From King to King of the homeless. I am sorry but this is fiction, kind of.
I have homes with no roof
Out here life is hard but has good parts too. You just adapt.
Broken, unloved, down and out, psycho, drunk and all alone. That is what people think of us. They are wrong. Do you know what "exposure" means? It means being exposed to the elements. Exposure is what most of us crave. We just went nuts and could not stand roofs. Go ahead and laugh. Go ahead and mock us.
I am doing just fine. Thank you for PC caring. There is a shelter and a church I can go to any damned time I want. I just cannot stand the confinement and so many people. I need my air. I need to smell myself instead of deodorant. I am a lucky one and I am King of Kings on my turf.
Perhaps you can get low out here. But there is something about the freedom of nothin left to lose.
I guess for the blues this one is a favorite of a homeless dawg.
Judge but judge easy
I am literate. I got schooling. So I do not beg. I am a preacher and my people love my preachin bout Love. So I ain't got to work. I just need to try and stay sober a bit and help my buddies out in welfare, unemployment and VA lines. They call me Socrates cuz I talk like a scholar.
But I am sad
no I am not mad
I just see this place
And see all the displace
Emphasis on things
Never hearing freedom rings
It might be tough out here
But let me tell you dear
I saw a fight through a window last night
It was a horrible sight
Husband and wife about money
When they should say I love you honey
Freedom is the loss of ..... I do not know what
Freedom is the giving of your lot
Tonight I sleep on hard concete
I pray the Lord your soul to keep
My people do not bow a knee
For suffering do they see
But we carry each other
Like each is a brother
We are the homeless and outcast
Our treasure to yours will outlast.
They say that life is what we make of it.
I got friends that care for each other. Jenny the one leg, Billy the psycho, John the drunk, Jane the widow, Bob the Vet. We live well. Except old Annie died just the other day. We carried her to in front of a Liquor store and called 911 so it would be proper. We got sweet Ellie a dress and a room so she could try out for that job. We got a cart and took old Wayne up to the VA when his coughing got so bad.
Well a street panhandler named Joe hit it big so Maria at the taco shop is letting us sit out back and fill our bellies with beans, tortillas and rice and some carnitas. Tomorrow we will go find out what happened to black Gene down in the canyon and bring water.
I suppose I need to get some rest. So this next bit will be written by my buddy Eric.
Lord have mercy upon my soul for I have not helped enough.
That is some rambling. But I speak normal and get paid for a living. My name is Eric. I am no better than you. I walk by my brothers and sisters and do not invite them home.
I wish I never met these people. I have a good job, a great wife and fantastic children and a nice home. I preach on Sundays and my head is in the clouds. I do not want to know about the hard life these folks live. I do not want to know their hardships. But it just is not in me to ignore them.
Heat is here -- so gallons of water will be given and gatorade and a bunch of Ensure. A few bucks will be accidentally dropped so a bottle of relief can be found. I will cry and my family will pray that they make it another day. And when we are short on food because I gave it away, my wife will fix up rice another day. And we shall rejoice and be glad in it.