I was at my Facebook browsing, I was Twittering and grousing
Oâ€™er the dearth of homeless housing and the burden that they bore,
When amidst my wild cantankâ€™ring I befelt a deepfelt hankâ€™ring,
A stirring sort of hankâ€™ring for old Edgar Allenâ€™s lore.
It was from this dark depression that a maundering regression
Stirred within me an accession to reread him, nothing more.
But as I read those words of Poeâ€™s, words of eloquence and prose,
Becoming buried in the woes of the Ravenâ€™s â€œnevermore,â€
I befelt a gladness slowing and a madness, sadness growing;
In my soul it was bestowing darkâ€™ning thoughts of his Lenore
And societyâ€™s loud grousing, seldom doing, always grousing
Oâ€™er the dearth of homeless housing and the burden that they bore.
Now these words, they come betwixt us, twixt the arrogance that picked us,
Fixed us, never kicked us to the dark side of lifeâ€™s war,
Never stole our soul from in us, not with drugs nor mental illness,
To where the dark would ever lure us and a dark mayor could manure us,
Claiming such an act might cure us and the burden that we bore.
Now despite the condemnation, the contaminant relation
Of the fecal trepidation strips our souls down to the core.
Itâ€™s a signal from the leaders we choose, cheaters, bottom feeders,
That weâ€™re bleeders, moaning bleaters, empty pleaders, nothing more.
We donâ€™t stem them, barely hem them or condemn them and their phlegm that
They cast in our direction where our fading insurrection they ignore.
Weâ€™re the masses that are huddled, so easily befuddled that the politicians play us
For the simple fools we are and nothing more.
Between us and the homeless lies a chasm of statistics, a dull grey line betwixt us,
A fading line betwixt us, very nearly naught betwixt us, from our leaders itâ€™s
Just one step to the homeless and the burdens that they bore.
I cannot help my wondering if Poeâ€™s Lenore was wandering
Among the homeless, wandering with the homeless and the burdens that they bore
And was she ever wondering a soul-decaying wondering
Like Edgar Allenâ€™s maundering that burned within his core?
Are we destined thus to wonder, destined thus to wander with our souls
Into the shadows of the homeless, of the sadly hardened homeless and the burdens that they bore?
We can always build them shelters, temporary beds and shelters,
Places we perceive as shelters, but theyâ€™re for our own protection, nothing more.
And some among us, caring, sharing, building bridges more than shelters,
Win our plaudits, though itâ€™s odd itâ€™s through our audits
That we limit what they do and what itâ€™s for.
Should you wonder how God sees us, just recall the words of Jesus,
Through our faults itâ€™s that they seize us: â€œTheyâ€™ll be with us evermore.â€