wrote the below as a sort of comment and protest or just ... seen it too many times and wish it was gone and ... tired of the 5% working on the 90-95% and happier.. P-Five Percent: A room, cave, dark and dreary. a chair rises up but not to the sky, but to cloths, or to a human, figure in dirty clothes, alive or dead? hard to tell, all you can see is the cloths, figure there now and later, lost in dreams or darkness boozed up and lost in a world long dead and lost. Abandoned by all but others of like nature and a bartender thirsting for their money but not for their lives. A heap of what is flesh and bone. Of rags and cloths unwashed. A smell of urine and booze, and body unwashed for weeks. A being crumpled on stool, often for hours unending until closing and thrown out to fend for self in a cold dark world, hoping to find warmth and comfort, but not likely, for all are done with them, for they are chronic in their nature, unwilling or unable to change hopeless drunks or players of games of chance. Pull tabs fall below them on the floor in a heap, as the money they get, or have falls into a bars till. A drink done many times in front, and will there be money for another and another, to might as well have a straw into a bottle with no bottom. For all hope is gone, brain is dead, liver wants relief and smells of it. Stench smelled from feet away Face cragged and suffering from decades of neglect. Eyes dead to the world, mouth drooling booze, and puke Chronic or just plain terminal Once alive, but now just waiting to die. Slow and painful, all cast away for family is done with them for they are selfish, or just lost. Lost to a world uncaring or caring but unable to help, for its hard to lead them away from the water of death they crave, and death style. In places named for holy, speed and northern, they rot slowly and end up homeless and forgotten and dead. Dead slow, or suicidal, all is the same, for its self destruction all the same. Nights of sleeping with persons just for booze. A place to stay, a life of degradation and prostitution and abuse, molested and used. So in this, I say, who cares for the five percent? Detox, and shelter? Police and ambulance? Family who throws them out? Mike Adams 2010 Sorry been working on a poem, about a person or what is left of a person, after years of living in a local bar.. homeless, lost, and forgotten, nearly dead, well, sadly many go there and stay there.. the hidden 5% or maybe the 5% many see but not see past to the 95% who are sober and clean and happy?
Posted on: Sat, 07 Sep 2013 07:56:26 +0000
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