Sometimes When I See The Opulence Of Gods House I Feel Sorry For The Homeless on the Streets, a photo by firoze shakir photographerno1 on Flickr.
wretched
hungry sick
under nourished
waiting for the
real jesus and
not the priest
to get them back
on their feet
the dirt the grime
the filth the stench
fetid surroundings
humidity and heat
come monsoon
heavy showers
drenched to the bone
in utter defeat
a plastic covering for
their emaciated bodies
serves as winding sheet
the cubans will finally
celebrate good Friday
a christan thought
a papal legacy complete
while the priest sits with his bowl
of porridge in the sacristy
the beggar has nothing to eat
no mother Theresa
no living saint ..
a poem on stilts
barefeet ..
truth bitter and sweet
fucked fate the beggar
could avoid but never cheat
