Written by my HEART, GREGORY ALAN PETERS

(**all copyright remains with the author)

 

---

"Shaman Shoes" by Bas de Gids (artist, The Netherlands)

 

In honor of every homeless person -- living and dead -- The Poem SHUNNED EXHIBITIONS

The morning light illumination pierces my eyes;

Urging me to awaken;

Rolling over -- I moan -- Pulling the blanket over my head;

Not wishing to face the world.

Sitting up -- cursing voices -- mass confusion

Mission rising -- Two hundred men waking;

The background -- A loud din;

The bitter sounds are grating.

Dressing I see a crippled man.

He winces and groans as he stands.

As I brush my teeth I feel the strong urge of nature.

I have toilet paper; but where can find a clean place?

In luck I sneak into the downstairs staff restroom.

After doing my appointed duty; Coming out;

There no silent place to pray.

Sitting at the edge of my bunk;

I pray up anyway.

The memory of a friend comes to mind;

A man small in stature;

But big of heart -- A gentle person

Who always extended kindness.

Soft spoken and easy going;

I can still see him smiling;

He fought hard against fits of debilitating depression.

It became to much;

One day he gave up.

We found him hanging in the basement.

I am haunted by the feeling --

That there was something I could have said or done --

To make a difference;

I should have known.

I am consoled by the belief that Dale is in better place.

My palms are sweating;

I think that could have easily been me.

I hitch up my pants and suck it up.

As walk out the mission doors;

I sip in my coffee.

Cars stopped at a traffic light;

People stair at me as though I am some sort or alien creature

on display at the mission zoo exhibit;

I feel small, worthless, less than dehumanized.

I shake my head and continue on.

On the sidewalk I console a friend;

Who has lost everything in the downward economic spiral;

His wife is staying at one of the women's shelters.

I can see the pain etched on his face.

Their separation grinds hard on him;

But tomorrow will be better;

He will be able to see her.

I wish him a good day and go on my way.

In the parking lot to my left; life is full session;

An insane man is bantering with an invisible person.

A dialog of unending insults;

Reagan comes to mind in the early eighties;

He closed the mental institutions.

Callous and uncaring --

Dumping the mentally ill on mean city streets;

Most do not have doctors or proper medication;

Every year thousands of homeless people die on the street.

For lack of shelter and decent medical care;

On barren streets their pleas rain day and night.

Stripped of their humanity; Left to their own incapable ends.

Human outcasts pushed to the vagabond fringe.

A nation's indifference -- Cold apathetic sin -- What a damn shame;

A benevolent few do advocate; The missions do their best.

The majority could care less.

A teardrop falls from my sunken eyes;

I turn the corner;

The blue rhythm is pervasive.

Seeing abandoned and boarded up buildings;

A grim tapestry of a city in decline,

To my right a wailing street preacher telling no lies

and promising salvation;

At the bus stop weather beaten and grizzled old

warriors of the street drinking pints of cheap wine.

They are trying to kill the pain; But the pain never leaves.

On torn faces; I see their pain; I feel their pain;

Their searing pain reaches deep into my hearts core;

Come with me -- Come an look -- Get close to our world;

And come to understand;

The beautiful well heeled people have left.

Good jobs are gone never to return.

Yes the all American Dream of downsizing and outsourcing;

And we are the left overs.

Societies castaways -- Life happened --

We are the unwanted people -- Who do not count.

Hopelessness and despair fills the hearts of many.

High Mountains -- Handholds Few and Far Between;

I am an actor in this dreary street play.

Sometimes I feel broken suffering the pain

of being rejected, despised, and abandoned;

Like a foreign sculpture on display

in gallery of SHUNNED EXHIBITIONS;

Homeless nation living in unseen shadow lands;

For a blind and apathetic nation we are nonexistent.

A twisted picture off center and tilted;

People what have we done;

People living on the street;

lost are all social graces;

Don't tell us you can't see our faces.

It's late in the afternoon --

I draw on the inner spirit -- 

For the strength to keep my head up:

Continuing my walk; Looking deep in my soul --

I feel this -- Who am I -- Who are you --

And where are we going?

What of this economic oppression -- 

Our system has failed miserably.

America the richest country ever;

We have the power to end poverty and homelessness.

But do we have will?

It is self evident we have the resources.

Advocate for those who have the least.

Become aware -- Pass it on to a neighbor.

Create concrete ways to change the conditions.

Put the tools in our hands we will do the rest.

Back to mission;

The day long at last done;

Night draws nigh --

Her curtain falls across the city.

