Homeless
FPulver
Joined 16th Sep 2013
Forum Posts: 57
Twisted Dreamer
Forum Posts: 57
Poetry Contest Description
Put yourself in there shoes
Tonight I thought about homeless veterans and they deal with the horrors of war when they come home. I want you to put yourself in there shoes and see what they see through their thoughts and eyes.
mischief_cheesecak
Forum Posts: 48
Twisted Dreamer
3
Joined 25th Apr 2014Forum Posts: 48
I really like this topic idea to do, I have a question if there are any rules that needs to be followed like limited amount of words,or pnly poem & prose, or can we write anything (short story,lyrics, etc...) just making sure but I would love to participate
<3 Jess <3
<3 Jess <3
Austin_Rura
Austin Rura
Forum Posts: 327
Austin Rura
Thought Provoker
6
Joined 6th Dec 2013Forum Posts: 327
does it have to be a new poem?
johnrot
Forum Posts: 3645
Tyrant of Words
21
Joined 10th Oct 2012Forum Posts: 3645
one day we all miss pete
hey Luther
fire up that saxophone up on the fifth floor balcony
I ain't doin nothin but sitting around here tryin
to play out another broken heart
man the quarter has changed
i just brush it off my shoulders
fire up a smoke
flip my collar
and wander
the trashcan alley cats are skinnier this month
more winter rain
leaves less warm food in the dumpsters
yo i know this one guy named Pete
who is gonna be so fuckin famous!
he's my favorite lyricist
he just needs a call from his daughter
ever since the V.A. cut off his disability
she has'nt been comin around much
he's no casanova
but man can he wine and dine a paragraph
from every consonant to vowel to slippery syllable
to horrible heartfelt truth you did'nt even ever really wanna know
yeh he gets it in
i thought about splitting one of my scores
with this hooker i'm a bit too familiar with
to have her call the payphone down on 6th and marek
and i'd run to the alley behind marqueze's bistro
and yell pete!!!!!
it's cornelia man!!!
cornelia who???????
conrnelia marie!!!!!!!!
that half eaten croissant can wait
cmon bro her dime
let's go
i would have scripted her to say all the right lies
like don't worry i know
no matter what it's alright
off course we'll get together soon
just to try to get him back on his feet
encourage him
a lil bit
to provide something for someone
i think that's what he needs
the most lucrative commodity in these parts
hope
that maybe if people we're riding his ticket
just because he ran into some money
he would still feel just a lil
loved
but i'd hate it if someone
tricked me into thinkin god was on the phone
and would like to finally review
a few of my notes
and i need all the scores i can get nowadays to myself
so i don't
i bum him a few smokes
and make my way up to the pub on 12th
see genine on the way
not the lame comic
this one has 1 less double chin
and has played a much more tragic part
than any that other talentless actress could ever aspire to
genine plays a mean guitar
but she ain't doin nothin but sitting around here gettin older
i love her song about Pete
about how one day she makes her way back downtown
and he's nowhere to be seen
maybe absence does make the heart grow fonder
bout time Pete....
hey Luther
fire up that saxophone up on the fifth floor balcony
I ain't doin nothin but sitting around here tryin
to play out another broken heart
man the quarter has changed
i just brush it off my shoulders
fire up a smoke
flip my collar
and wander
the trashcan alley cats are skinnier this month
more winter rain
leaves less warm food in the dumpsters
yo i know this one guy named Pete
who is gonna be so fuckin famous!
he's my favorite lyricist
he just needs a call from his daughter
ever since the V.A. cut off his disability
she has'nt been comin around much
he's no casanova
but man can he wine and dine a paragraph
from every consonant to vowel to slippery syllable
to horrible heartfelt truth you did'nt even ever really wanna know
yeh he gets it in
i thought about splitting one of my scores
with this hooker i'm a bit too familiar with
to have her call the payphone down on 6th and marek
and i'd run to the alley behind marqueze's bistro
and yell pete!!!!!
it's cornelia man!!!
cornelia who???????
conrnelia marie!!!!!!!!
that half eaten croissant can wait
cmon bro her dime
let's go
i would have scripted her to say all the right lies
like don't worry i know
no matter what it's alright
off course we'll get together soon
just to try to get him back on his feet
encourage him
a lil bit
to provide something for someone
i think that's what he needs
the most lucrative commodity in these parts
hope
that maybe if people we're riding his ticket
just because he ran into some money
he would still feel just a lil
loved
but i'd hate it if someone
tricked me into thinkin god was on the phone
and would like to finally review
a few of my notes
and i need all the scores i can get nowadays to myself
so i don't
i bum him a few smokes
and make my way up to the pub on 12th
see genine on the way
not the lame comic
this one has 1 less double chin
and has played a much more tragic part
than any that other talentless actress could ever aspire to
genine plays a mean guitar
but she ain't doin nothin but sitting around here gettin older
i love her song about Pete
about how one day she makes her way back downtown
and he's nowhere to be seen
maybe absence does make the heart grow fonder
bout time Pete....
Zazzles
Broomie
Forum Posts: 1799
Broomie
Tyrant of Words
24
Joined 23rd Nov 2013Forum Posts: 1799
Wow Jr, deep really deep.
