Street of Lies
The streets are filled with souls wanting, lost lives that live lies to survive, rather than face the reality they alone have created. Choice is always ours, and although we may feel sorry for those lost in poverty and crime and all manner of survival ploys, we individually are always responsible for our circumstance. Realising we are able to overcome any adversity is not easy for some, but that truth can transform what they believe as an impossible task. This poem is about such streets, where desperation is a constant, and happiness is non-existent.
Lonely drifting flotsam rise
to greet the breeze and dusty lies,
remnants of the night now passed,
bottles glint in rays repast,
as shadows cringe.
Swirling they in blustered time,
scraps and paper flighted, rhyme,
as one homeless man in a foetal embrace
far away, no conscious trace,
in death-like stillness.
Long shadows dim mark the streets,
infringing light as dreams release,
but not a stir from lives on a lease,
pay for grit and a relenting, seek,
each day another burden.
All those words from night’s pretence,
echo hard in a waking sense,
regrets so filled with rancid lies,
self-abuse and silent cries
stale in their memory.
But as light enters this abyss,
they stir to know there’s more of this,
and stumble they to feel alive,
bourbon breakfast and compromise
just to keep on going.
And thoughts of crime and money speak,
another day to havoc reek,
anything to avenge the thoughts,
the realisation of days fraught with despair,
far easier not to care.
Lethargic bodies wander,
soundless steps on stony paths, ponder,
how they came to be
in this cold and heartless sea of humanity,
bleeding calamity.
Solemn faces never grace,
fallen souls, human traces
yet dulled down to a mechanical whole,
emotions less able to hold
in this the street of lies.
Tony DeLorger © 2018
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It is a hard life for the many who choose to live that way. Great piece the shows the harsh truth of those on the streets. Well done, Tony.
Glad you appreciated it Phyllis. Cheers!
Although I feel the harshness of your tone, I feel for many of these people, for it is never I to judge why they got there, or why they can’t pull themselves from the gutter of the streets Tony. Yet I totally emphasize with your directness and their one sided dead end life in the harsh streets, alleys and bridges under. It’s a difficult life out their no doubt, I know of it and have felt it’s sting. For those who find the help, see the light, grasp for it and follow a new direction of saving themselves, my hat is taken off to them, because for every one saved, many are lost forever. Their hearts, bodies and souls broken, never to recover and fall victims to despair and ultimately a sad death in the streets. Well penned my friend, I felt every word.
It is a little harsh, but my emphasis is really about choices and possibility. Often these poeple are destined by circumstance to learn from this experience and circumstance, and as you say, who are we to judge. Poverty is not necessarily the crushing of a soul. Many souls living in dire circumstances are happy beyond our complaining lives, even as they face diversity. In reality, no matter how it may appear, we all face the same contentions and hardship, wrapped in different clothing. What’s one persons pain, could well be comfort for another. Again, this is life’s path, filled with purpose and diversity. Glad you appreciated the work Vincent. Take care.
Awesome verse. Life on the streets is always a struggle for survival. Thank you for the poetic journey on the street of lies.
Glad you appreciated it Rasma. Take care.