As I stand -- I breath a waking dream.

Defeat the growing cycle -- Perpetuate a new cycle -

Homeless people are real people.

We have hopes and dreams.

Bring us back home from shadow land;

Into the light of common decency;

I peer out a window -- Under a street lamp

A forgotten man stands -- A stark figure

Shaking against the hard, cold, night;

A gesturing sculpture in a gallery of SHUNNED EXHIBITIONS.

 

 

A satire -- YA WONDER

The alarm goes off --

She gets up -- Her back cracks --

She looks in the mirror--

Her eyes are sagging,

and her stretch marks aren't going away.

Her hair is turning gray and sticking out in strange places;

Fingernails are broken --

The kids are screaming --

The dishes aren't done.

The garbage is overflowing,

and the damn toilet is backed up.

The boss calls -- A coworker has called off --

He wants her in early -- A long day coming --

When she complains;

He tells her to take one for the team.

She's constipated --

She's bloated --

She's starting her period --

The dog has shit on the floor;

And her loving husband asks;

Honey when is breakfast going to be ready?

She's looking for gun;

And ya wonder why she's so bitchy!

 

 

WANDERING MAN (August 2008)

A frowning man, A soul stricken man , A lost man;

He knew no satire nor smile;

In his heart a deep measure of quiet desperation;

Somewhere life had caught up with him;

Many large bags he carried;

The weight so heavy it seemed to crush his soul;

He could not discard discard these millstones.

He wandered the street day and night;

Bright sun or rain;

Only the shadow people were his friends;

All grace had fallen before him;

In the cards of life --

No winners were to be found.

No love , no hate --

Only a deep abiding numbness within;

He wandered looked up at deep blue sky;

It all looked the same -- All was in vain.

He looked here -- He looked there;

He looked everywhere -- It was nowhere.

He was the nowhere man -- Who was now -- hear.

They said his name was Stan,

and where did he go from there?

He wandered, and, wandered, and wandered;

To the town of Nowheresville.

There the winding sidewalks were his home.

I walked past him one day,

and wished him a good day;

He looked through me with a forty mile stare;

I knocked on the door,

and found no one was there.

In his eyes the cupboard was bare;

He walked and wandered

down the side a sidewalk called despair.

On his winding street

one day they found him dead;

They asked me who he was?

I said; The wandering man.

No flower were sent --

No scent so sweet --

Nor tear was shed --

On the tome stone it read;

Here lies a man --

With a million miles on his feet;

The wandering man --

Who wandered to nowhere --

All his pain had ceased;

A weary man finally found his peace.

 

                                                     

FEARS (December 2010)

Fears are here -- Fears over there -- Our fears are everywhere;

Fear the protectors;

At dawn men of Blue Savage Streets kicking in doors;

Morning terrors fleeing in a sweat filled flight.

Darkness beckons;

A privileged black suit of power;

The archetype of economic redistribution;

The trepidation of end day pink slips;

The struggle, The poverty, The fears;

No pity for the poor from whom they have taken so much.

The man a voice of cold hard indifference.

A condescending shout -- The tyrannical order to conform.

The fear that we must look the other way.

Not to rock the boat;

Not to speak the truth;

Blowing the whistle;

A black balled pariah;

An outcast looking in speaking out.

Foreign adventures of military imperialism;

The fomenting torment of lost sons;

Tears for beings coming home in death bed pieces;

Timeless glory seeking the evil riches of wars having no end.

The alarms of dread that there is never enough.

The panic that there must be more.

System's anger and indifference;

Creeping solicitudes from behind profane blinds;

A permeation reeking in the heart, mind, and soul;

Trembling and apathy -- The belief of the powerless.

Fear the machine that uses;

Fear the machine that exploits;

Fear the machine that grinds;

The daily death of the living;

Leaving it's dead unburied on cutting room floors.

Pounding plagues -- Cursing seething machines oppression;

Hearing loud voices crying out from the wilderness;

A fearing world turns away.

Living in anguish -- The fear of living;

And the trepidation of a horror filled falling sky.

There is no place to run;

No place to hide,

and no place to cry.

 

 

FOR MY MOTHER WHO PASSED AWAY DEC. 16 2005, AND ALL MOTHERS -- ODE TO MOM (Dec. 2008)

Oh my mother -- I -- A part of you;

Inside you I grew -- From you I became me.

With a slap on the rear -- I came into the world.

As i grew you feed me -- You clothed me.

You cared for me -- You gave me comfort.

