Observations of a Warrior Poet. T. John Mattson

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СКАЧАТЬ to control

      This power given those?

      Maybe all doors should be opened,

      With none left to close.

      Homeless Hunger, Homeless High

      Half of a day spent

      Just looking for food.

      It’s no wonder that some

      Might have an attitude

      Constantly looked down upon,

      It’s easy to feel low.

      Hard to find comfort,

      When you’re always told to go.

      Can any of us lay blame

      When these souls seek a “high”?

      Since simpler pleasures, once known,

      Are but a memory and long sigh.

      Sadly, this need

      Has a price that is well renown

      In that universally, what goes up,

      Must also come down.

      Night

      The night belongs to the cricket’s song,

      At times the only thing heard.

      The trees, aglow by streetlamps,

      Much like the biblical bush being burned.

      Alas, the weary can rest their heads

      For a time to a tranquil peace.

      Only the nocturnal, in their various forms,

      Come alive with relative ease.

      It’s a time of respite, renewal, and reflection

      Toward a previous day’s events

      And to wonder, dare I say even,

      Dream a bit,

      At tomorrow’s new challenges…

      Tomorrow’s new expense.

      Alpha

      My friend, listen close.

      Since I have shared this same pain

      Living where no one’s allowed

      To be equal, beneath only, no gain.

      This path, when followed upon,

      Can yield only more lost,

      For to keep others down,

      More harm is promised—

      More harm the cost.

      Without Home

      There are many with broken spirits,

      Roaming and wandering, day to day.

      The great majority of these people, all types,

      Would much rather have a home and stay.

      Most are seeking what many take for granted,

      Those basic things to survive,

      While others hoping for a simple chance

      To chase those dreams and thrive.

      Men and women, young and old,

      There are no restrictions apparent here,

      And though there are some resources

      That exist to help, often, they’re not near.

      As these people look to be whole again,

      Searching for those missing pieces not easily found,

      Many often feel as if shackled, with

      Steep roads ahead—perpetually bound.

      Acknowledgment

      Hey! Yes, you!

      I’m right here in front.

      No, not invisible,

      I’m not bearing that brunt.

      I would hope in the future,

      Kind words might cross your lips,

      But if not, anything would be better

      Than that blank stare and hands on hips.

      Don’t fear the connection.

      It might even bring joy.

      Remember how you couldn’t get enough

      Of that first Christmas toy?

      So please keep in mind,

      A simple smile, an occasional hello

      May go a long way toward another,

      Providing a much-needed “social pillow.”

      La-La Land

      Oh my, how this City of Angels

      Has grown

      From a once small pueblo,

      To this huge melting pot, at times unknown.

      People come here

      For something felt very deep.

      Maybe it’s the weather or the stars,

      Or the dreams while asleep.

      It’s felt growing pains, like other cities,

      To current to forget

      Such as smog, traffic jams, gangs…

      All placing their bet.

      That even this huge, as some

      May say, suburban sprawl

      Will move people to a better place,

      Even if the freeways are a crawl.

      Reflection

      Mounted to a wall,

      No СКАЧАТЬ