Inner City Sanctums.

Inner City Sanctums

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Little is ever seen by those 

who have all they need in life

of the faithless existence of those

who have not and yet struggle on

endless multitudes of folks simply

stroll on by the daily drama

their eyes glued, screwed 

and tattoed  to cell phones

all of them with deadlines to be met

and no intentions to meet those

who are in line to meet death

All the Curbside prophets who practice 
their communion with the streets,
in somewhat unholy ways.

Rag-tag, bearded guttersnipes,
scarfing  half smoked 
butts of incense,
to use as burnt offerings
to the devout habit 
life has granted them

nicotine fiends always 

bumming alight for the stubs

of someone elses discarded smoke

Others who spend 

most of their hours 
collecting tithes from 
the passing assemblies
to gain a taste of heaven
from the grapes of the gods.

Homeless waifs wander off of 
many concrete avenues of despair
seeking to end their fasting 
by the act of genuflecting 
inside back alley dumpsters.

Others pawn their vessels virgin,
to the demons of lust,
giving perverse new meanings
to the label hitting the skids.

Painted ladies offer sanctuary,
to the worshippers of lust,
as they fall on bended knees
and pay lip service to the
flesh idols of fertility.

Curbside prophets from 

pagan sects, all practicing

daily and nightly the many

faithless rituals of the damned.

Using church pews not to worship

a God who has also forgot them 

but to sneak in and sleep off hangovers

living in cardboard mansions

that once held a refridgerator

that is somewhere full of food

while they go  hungry 

more often than not.

They shop at Goodwill 

collection boxes where 

the better off donate

quite useful clothing for free

They mutter at you 

as you pass

each crumpled hat

that holds only 

enough change

to leave then begging 

the next day

and when one of them vanishes

you can find them 

in an unmarked grave

in potters fields

assigned a number

that coinsides with thousands

of other numbers denoting

the loss of yet another vagrant.

But little of this  is ever seen by those

who have all they need in life

of the faithless existence of those

who have not and yet struggle on