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Tag Archives: Homeless

SANTA WON’T BE VISITING ME

homeless

I live on the streets that’s me

No home to call my own

I play hide and seek

That make’s my life bleak

No warm clothes to wear

And no-one to share

Life is so cheap

I steal food to eat

I live on the street

With nothing to eat

I see people spending money

But I have none

I cannot buy presents

Santa won’t be visiting me

My family pass by

But they do not see

The misery

I endure

They are so happy

I am so sad

I live on the street

With nothing to eat.

Thomas Sims

The Man – Promote Yourself

I just began following you today, and I love  the idea of being included in someone else’s blog. Proves that I’m not the only one who thinks my stuff is decent. 🙂 (Okay, I admit, some times I don’t even think it’s decent.)

I’ve included a handful of poems in this email. All are written by me, Trysh L. Thompson. I live in Kentucky, USA. Nothing really exciting about my existence. Some of the poems included have been posted, or are in queue, at my blog chromeprincess.wordpress.com.

Most of my poems deal with death, and it’s because of the slap in the face I had with it when I was 26. It’s changed my life forever

homeless-veteran

“Have you nothing to spare
To show this shriveled, homeless vet you care?
Twice-over I risked my life for you,
A complete stranger, but that’s just what soldiers do.
I watched my friends suffer and die,
As I continued to battle for you and I.
My friends’ lives were not in vain,
Think of that when you vote again.
Don’t you think I’ve tried everything before resorting to this –
Cold, alone, hungry, and homeless?
You would think there would be more out there for me
But they tell me I’m just a washed up soldier with PTSD.
So I’m reduced to begging on the streets,
Relying on the kindness of strangers for the smallest morsel to eat.”

I emptied my wallet, giving it all to the man,
As he took it, his touch lingered on my hand.
“Thank you, from the bottom of my heart,” said he,
“May God bless you as much as he’s blessed me.”

I never saw the old man asking for money again,
He died the next day, a drunken driver ran over him.
I still pass by that corner and smile,
That man taught me the most important lesson I’d learned in a while.

Trysh  L Thompson

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