Christopher
New member
I REALLY need an actual answer, please!
The Homeless Man
I see him stand streetlight rays.
He shivers from the dark.
Every night he shakes hands
With the incoming night.
The grinning moon brings him his
Nightmares.
The grinning moon offers him cold-served
Fear.
A pepper and salt beard sprout from his creased face,
Smudged with gritty life
And blurred by smelly fate.
Moonlight eyes peek from his denim hood.
Although they are so careless,
They scold me for my luck
And beg me to change his.
His hands are florescent skeletons
And his body a pile of wrinkly firewood.
He’s just crumpled against the gray, skyscraper world,
Life playing like film in his bright eyes.
Sometimes he laughs,
His hallowed-cheek face thrown into the sky.
His head rolls around on his shoulders.
He points and barks and grins so wide,
But there’s nothing to laugh at.
He laughs hard enough to summon fat, round tears.
He dances like a merry man in a crowded, gold tavern.
All I see is a man grinning,
But at a different world.
And sometimes he cries,
He shouts and runs and fights so hard,
Against demons who you can only see with special glasses.
He begs for his own life,
Which he can’t even see.
But he doesn’t see the eyes flit
From behind car windows rolling by.
Those gray faces don’t shed a drop of anything,
They just roll on by.
And he laughs.
The Homeless Man
I see him stand streetlight rays.
He shivers from the dark.
Every night he shakes hands
With the incoming night.
The grinning moon brings him his
Nightmares.
The grinning moon offers him cold-served
Fear.
A pepper and salt beard sprout from his creased face,
Smudged with gritty life
And blurred by smelly fate.
Moonlight eyes peek from his denim hood.
Although they are so careless,
They scold me for my luck
And beg me to change his.
His hands are florescent skeletons
And his body a pile of wrinkly firewood.
He’s just crumpled against the gray, skyscraper world,
Life playing like film in his bright eyes.
Sometimes he laughs,
His hallowed-cheek face thrown into the sky.
His head rolls around on his shoulders.
He points and barks and grins so wide,
But there’s nothing to laugh at.
He laughs hard enough to summon fat, round tears.
He dances like a merry man in a crowded, gold tavern.
All I see is a man grinning,
But at a different world.
And sometimes he cries,
He shouts and runs and fights so hard,
Against demons who you can only see with special glasses.
He begs for his own life,
Which he can’t even see.
But he doesn’t see the eyes flit
From behind car windows rolling by.
Those gray faces don’t shed a drop of anything,
They just roll on by.
And he laughs.