And I prospered in your grace;

Your remembrance a heartfelt soulful wisp.

You gave me kisses of approval,

hugs filled with love like the softest cashmere.

You taught me kindness -- common decency --

and heartfelt gentleness.

Your love a blessing -- Your favor a comfort.

Your touch so soft -- scent so kind.

Heaven scent velvet -- never to wither;

In your eyes quiet pools of patience.

In your rocking chair security enveloped my being.

You cherished me in your arms.

When I felt I couldn't face the fay -- You encouraged me.

In my cry, din, and babel -- A soft hand of correction.

You pushed me on to better things;

You taught me the dangers of the world and a little common sense.

Bestowing upon me hope in something more;

To see something bigger.

You blessed me with a childhood of delight;

Your embrace -- So delicate -- Always held in my heart;

You softly touched my soul.

And your love was without condition.

You were no doubt an angel;

Your soul a caressing stream;

More valuable than the finest silk.

A transcending kindness, and care;

Mother you have passed on;

But you are forever held and holding me.

You still whisper your love and understanding;

Your words are still held in my spirit.

Mom you have not left;

There is no place to go;

You are still here with us.

Your love never sleeps;

Through eternity -- You are held in absolute arms.

Mom I am always your boy.

I love you so much.

 

                                               

SECRETS

We must have our secrets.

What's in the closet?

Any old crusty bones?

Anything been swept under the rug?

Does your wife know why you didn't come home that night?

You stayed at your buddies house that night!

Tell me some more bull shit!

Are addictions un-crucified secrets chained in the basement?

And will those addictions rise someday to kill us?

Government secrets and what if we knew state secrets?

Revolutions riots in the streets;

Coupe d' e tat -- Coupe d' e grace!

Assassinations and the cover up M.L.K , The Dead Kennedies,

And where are Roswell Aliens now?

In a cryogenic freezer in Dayton.

Are we living a secret lie?

Does lie feel good and the brutal truth hurt?

Secrets -- Where do they go and when do they come?

All the secrets rush back to you.

Found in a loud thunderclap;

Haunting visions in storm swept dreams.

Just take them away;

My priest here's most of my secrets;

The rest I take to the grave.

I'm as honest as I can be.

How honest are you and how strong are the walls of your secrets?

Crashing walls of cherished secrets not stated.

Falling in thirsty desert of desert of suffering.

Dreaming of dream girl dreams;

Secret dreams of her so sweet;

Dream girl dreams roll on in night time  sugary treats.

I hold close my secret lover -- never to kiss and tell.

What of that secret place?

Do you play? 

Have sex?

Or cry?

I do all three!

And this secret -- Don't tell everyone the is really flat!

And Please tell everyone the greatest secret -- We are worth and forgiven!

The universal mysteries of creation, destruction,

and the theory of evolution.

We have only scratched the surface.

The secrets of birth, life and death;

And why does God keep secret from us?

It seems so unfair;

I want to know it all!

Why can't I?

In a vision -- I was standing in paradise;

I asked the masterful Archangel Michael where God was?

"He said; Up there.

Ain't that a bitch!

I hate secrets!   

 

 

THIS SPACE

A child is born it cries;

Crying hard for air -- Alive -- So very very alive;

Cool crisp air raising me high;

The body vibrating -- A shuddering joy;

In winds  so high and currents so fair;

I am Icarus* carried to the sun.

My child's sweet clamoring breath;

Apple of my eye and sugar of soul;

Windswept snow covered mountain peeks;

I stood there watching Eagles dance.

A spot of meadow so sunny and green;

A little shade under and old oak tree;

Whispering winds of silence surged forth;

Toasting a moment of sweet tranquility;

A raging hurricane called war;

Roaring ears -- Air splitting death;

They could not stop -- Only calling for more;

A vicious, churning storm -- All creation lite up;

Twisting, turning -- The winds ravages me;

Landing in Kansas -- Dorothy looked at me.

At the edge of a full life;

Moaning trying hard -- A eludes his faculties;

Eyes fad to gray.

The air benders raved;

And storms grew fierce and brave.

The courage to crush vexing nightmares,

and dark cradles no longer rock.

I hid them in numberless night,

and the timeless wind gave me a

moment to mourn this space.

 

*Icarus was the Son of Daedalus, who dared to fly too near the sun on wings of feathers and wax. Daedalus had been imprisoned by King Minos of Crete within the walls of his own invention, the Labyrinth. But the great craftsman's genius would not suffer captivity. He made two pairs of wings by adhering feathers to a wooden frame with wax. Giving one pair to his son, he cautioned him that flying too near the sun would cause the wax to melt. But Icarus became ecstatic with the ability to fly and forgot his father's warning. The feathers came loose and Icarus plunged to his death in the sea.

