Homeless Idols

House the Homeless - from Council to Homeless Persons

Dystopian cartwheels in the caterwauling life we lead
staring constantly at the satisfaction all around.
Bitching occasionally to satisfy unmet desires
that we struggle to attain even at unreasonable cost.
The hunt for happiness overwhelms the basics
and sometimes its worth it whatever the price.
Disciples of a daily rut where we stay stuck and mired
deeply in the mud of a situation not planned for.
In the moments of joy where our desire for completion
coincides with our faithful love and devotion,
we find a peace despite the discord that is without compare.
In the moments where we falter under the weight
surviving as only survivors can and are willing to do,
we have to remember the strength we share to stumble on.
Nothing becomes the norm and requests for aid
cut as a degrading act that dehumanizes us further.
Outlasting the shame of each failure and the disgust it brings
resolutely waking each morning to the grim gray of sameness.
As upper class homeless we are on the outskirts,
enjoying luxuries like cold running water and a toilet,
that the rest of goddamn society imagines are god given.
Fear that the envy of our possessions will lead to thievery
leads us to close the door and have knives on hand.
Eating another can of soup in mid-summer heat
because the soup kitchens provide cans and bread regularly
and its too goddamn expensive to purchase a real meal.
Endlessly pretending that things will just fix themselves
because the reality of work necessary to get out of this situation
is beyond daunting, it’s easier to capitulate and get high.
Holding tight to special items because they are memories
encapsulated in the fur of a stuffed animal or favorite shirt.
When you’ve lost it all so many times before
the littlest things can have such an enormous significance
you might even indulge in a treasure box for safe keeping.
Solid week long stretches without bathing
because the $7 per person to shower at the truck stop can’t be found.
People look at you with mixed contempt and confusion
because if you dress nicely and present well
it defies logic that you should be in such a predicament.
Putting on makeup diligently just to feel pretty for a moment
scrape the grunge of sweat stained skin stickily from your body.
Oh yes, there is freedom to be found if you chose to indulge
and let the wash of illicit and irregular activities become your home.
A beer and some vodka to wash down the weather and heat
along with the anxious discord of stress over the unknown of tomorrow.
A shot or a bowl of glass to provide focused determination
the confidence to strive for success into the oncoming crush
or an opportunity to zone out and lose days at a time without emotion.
Some black tar to sleep peacefully and stay dazed
no thought and no fear, no nothing at all because you’ve gone dead inside.
Its a slide down into a pit of needles and loss
where the bottom can always fall out and take you lower,
lower than you ever imagined possible in such insidious ways.
Bravo to those that soldier their way out of the muck
find themselves a spot of sanity and personal identity
allow themselves the grace of overcoming through grit.
Fucking monsters of life having been torn through the gutter
when they stand proud and defiant despite their obstacles
applaud those hard mother fuckers that didn’t give in,
defied all the odds and managed to rejoin the world on their own terms.

Homeless Drumbeat


It’s intrinsic,

Chaotically living life in transit,

Dystopian swing shift watch the hours count down is all you can manage.

A metronome rhythm rattling then clicking the only sound.

Grains sliding then slipping,

Crumbling, dividing then quickening.

Grit in the eyes where bleary sand sticks,

Blending euphoria to exhaustion is one nasty mix.

Sure–change glued in amber,

Stuck like a beetle or bug,

Mosquito frozen solid while filled up on blood.

That locus of focus shifted heavily to stone,

Life essence trapped then mired,

In the middle of all while forever alone.

She Saved a Life With a Cup of Water and a Smile

A single cup of water given for free to a thirsty and tired traveler may have truly been life saving.  His kidneys had been compromised had not had luck finding a kindly individual over his hike to get back home from the hospital that would consider buying any sort of liquid in nearly 8 hours during a blazing summer in New England.

She didn’t judge as every store in Brockton, MA had – or as the nearly connecting “MiniMart” located nearly next door had. He was soaked head to toe in foul sweat from a confusing night involving hallucinations, collapsing, sleeping in water, and convulsions.

Crowning the clearly homeless ensemble was a backpack, rough unkempt beard fuzz, a shredded tongue a sickly shade of white to match cracked lips, baggy pants with pockets and twitching and compulsive check-ups on everything to ensure it was still there.

That young woman didn’t know he had been in a hospital that morning because he thought he may have had a seizure or a stroke at the age of during the night and was too ashamed and confused to ask for help from his housemates. He had only slept 1-hr out of the last 96 despite walking 8+miles a day,. She didn’t even bother to give a quick “I need to check with the boss first.” Her first reaction was a smile and a “Sure.”

To someone who had so regularly scraped the bottom, and had been turned down over, and over, and over that morning based on first sight. Despite the apparent urgency for those of us stuck in the sun, even tap water was off limits.

It was a simple action for you to do Ms. Sarah/Sara – but I thank you and would give a nod to the owner as well, ;-). You’ve got someone special there, and he appreciated that Styrofoam cup (that even had ice)  in the way a dying man does his next breath.

Keep being you, and thank you, meant from the heart – (hoping that you check the workplace page from time to time and get to see this, 🙂


“The smallest act of kindness can return a spark of hope and belief when those fires seem dimmest.”


P.S. This place Randolph Famous Pizza where she works, has some of the best looking (and I’m told AMAZING) pizzas on the South Shore are.

Randolph Famous Pizza Logo