Life Unplanned


Remember me, homeless, headless, bedless, a doped up dope?
No beginning, no horizons, no end, no hope?
Shop doorways, litter bins, cider and needles,
Many days in stupefied haze, lying prostrate in the street,
Caring nothing, blurrily watching so many busy feet
Splashing black puddles into my face
I wasn’t a face to be killed
I was a space to be filled.
People gave me money, I didn’t beg.
Begging was work, hardship and dull.
People still gave me money.
Were they fools? Was I the fool?
At times I could walk and talk,
Glance at windows, see my stooped reflection.
I saw a street vagabond, innocent and cool.
I had many women in alley ways, public toilets.
I don’t know if I did, I just suppose.
Like a bull to slaughter, led by the nose.

So nobody’s fool our Mr Cool
Restricted by no one or anyone’s rule.
Until the day he died
And his body thrown into a hole
And upon his grave, a toilet bowl.
Not for flowers but for it’s original use,
For his earthly comrades to sluice their juice.

From I and me to he.
I and he wonders why.
Does it scare even them that they die.

I and he look up through rain to the sky,
Buddies we are, we hold hands.
Tears fall from our faces.
Life firsthand, life unplanned.

Some of your work fills me with sadness, but it is always brilliant, always with your finger on the pulse of the human condition.

Selfishly, I always like your romantic things best, but greatly admire your ability to create pieces like this one too.

Please email and let me know how you're doing. Do you realize that sometime this year we'll have known each other for nine years? Hardly seems possible, does it? One of these years our dreams will come true.

Lots of Love and MANY HUGS,

Alice