PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

There’ll never be a home

I’m gonna be alone

I’m always out of place

A lost baby albatross

fallen high from the nest

struggling to climb up and out

still breathing

I’ll always be in a shadow;

another of life’s misfits

curled like a ball

trying to stay warm

with shame in my eyes

to ask you for a little help



Many love to judge others

even though it may not be

the case they see

“It’s the lazy bum

or the deinstitutionalized scum

having an excuse

to use another helping

of alcohol and drugs”

Why give a f*ck?

Besides it’s as they say:

“It’s the weak who die along the way”

It’s survival to the fittest

Get rid of the bottom stratum



So what about children born into poverty

or those unfortunate

who’ve lost their homes and jobs

and scrounging whatever it takes

to live another day again and again?

It’s right to turn a blind eye?

Speak as if they are all the same?

[It’s the weak who die along the way]

Little children weep from empty stomachs?

Families trying how to solve it?

[It’s the weak who die along the way]

An elderly, bedraggled woman

slowly pushing her shopping cart

with belongings in the rain?

Collect as many recyclables

for the next hard earned meal?

[It’s the weak who die along the way]

A man, into the quagmire,

searching for another job?

Down on his last savings?

[It’s the weak who die along the way]



Everyone has their roots

growing on one’s own pace

I’m a seed still in this rat race

given Life and Spirit

like you and you and you out there

There is no real difference

But where may I grow

if I’m in no soil

and I don’t have a home

because I’ve got no where to go

Ensconced between the cardboard,

as comfortably as I can do,

I wonder what I can do tomorrow,

homeless.