All along the clocktower

All along the Clock tower

Farewell and goodnight ended my show tonight,
on the corner of west street and row.
Under the steeple, I beg from the people,
and slander them when they say no.

Some civvies stop to buy sweets from the shop,
so that’s when I go for the cash.
Some of them try to avoid meeting eyes,
but I need to replenish my stash.

The friends that I keep and the places I sleep,
are wherever they know my name.
I shed no tears when consuming my beers,
and wallowing in my own shame.

In the UK there’s a magazine sold by homeless people called The Big Issue. Towards the back, there used to be a poetry section. This is a pastiche of those. It was meant to be endearing…

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Categorised as: Attempts at poetry, Embarrassing