe,

As do many things going along.

Commands to their bodies

No longer obeyed.

Doubt created for the newly unsure,

A new fear now displayed.

Confidence and esteem

Often erode in the past,

With a quiet humility,

Previously unknown, coming fast.

Can anything be done

To lessen this great fall?

Maybe respecting prior glories,

So they may always stand tall.

Harmony

A great hunger exists

In this land of ours,

Where equality is still sought,

With no walls, with no bars.

This balance, this harmony,

Has been an elusive tune,

In that many minorities of color and creed

Have suffered greatly to their ruin.

Parity, respect—

Are these values so remote?

Can differences be overcome,

With no one stranded or left afloat?

It’s true that no two share

The same mind, the same face,

Yet to always remember this truth…

We’re all residents of the human race.

The Law

The rule of law,

It is often said,

Is the backbone of our system,

Universal to all, our leaders and the led.

However, one symbol shows both

Its strength and its needs.

The lady, a statue and blindfolded,

Perhaps not seeing all deeds.

This blindness,

Manifested through money and power,

Has shown to many, great injustice,

Certainly not our finest hour.

As one hopes to see change

Through the ridicule and derision,

Maybe only then can this system

Restore some lost vision.

Word

The spoken word has immense power

As it conveys.

Its message may be infinitely broad,

Though often, it changes ways.

With its inherent freedoms,

There is also a great cost,

Since some will find direction,

Others will be lost.

Here it seems especially important

That one possesses a discerning ear,

Since some talk…

Not always thoughtful or measured—

Approaches with some fear.

Times like this, when one ignores,

Those words’ power lose their weight.

Now empty and without inertia,

Deaf ears victorious, without the hate.

The Panhandler

I see the older man weekly,

As he hustles and scrounges

For some coin.

He solicits in a kind and humble way,

Avoiding all desire to purloin.

Most that pass by him realize

His life is lived simply,

Hand to mouth!

While any likely future opportunities

Have evaded and gone south.

Maybe the next time you walk by,

Try to think of him beyond the image

Of a downtrodden bum.

While he mooches a bit,

Sponges for more…

Forging his survival, through

Various landscapes or slum.