I've been homeless. I've worked at 7-Eleven.
quote by Dennis Rodman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Homeless
Homeless;
- Down by the muddy Mississippi
Skinny as a rail,
Sleeping under the old Eads bridge
Feeling low, dirty, and frail -
Homeless;
- With less than two coins
In both pockets,
Empty eyes
Look through sunken sockets -
Homeless;
- So many people walk right on by
I wonder how many care,
They all keep moving
Even though they stare -
Homeless;
- Lost a job
Lost a home,
Lost a family
Lost all hope -
Homeless;
- Where will I go from here
What should I do,
I'm so thankful when the weather's fair
And the skies are blue -
Homeless;
- Don't know the day nor season
And, yea, it sure gets cold at night,
I've got an old sleeping bag
I'll be alright -
Homeless;
- There's so many of us out here
Without a home,
Even so
I feel so very alone -
Homeless;
- It's a tough situation
Not pretty, just true,
And at any time
It could happen to you -
Homeless;
- Hey buddy...
Could you spare a dime,
And say a prayer for us
... sometime -
- I'm just homeless, not less human...
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Eleven
ELEVEN
Eleven, eleven, eleven years old,
intrepid, courageous, becomingly bold,
awaiting the whistle to aim at the goal,
youth victory snatches to go for the gold.
Eleven in yellow, eleven in blue,
first warm up, then face out, they know what to do,
team practice their axis extended, each soul
feels ready, steels steady, heart heady, on cue.
Eleven enthusiasts, courage extolled,
engage without rage on the field that has told
long tales of hopes met or defeats swallowed whole,
on one ball all focus as onwards its rolled.
Eleven, eleven, well matched, tackle through,
a game which enflames passions partisan, true,
team work all important as each knows the role
to play so the day stays as record all view
Rupert Kensho Robin Le Saux written Chateaugiron 23 October 2006
robi03_1457_robi03_0000 XXX_MXX
Eleven poem © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Eleven today
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Today you're eleven
That's nine add on two.
Now ten is behind you
And twelve is to come
When riding your bike
Don't fall on your bum.
A six and a five
Make eleven as well
Your maths are so good
This I don't need to tell.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Legs are eleven
But you've only TWO!
Eleven is better
Than ten any day
That's what I think
And I'm going to say:
'Roses are red
Violets are blue,
Eleven is lovely
And so too are you.'
Written Sept 1994
poem by John Carter Brown
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I am Not Homeless
I am not homeless
there is a number on my door
a room mate cat quilt desk sofa
spray bottles under the sink.
I am not homeless
on the train initiated
showing a monthly ticket to the guard
I am not homeless
at my desk in the office
expected to talk beg
bring in the business
give them the business
business as usual or get the hell out
I am not homeless
in a world of obligation
scrambling to pay rent
electricity gas oil phone commutation
food food food
I am not homeless —
unless I am expected
to feel at home.
poem by J. Barrett Wolf
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Waltz Wave
In
my car
parked.
seven
eleven
hot spot
for
homeless
and police
coffee doughnuts
and spare change
change hands
as
hands change
on the watch
on my
wrist
in my
car
poem by Ray Schreiber
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Eleven minutes. The world revolved around something that only took eleven minutes.
Paulo Coelho in Eleven Minutes (2003), translated by Margaret Jull Costa
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Chronically homeless means constantly homeless; it means repeatedly homeless.
quote by Linda Lingle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The secret is to work less as individuals and more as a team. As a coach, I play not my eleven best, but my best eleven.
quote by Knute Rockne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I probably worked every single entertainment medium, including some that don't exist. I worked the circus, carnival, I had my own medicine show, I worked 18 years of radio.
There's a stability and growth pact which was agreed for the eleven countries which tries to limit the size of budget deficits among the eleven countries.
quote by Robert C. Solomon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My mother worked in factories, worked as a domestic, worked in a restaurant, always had a second job.
quote by Ed Bradley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Aftermath
Now the radio stutters. snaps to life.
Some sour song that sets it right.
And when London falls
He'd like to call
But the stars collide.
They're beautiful and much maligned.
In a universe where you see the worst,
And it's up to you to fix it.
Now you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you want to shout
How you see it all
It's easy to dismiss the "what's it all about" crowd.
There is no doubt. it's this, here, now.
And you close your eyes.
He's not coming back.
So you work it out, overfeed the cat.
And the plants are dry and they need to drink.
So you do your best. and you flood the sink.
Sit down in the kitchen and cry.
Now you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you want to shout
How you see it all
Now the universe left you for a runners lap.
It feels like home when it comes crashing back.
And it makes you laugh
And it makes you cry,
When London falls
And you're still alive.
The radio stutters,
It makes you laugh
And the aftermath,
Open up your eyes.
You're so alive.
