| Juice Online Poetry & Art
Publishing since 1970 | ![]() 2008 |
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Many of these poets have Books. Find them at Amazon Books: Just type in their names. |
So may times he gave clothes to the cold…Gave Drunk Butch a ride to the homeless shelter, a shoulder to cry on-- or just a word of encouragement to those who never heard anything positive about themselves. The irony was that this selfless man would cry when alone—seeking the glory of a God that was out there somewhere…but seemed to be just out of his reach. The drifters, the boozers, the beggars bellowed his name while he sat in a humbled chair… Full of sadness. Looks out the window Wishing he could enjoy the falling snow Wiping a tear away. He gave, and gave, and gave He never asked, asked, asked… Only alone would he wonder aloud…when will the goodness be felt. Not just within him-but for all of the victims…who were shunned to a life of belittled stares and verbal taunts. He asked these questions alone…the trudge of suicide always present…but never portrayed to others… Why should they suffer over his misery? But not to be dead… While already inside a cell… This was his journey, his catcalls in solitude… This is him… |