 

 

GIRLFRIEND'S STORY

She was happy and carefree at age six.

The word an amazing place of wonder.

So proud of her first year in school;

And a trusted uncle pandering evil;

Crashing, Carefree , Childhood Dreams,

Forced to see -- To do things --

No little one should ever be made to do.

Cast down -- So young -- into a world of forced sex

that she could have never imagined.

Light footed innocence lost;

A drawing of dark blinds;

A mother told and a mother who refused to believe;

The pedophile rapes continued for the next few years;

Fortunes fate -- A heart attack -- The uncle is dead;

But hard grinding blades and searing scars grow deep,

and have a life of their own.

Terror imprinted on her soul; 

Living the attacks over and over;

The suffering -- The shrinks -- and many many pills.

It only made marginal difference.

Daydream terrors -- Nightmares a demon's scourge;

Cutting flesh -- Blood running free -- My girl now a cutter.

She said; It gave her relief;

It made her feel better and it didn't hurt.

Many a Doctor tried their wares

and assorted psychiatric wards;

But nothing seemed to work.

Blood, Bandages, Pills, Different Pills, More Pills,

and matters became only worse;

The bean counting bastards canceled her insurance.

A disheartening day for us;

I could comfort her little;

I could only do what I could do.

A downhill spiral of psychotic episodes;

Her breaks with reality at a greater frequency;

Then one day;

I slide in the key, and opened the door;

She was hanging in our living room.

Heart and mind a stunned silence;

Fixed doors of frozen death;

The tears fell and did not stop.

Dear one's limp body in my quivering arms;

Her scared arms washed by tears. 

 

                             

A STORY OF CHILDHOOD -- BROKEN WING

There was once a little airplane with a broken wing,

and Broken Wing was his name.

He was a flying broken wing.

And Broken Wing could fly anywhere;

Broken Wing flies high -- flies low;

Flying here, there and everywhere;

He flies into the wild blue yonder;

We flew to the ceiling and had a rough and tumble landing

on the living room carpet.

Broken Wing was the greatest airplane ever.

We even rocketed to outer space;

We went to the Moon, Mars, Jupiter and all the planets.

Then shot off to far off Alpha -- Centauri,

and circumnavigated -- the bright star -- our sun.

All at warp factor 10;

A childhood fantasy coming true in little Broken Wing;

Broken Wing sleeps under my pillow;

He sleeps well.

Once he woke up and said;

Where would you like to go today Greg?

Let's fly around the neighborhood and visit with Larry, Moe, and Curly;

So we flew, and flew, and flew --

We flew everyday -- All day;

Until one day Broken Wing disappeared.

We were flying at Grama's house,

and Broken Wing flew away.

We looked all over for him.

We even looked around everything four times.

Alas -- I think he has flown away.

I cried for Broken Wing.

I hope he found a nice home.

I have since had F--86 Sabres and B--52 bombers;

But you -- Broken Wing were the best ever!

I'll never forget you -- Broken Wing;

Who broke the skies open.

Please fly back and see me some day.

I love you!

 

 

SAVAGE

A stench -- I smell your foul breath;

Brute beast -- Breaking my wrist;

At death will I be missed?

No mercy -- Dark one -- Enemy Death;

 

Put me on your trophy shelf;

At transcendent hours -- You are busy;

Dark Angel please take me easy;

Savage -- It's all about yourself;

 

Smashing mortal blows to my head;

Dragging me kicking by the shirt;

Why must I return to the dirt?

Dark One taking me hard on my death bed.

 

Ten Thousand shudder at your glance;

Felled before you Giant Redwood Trees;

But not the Eternal Breeze;

Fire in Darkness -- You do dance;

 

World Suffering you have wrought;

A Forlorn sad dying dish;

Pain and Misery -- You have no bliss;

Oh my soul you have tried -- But never bought;

 

Wanton Beast -- Purveyor of Death;

Savage -- No boasting on your breath;

I am the one you have sought;

On Stars I stroll never to be caught.

 

 

CHURNING

Willing lovers haunting ceiling mirrors;

The churning of flesh folding and unfolding;

Winking games in a Pink Pool of amorous delight;

Swarming Shadows of Sweeping Passion;

And reckless affairs throwing the devil to the wind.

Her inviting Milky White Breast -- That I Adore;

A building of different alters --

We celebrate our masses.