FlakyPorcupine
Joined 5th Mar 2014
Forum Posts: 20
Lost Thinker
Forum Posts: 20
Posting in here because I really want to try to write one up.
Anonymous
Bob
We'd go trout fishing in the Smokies
he could find a honey hole and read tracks like a native
on rare occasions i'd see the kid who left for the war
he gave his life for the cause no matter what his pulse said
because mostly he'd talk about shooting ice water in his veins
for the sensation at least if he had nothing else
those needles of morphine had been his only friends
when the rest of them became communist casualties
of a failed democracy
sometimes he'd pull up a fish and grin like he'd used magic
with eyes squinting in the sunshine like he was young again
other times he'd hear a noise that set off the nerves
and the flashbacks
there were Vietcong behind every bush for all he knew
and a house to maintain would have been too much
with benefits that seemed meant to mock
so he'd walk
sometimes he'd get in touch
and fishing was the least of what he taught me
We'd go trout fishing in the Smokies
he could find a honey hole and read tracks like a native
on rare occasions i'd see the kid who left for the war
he gave his life for the cause no matter what his pulse said
because mostly he'd talk about shooting ice water in his veins
for the sensation at least if he had nothing else
those needles of morphine had been his only friends
when the rest of them became communist casualties
of a failed democracy
sometimes he'd pull up a fish and grin like he'd used magic
with eyes squinting in the sunshine like he was young again
other times he'd hear a noise that set off the nerves
and the flashbacks
there were Vietcong behind every bush for all he knew
and a house to maintain would have been too much
with benefits that seemed meant to mock
so he'd walk
sometimes he'd get in touch
and fishing was the least of what he taught me
JohnFeddeler
Forum Posts: 325
Tyrant of Words
83
Joined 18th Jan 2013Forum Posts: 325
cardboard kingdom
a superhero doesn’t need a worksong.
he rushes into burning buildings & brings out every
grateful tenant unharmed. he swoops down & grabs
in his arms the pretty girl who has somehow fallen
off a cliff, then flies into space to deflect a meteor on
a collision course with Earth. they hang medals around
his neck, & the damsels whose distress he has vanquished
show their appreciation with lavish kisses.
when the black man sings about workin’ on the chain gang,
the guy with the sore back moans about loading 16 tons,
the tubercular crew stumbles reluctantly toward another
shift, workin’ in the coal mine, I know those songs. the tunes
are etched in my soul, ‘cause I never was a hero.
on a dusty shelf in an abandoned library, is the book that
nobody reads. soiled cover containing crumbling parchment
pages, mouldering binding, ink blurred & streaked:
the book of my life.
I’ve walked thru jungles with strong men who have shaken
the mountains with their trembling, & shattered the sky,
broken every star, with their screams.
when I look back over the years of my arduous journey, I see
clearly the reason for the trials of my past, & of my future:
the hourglass is cracked,
and the sands of time run red…
it’s been said that on the shining day of that final
Judgement, when we all march into heaven, the first shall
be last & the last first. If that’s true, I will be at the head
of that broken parade.
a superhero doesn’t need a worksong.
he rushes into burning buildings & brings out every
grateful tenant unharmed. he swoops down & grabs
in his arms the pretty girl who has somehow fallen
off a cliff, then flies into space to deflect a meteor on
a collision course with Earth. they hang medals around
his neck, & the damsels whose distress he has vanquished
show their appreciation with lavish kisses.
when the black man sings about workin’ on the chain gang,
the guy with the sore back moans about loading 16 tons,
the tubercular crew stumbles reluctantly toward another
shift, workin’ in the coal mine, I know those songs. the tunes
are etched in my soul, ‘cause I never was a hero.
on a dusty shelf in an abandoned library, is the book that
nobody reads. soiled cover containing crumbling parchment
pages, mouldering binding, ink blurred & streaked:
the book of my life.
I’ve walked thru jungles with strong men who have shaken
the mountains with their trembling, & shattered the sky,
broken every star, with their screams.
when I look back over the years of my arduous journey, I see
clearly the reason for the trials of my past, & of my future:
the hourglass is cracked,
and the sands of time run red…
it’s been said that on the shining day of that final
Judgement, when we all march into heaven, the first shall
be last & the last first. If that’s true, I will be at the head
of that broken parade.
FPulver
Joined 16th Sep 2013
Forum Posts: 57
Twisted Dreamer
Forum Posts: 57
no, just open your heart. I am submitting one today, that is not too long but is right to the point.
FPulver
Joined 16th Sep 2013
Forum Posts: 57
Twisted Dreamer
Forum Posts: 57
submit what ever your want to submit. Please let it be your work.
