Here are the results from my teeny tiny summer mini-contest. Thank you for those who participated.
(UPDATED) Long Time No Update + Mini-contest!Quick Update, August 1st, 2014 - Extending the contest to August 31st. I realize summer is addictive and a lot of folks are not around, I'd like to try to get more entries - thanks!
Hello! I hope everyone is doing just fine and dandy.
I have a little announcement - a brainstorm, if you will.
With summer here, in its great big blaze of glory, I got to thinking...
I saw this youtube video today: Giving the Homeless New Shoes and it made me upset. I could relate on so many levels, and it was lovely to see somebody doing something that wasn't blaming, bashing, hurting or awful to the people in the video.
There are an awful lot of homeless people. Whatever their reasons, there are too many. And there isn't a lot of awareness projected towards these people. Summer is hot, the weather is unpredictable, sometimes it's stormy - tornadoes, hurricanes, severe thunderstorms, soaring temperatures. While a lot of us are comfort
LostlessLess than lost. Lostless.
Time doesn't exist between the stab of pavement
on your back and the pain in the ass.
Life became a stream of blues after the first drag,
once the cup of money was drunk.
I've a cocoon tarpaulin,
woolen womb to hide from the cars in.
But I still get reborn every day, gritting,
a new doorway to "mother" me horribly.
This city is dysfunctional, a dangerous factory.
My moon is a urinal,
a public toilet pissed on with graffiti.
In its shine I grip on to the last
drips of sleep.
Sunshine? Streelamps. Fake.
I get thirsty in the burning gas balls
of society's eyes. Their paranoia brings
in insomnia, and I have no door to open for her
so she gets straight to the stabbing.
Stomach growl after stomach growl entering my conscience,
jerking me into the synthetic dawns
of prostituted neon again. Again. AGAIN.
I lie on the street like an atheist Lazarus.
Faithless, hopeless, lostless. No messiah but the ones
who preach through unread pamphlets. Useless.
I already have a
To a Curbside Womanstretching her legs over
the sidewalk beneath the
overpass, ankles crossed,
feet wearing dirt like socks
but her dress feels like silk,
and her hands hold each
other like puzzle pieces
This is enough for her
This is enough
for her This is
enough for her
HomelessJason…no Johnny…Tyler? What did matter?
I would see him every day walking home from school. He’d just sit there with a sign that said “Hungry. Anything will help. God Bless.” And a single crutch lying beside him; being “injured” would get him more money, I used to think.
What a bum, I used to think, get a job.
I could get a job, why couldn’t he? It wasn’t the greatest job, but why couldn’t he just get a job at a McDonald’s or what not?
I would walk around him. I would walk on the other side of the road. He disgusted me. He was putrid, foul, and he just looked so, unsanitary. I didn’t want to be near him, I didn’t want to look.
He must be a gambling addict, I thought to myself.
Once in a while he would have the audacity to ask, no, rather he begged, people for money. A dollar? How would that help? I couldn’t even buy a can of soda with a dollar.
He was pathetic, and I didn’t want to associate mysel
Honorable mention: The Miracle by clara-01
Thank you everyone! (And sorry for the results delay)