Perspective

Perspective


me and the trees are both dripping water. Pathetic in every way. I slump on the bench in my comfortable shoes. I'm mostly dry and, even though it's raining gallons of water, the multiple layers of mostly new clothes that I'm wearing keep me warm. And I'm feeling sorry for myself.

There's a man talking to himself, picking the scabs caused by the wounds he inflicted on himself while being attacked by a man that only he could see.

A woman with bruises on her face and blood in her hair because she's afraid to leave the man who fathered the children she can't afford. And I see the children and they're beautiful and sad. And they have bruises on their faces, and I feel sorry for me.

I sit here in the Park District- my hands balancing my head like the claw feet of a bath tub, my head slung low and my long hair hiding any emotion that my face might allow to be shown.

I look up and I see a man. He curls up into a ball recalling the warmth of his mother's womb. His bed is made of wet grass and the hoodie he has on. He hides his face. The scars from years of abuse, self-inflicted and otherwise, and he'll sleep here all night and I'll have a nice warm bed and a roof over my head and food and beer in my belly when I tuck myself in.

And I cry because I'm so damn pathetic.

And why?

I'm glad you asked.

You see- I can't write right now.

My muse seems to have left me and so everything I write seems so crappy. I think I think too much. The man lying on the wet grass starts to snort and snore and it pisses me off because he's interrupting my train of thought and I yell for him to shut the hell up.

And he does.

Maybe I just need to relax. Maybe I just-

"Can you spare some change sir?" A woman who was born around the time of Mesopotamia, her face is filled with the feet of a thousand crows. She's hunched over, and she can't stand still- her hand trembles as she reaches out to me with it. She smells like urine mixed with vodka mixed with Pall Mall's- the cigarettes that Kurt Vonnegut smoked. I gag when I see her. I gag when her odor reaches my nostrils.

I pull my head phones out of my ear and say "What?" and she says again "Can you spare some change sir?" And I tell her "no I don't have any" and I put my ear phones back in and try not to watch her as she stumbles down the sidewalk.

I've lost my train of thought. Another tangent. Damn you you old woman!

I need to relax. If I'm going to write again and write well- i need to find my muse. I need to stop comparing myself to those polished beatniks at the Sunday Night Poetry Slams and just accept that maybe poetry is not my gift.

Maybe the world doesn't need another Ginsburg. Maybe the world doesn't need another Frost. Another Whitman.

Scab Man distracts me. He's telling nobody at the top of his lungs that he didn't mess with nobodies' wife and he needs to leave him the fuck alone. He scratches his arm viciously and howls and I am annoyed.

I've lost my train of thought.

Again.

I enjoy writing. I'd like to be good at it. Maybe even great. I think what I need is to gain some perspective. I need to find something to write about. Something that will touch people.

I get up from the bench and trudge through the mud puddles and get into my nice warm, dry car. I take a final look around the park I was just sitting in and I sigh to myself, sad that there's nothing there for me to write about.

Homelessness in America

According to the Department of Housing and Urban Development, as many as 3.5 million people experience homelessness in a given year (1% of the entire U.S. population or 10% of its poor), and about 842,000 people in any given week.Most were homeless temporarily. The chronically homeless population was over 123,000 in 2007.

More by this Author


Comments 10 comments

PDXKaraokeGuy profile image

PDXKaraokeGuy 4 years ago from Portland, Oregon Author

Thanks so much, Audrey. I forget about this one.


AudreyHowitt profile image

AudreyHowitt 4 years ago from California

Beautifully written Justin--


PDXKaraokeGuy profile image

PDXKaraokeGuy 4 years ago from Portland, Oregon Author

alberts, thanks so much. I've always revising, though... at least until physical publication. I appreciate the share and the comment!


albertsj profile image

albertsj 4 years ago from Pittsfield, Ma

Justin, no revision necessary. You bring the reader so deeply in to your head, that I almost felt as if I was you, while reading. You're very talented. Oh, also shared.


PDXKaraokeGuy profile image

PDXKaraokeGuy 4 years ago from Portland, Oregon Author

Thanks alberts. I forgo about this piece. It may be due for a revision!


albertsj profile image

albertsj 4 years ago from Pittsfield, Ma

This was so deep, and wonderful. I can so relate. I often feel as if I think far too much. To the point at hurts. And I need to get the "fuck" out of my head. This was also, really raw, on so many levels. And I could tell from your heart.

Voted up, and awesom.


PDXKaraokeGuy profile image

PDXKaraokeGuy 5 years ago from Portland, Oregon Author

Thanks again. I love writing. haven't posted much lately because I've been busy with summer school but I try to keep my hubs fresh


jami l. pereira 5 years ago

I voted this up awesome ,beautifuland also funny ... You are an amazing ly talented writer/poet ! Bravo and kudos go out to you for this amazingly beautifully stunning creative write! Im your newest follower and i look forward to reading more from you soon!:)


peter 5 years ago

hey that was beautiful.


Pamela<3 5 years ago

* hugs my beautiful, wonderful, gifted Justin* u have nothing to cry about & stop being mean to the poor old homeless ppl. * bops u over the head ;) *

    Sign in or sign up and post using a HubPages Network account.

    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    No HTML is allowed in comments, but URLs will be hyperlinked. Comments are not for promoting your articles or other sites.


    PDXKaraokeGuy profile image

    Justin W. Price (PDXKaraokeGuy)742 Followers
    229 Articles

    Justin W. Price, AKA PDXKaraokeGuy, is a freelance writer, blogger, and award- nominated author based out of Portland, Oregon.


    Click to Rate This Article
    working