Tramp With Cramp

Loneliness within a horde of humans
Moving like wildebeest across the earth!
Hoping for a handout, not a sermon,
For money, not a cup of tea,
Nor food they watch me eat
Instead of drugs they think I'll buy later.
No alcohol upon my breath, yet still condemned
By the prejudice against every tramp.
Beggars can't be choosers.
Take pennies as well as pounds
And foreign coins given by smart alec sadists.
Brave the chill in my bones.
Autumn turns to Winter.
Extra socks! Long Johns under grimy trousers.
Wouldn't do to wear clean ones.
No sympathy, no kudos, no street cred!
Just looks of disdain, only more so...

by Denis Martindale

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