March 5, 2012

  • Mr. BoulderChristina – guest blogger

    My husband doesn’t usually read my posts, but he did read this one http://boulderchristina.xanga.com/759310849/beneath-the-neon-lights/ on homelessness. He is more sensitive than I am, and he wrote a poem about this. I am going to post it for him because he only uses blogging for work. Oh, and his name is Corey. Mr. Corey BoulderChristina. laughing

    There’s an old man
    who doesn’t have a home
    the last time he did
    he didn’t live alone
    He met Joanne
    the day his mother died
    despite Joanne’s faults
    he tried and he tried
    Jojo got sick at 4 am
    three mornings in a row
    Then she confessed to him
    she’s gonna have a child
    not sure if it is his
    He loved Joanne so much
    he forgave her this
     
      Are we responsible
    is it our fault
    There’s a man sleeping
    out on the asphalt
    living on borrowed money
    on borrowed time
    Hey there mister
    Can you spare a dime?
    I gotta call my girl
    she’s having a child
    I haven’t heard her voice
    In quite a long while
     
    There’s an old man
    with a story to tell
    about a girl named Joanne
    who didn’t live so well
    She had a substance problem
    and a baby on the way
    but our man kept working
    fourteen hour days
    He was captured by her beauty
    held by her charm
    He came home from work
    to find a needle in her arm
    Jojo’s on the couch
    her skin cold as ice
    He looked unbelieving
    into her open eyes
    Then he picked up his bag
    and walked out of his home
    And ever since that day
    he’s always been alone

    Are we responsible
    is it our fault
    There’s a man sleeping
    out on the asphalt
    living on borrowed
    money
    on borrowed time
    Hey there mister
    Can you spare a dime?
    I gotta call my girl
    she’s having a child
    I haven’t heard her voice
    In quite a long while

     
     There’s an old man
     living out on the street
     A handful of change
     will feed him for a week
     His mind is trapped in a time
     when things were cheaper
     for an hour and a dime
     He’ll have you thinking deeper
     about what its like
     to live a life that rough
     sleeping out in the open
     where people steal your stuff
     What would it be like
     to never escape
     an event in your life
     to much for you to take
     
     Are we responsible
     is it our fault
     There’s a man sleeping
     out on the asphalt
     living on borrowed money
     on borrowed time
     Hey there mister
     Can you spare a dime?
     I gotta call my girl
     she’s having a child
     I haven’t heard her voice
     In quite a long while


     

     

    Obviously, he is much more poetic than I am. I love that about him. Here he is on our wedding day, isn’t he classy?

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