I worship once reluctant lips;

Her red pressing invitation -- open and willing.

In stroking arms -- low moans -- soft hands -- slow motions--

and clapping donder between white cotton cover.

The rippling osmosis of mingling desire.

Clinging together never to separate and drift apart.

Creamy complexions and parting pink lips

locked in the depths of Aphrodite's Rhythms.

The musty scent of sex and twisting expectations

buried in seething passion.

The filling of two spent souls and a relaxing lust

sat smoking a cigarette in blind satisfaction.

This naked poet smiles and with his melting pink pen;

He writes these glide wide eyed lines.

 

"Street Corner Workers" by Bas de Gids (artist, The Netherlands)

PIMPS, WHORES, AND COLLUSION -- AN AMERICAN STORY (June 2010)

They work in factories and fields;

Sacrificing bodies, youth, and time for a pittance;

Many times for less than than the minimum wage.

The man turns them out and cash back rolling big.

He slings a mop in Madison Square Garden.

His services to the lowest bidder.

Pimped off by a team owners whose team is worth

three hundred millions dollars.

The Janitor lives in Ghetto Tenement Slum.

His family has no health insurance.

He can't afford it.

His children go to second rate schools,

and will never see a college institution.

A business executive who has everything;

Only too want more.

Sacrificing towns, families, lives, morals, ethics,

and without a thought pollutes air, water, and land.

The bottom line -- Trillions in profits and huge bonuses.

A Babylonian Whore selling his soul for Earthly Gold.

Imperialist corporate nations and egocentric generals;

Pimping cannon fodder soldiers off to glorious red slaughter;

For the sake of oil company dollars.

Death for oil dollars -- Is it worth it!

International corporations and teaming 3rd world masses;

Billions of people to pimp off;

To treat as whores for a dollar;

A world to exploit -- A world to manipulate -- Hundreds of trillions in profits.

A father in India performing back breaking labor;

One thousand dollars a year.

His children eat three bowls of rice a day,

and his family sleeps on a dirt floor in a tin shack.

Ain't capitalism great!

And the powers that be look on in silent collusion.

It is a fact we have been programmed since birth

to believe this is the only way.

A system of perpetrators and victims;

Pimps and whores.

Brainwashed -- That we must take advantage or every opportunity.

Opportunity  a code word taking advantage of everyone and everything.

And why must we take advantage of anything?

We are pimped off by system that serves only a few.

We have been subjected to slavish systematic indoctrination

through television, radio. schools, newspapers,and the internet etc. etc. etc.

Bombard my indoctrination -- Indoctrination everywhere;

Everyone has a price -- So be it.

Everything can be bought -- So it is.

An offer we can't refuse -- Amen.

And the powers that be look on in silent collusion.

A world of Pimps and whores,

and we deny what we are.

At least when she sold her ass

on street corner for fifty bucks;

She was honest about what she was.

 

                                               

Orwellian Chains

They are watching;

A look that records our DNA;

High resolution cameras,

and street corner registered evidence;

Satellites seeing our business;

Shuttering Odyssey eyes high in the sky;

Orbiting eyes -- Spying eyes;

Manipulating eyes -- Eyes of exploitation;

Informing eyes -- Big brother sees all;

Bug ears in our walls;

Bug ears under our desk;

Bug ears in your once hallowed halls;

Hearing whispers -- Listening to our spoken words.

A breathalyzer test --

Piss in this cup --

A spike in your arm and vile of blood;

A hair and our 8 month history;

Our once sacred bodies, blood, and bone raped;

An open story for Orwell 84.

The Constitutional Right to Privacy --

Decimated -- A laughing stock.

Arrested and interrogated held for 48 hours

without charges -- Under the guise of safety;

Homeland Jackboot Security.

The assumption that we are guilty till proven innocent.

Information age and the Internet intercourse

All knowing eyes -- Seeing all;

Stripped naked on the alter of violation;

Nailed and crucified;

Wrapped in old glory the tyrannical order to conform;

From manipulating pigs of power;

Indentured servants obeying corporate masters;

Masses controlled and expendable;

A winding web of deceit;

Spinning lies to the illusion of truth;

Masses living in delusion;

Our Bones quake -- Our Stomach turns -- Our Anger grates;

But the brainwashed -- 

Lay prostrate before their false gods;

In apathy we eat shit; 

It seems we are screwed;

Is there no escape?

The establishments --

All seeing -- All hearing;

All dominating Orwellian Chains

1984 realized 2010!