FPulver
Joined 16th Sep 2013
Forum Posts: 57
Twisted Dreamer
Forum Posts: 57
excellent work so far
FPulver
Joined 16th Sep 2013
Forum Posts: 57
Twisted Dreamer
Forum Posts: 57
Homeless Vet
What you get is what you see
Every day you pass by me
I wonder what thoughts are going through your head
When you see me lying down on my concrete bed
I can see your thoughts running through your mind
“What in the hell is this man living a life that is so confined”
Yes I know these thoughts very well
Because I thought the same way before I went to a place I call hell
You walk by and just stare
I know that you just don’t care
Well it hurts me to see you walk by me everyday
And act like you don’t even care as you hurry away
Only if you can see thing s that I’ve seen and done
Then you finally might understand where I coming from
It is a place that you will never know
But it is a place that less than 1% of America will ever go
Only if you can see thing s that I’ve seen and done
Then your thoughts might be a different one
That is a place I call hell is war
If I could have seen my future in front of me then I probably would not have joined the Corps
My life is full of memories that have turned me from being mentally strong to mentally weak
only if you could take the time to stop and speak
Then you can see what I have gone thru
To make this place a better place for me and you
What you get is what you see
Every day you pass by me
I wonder what thoughts are going through your head
When you see me lying down on my concrete bed
I can see your thoughts running through your mind
“What in the hell is this man living a life that is so confined”
Yes I know these thoughts very well
Because I thought the same way before I went to a place I call hell
You walk by and just stare
I know that you just don’t care
Well it hurts me to see you walk by me everyday
And act like you don’t even care as you hurry away
Only if you can see thing s that I’ve seen and done
Then you finally might understand where I coming from
It is a place that you will never know
But it is a place that less than 1% of America will ever go
Only if you can see thing s that I’ve seen and done
Then your thoughts might be a different one
That is a place I call hell is war
If I could have seen my future in front of me then I probably would not have joined the Corps
My life is full of memories that have turned me from being mentally strong to mentally weak
only if you could take the time to stop and speak
Then you can see what I have gone thru
To make this place a better place for me and you
viollette
Joined 14th Apr 2014
Forum Posts: 17
Lost Thinker
Forum Posts: 17
“The whiskey on his breath sometimes chokes them
Drinking has become his friend and his lover.
His clothes smell of cheap roadside cigars
His lips are cracked” so they say, but so is my heart.
They seem to be afraid of me; “That is the war bastard”
Little girls scream and run away some stop and stare when I pass by.
A deep black scar carved on my face, I got it from the Irish lad
I should be getting the praise. I won the war for them.
Look at him, “His castle is made of cardboard
His folded hands a pillow.”
They did not see me on the battle field
They did not see me fighting for their sorry lives.
I hear their voices in the wind
Now that I have no legs they call me useless.
I live on the streets day and night
I have no home you see; the homeless veteran
Veteran……they do not even realize.
their eyes say it all
their faces show it all
they are disgusted by me
they say I'm like a stain you see
is this what i left home for
and burnt in the desert sun?
i fought well i don't deny
just to lose everything and everyone i had for you to spit in my face in the streets as you walk on by!!
Drinking has become his friend and his lover.
His clothes smell of cheap roadside cigars
His lips are cracked” so they say, but so is my heart.
They seem to be afraid of me; “That is the war bastard”
Little girls scream and run away some stop and stare when I pass by.
A deep black scar carved on my face, I got it from the Irish lad
I should be getting the praise. I won the war for them.
Look at him, “His castle is made of cardboard
His folded hands a pillow.”
They did not see me on the battle field
They did not see me fighting for their sorry lives.
I hear their voices in the wind
Now that I have no legs they call me useless.
I live on the streets day and night
I have no home you see; the homeless veteran
Veteran……they do not even realize.
their eyes say it all
their faces show it all
they are disgusted by me
they say I'm like a stain you see
is this what i left home for
and burnt in the desert sun?
i fought well i don't deny
just to lose everything and everyone i had for you to spit in my face in the streets as you walk on by!!
FPulver
Joined 16th Sep 2013
Forum Posts: 57
Twisted Dreamer
Forum Posts: 57
violet very deep.... sure you are nor homeless
mischief_cheesecak
Forum Posts: 48
Twisted Dreamer
3
Joined 25th Apr 2014Forum Posts: 48
The day I returned home
They called me their Hero
The strong one from beyond
If they only knew
What lies with in
I awake from a sweaty dream
It haunts me every night
The gun powder residue still lingers in the air
It feels like I'm still there
The paranoia arises on more days than one
Left
and
Lost
Without help
Am I returning back
to the deserts of hell?
The doc says I'm healthy
My therapist says I'll make it
But my mind tells me other wise
Feeling like this everyday
Is draining me more then when I was away
The duty to save others, besides myself
was appreciated to my country
but the mission has changed
a 360 towards me
Realizing I'm here were I need to be
I'm finally home
and free
They called me their Hero
The strong one from beyond
If they only knew
What lies with in
I awake from a sweaty dream
It haunts me every night
The gun powder residue still lingers in the air
It feels like I'm still there
The paranoia arises on more days than one
Left
and
Lost
Without help
Am I returning back
to the deserts of hell?
The doc says I'm healthy
My therapist says I'll make it
But my mind tells me other wise
Feeling like this everyday
Is draining me more then when I was away
The duty to save others, besides myself
was appreciated to my country
but the mission has changed
a 360 towards me
Realizing I'm here were I need to be
I'm finally home
and free