Now you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you want to shout
How you see it all
How you've worked it out
And you see it all
How you've worked it out
And you see it all
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Homelessness In Winter
back about 30 years ago,
living on the streets in Charlotte...
finally found a job... was lucky enough
to have a place to take a shower...
sleeping in the backseat of a broke
down Ford Maverick... cold winter...
got up and walked 4 miles to work
every morning,4 miles 'home' in the
evening...
went on for a couple months before
i got a place to live...
so yes i know what homelessness
feels like...and i cant help thinking
about all the empty foreclosed houses....
empty houses, homeless people....
back then, even if you couldnt find a
real job, they had a place where you
could go and line up to do day work...
worked all day for about 25 dollars...
if you couldnt do that, you could always
sell blood.... i dont know what they do
now....i just know it's a hard life...and if
you've got family, got kids...
something to think about the next time
you see a homeless person walking the
streets!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Do You Know What It's Like?
do you know what it's like...
to have nowhere to go,
nowhere to turn,
no one to talk to,
no one who cares,
no one who will listen?
to lose everything you've worked for?
to be homeless, hungry, and broke?
to feel the anger of hopelessness?
to act out of desperation?
think for a moment tonite...
do you know how many people
are in this position?
these people are just like you!
and but for a simple twist of fate,
you could be there too!
do you know what it's like?
do you give a damn?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Alcohol is a very necessary article... It makes life bearable to millions of people who could not endure their existence if they were quite sober. It enables Parliament to do things at eleven at night that no sane person would do at eleven in the morning.
George Bernard Shaw in Major Barbara (1907)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Is Needed Most Right Now
'That number multiplied by itself
Is no further than the previous number
Added to it!
5x5=25
6x6=36
Five plus six is eleven, right?
Add eleven onto 25 and you have 6x6!
Or subtract eleven from 36 and you will have 25! '
Why isn't mathematics taught that way?
In our schools?
'It would start an avalanche of thinkers...
And what is needed most right now,
Is a supply of more gullible people!
And 'that' we seem to be losing ground on.
That is becoming low in supply...
And ignorance spreads like wild fire!
Why?
We wonder.
WHO is subduing the process of thought?
They are 'not' doing a good job at that at all!
'Thinking Stinks'
And that is the message we want to send!
Critical thinking is not in demand.
We must create fresh beliefs
Before we lose the land! '
Good luck...
You lost me with this one!
Wake me up for recess!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mampi: A Girl Of 11
Pranab k c
15/07/2011
Father is blind of one eye
only the elder brother
going to lose his kidney
Mampi the girl of eleven
feels poverty silently
She can't do anything to share
She can't learn her lesson well
Mampi the girl of eleven
feels poverty silently
She dreams to share her family
She dreams to fight a lot
Mampi the girl of eleven
feels poverty silently
One morning noise everywhere
Mampi sleeps noiseless
Mampi a girl of eleven
committed suicide
Two days later
family found a suicide note
broken words of Mampi's hand
give my kidney to my brother
give my eye to my father
I die because I learnt
man can share body-parts
with others after death'
Mampi the girl of eleven years
felt poverty silently
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
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Homeless
while walking thru the woods one day
a wise homeless man came my way
and as he came closer to me
he asked me so softely.
do you have a dollar you could spare
to buy a burger for my wife and i to share.
i've lost everything in my life
home, car, children too.
and i don't know what to do.
so now my wife and i sleep under the trees
with leaves as a bed, to rest my weary head.
i know that my clothes are torn and tattered
but to me that does'nt matter.
if i could have a dollar or two
i would be grateful to you.
a warm meal is all i ask, if it's not much of a task.
all my life i was a provider, and now i'm an outsider
an outsider who finally sees, what poverty has done to me.
i've worked every job that i could find
.to be the provider that i used to be.
but life turned its back on me
they say that humanity always asks the LORD.
'why me' but poverty is the student
and hardship is the teacher.
that is the way the LORD can reach us.
for when we see all that we had, and did not want to share.
turned our backs on everyone, and did not really care.
this is the time that our lessons in life unfolds.
for in GODS teachings, to help our fellow man.
sacrifices we all must make, its part of GODS plan.
and now that i am homeless and living in the woods
i have to ask myself.
'what would have happened if in my life i was good'
i gave this man five dollars for that was all i had.
he looked up at me and smiled
and blessed me for the generosity.
then he turned his back, and departed from me.
and as he walked away, a mist covered him from view.
there was no one there, that was when i knew.
the LORD had came to me that day.
just to show me the homeless way.
poem by Louis Rams
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Children Should Not Have To Be Homeless
There are thousands of homeless children in Beijing in China though that is not suprising to hear
For where there is a huge population there is poverty too 'twould appear
And China to anywhere else is no different the rich getting richer they say
And just beyond the leafy suburb is the suburb of neglect and decay.
There are thousands of homeless children in New York though with that some may not agree
In America the great Land of commerce no such a thing as poverty?
But the facts of course will tell you differently and in a World of inequality
There too are children homeless and hungry in the so called Land of the free.
There are homeless children in London in England as well as in Paris in France
The poor children of the poor suburb in life they do not have a chance
Their parents in Jail for drug abuse they become the kids of the street
They search the rubbish bins for food in dark alleys and what others do throw out they eat.
There are homeless children in Sydney and Melbourne and anywhere else one might name
Though that does not seem to affect us we never reflect on our shame
That many should have to grow poorer for one to become a millionaire
In a truly egalatarian society would never be looked on as fair.
Children should not have to be homeless though born into abject poverty
They should not be punished for the sins of their parents so much for our humanity
And money to some all that matters and money is married to success
Whilst the children of the poor live homeless on the street of the No Fixed Address.
poem by Francis Duggan
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