The gutter misery
We ignore it, trying not to mind,
and look the other way
if it insistently protests too hard,
which only makes it worse:
the homeless with his shaky alcoholic stench,
the withered prostitute inviting anyone
for just a few poor pennies and still gets no customers,
the beggar tart with her small crying child in rags
who no one wants to offer anything
since no one feels responsible for her situation,
and the child with swollen belly and infected eyes,
too large and suffering to even raise compassion
since the misery is too revolting in its ugliness,
the leper demonstrating his horrendous mutilations
to get money, and the cripple crawling without legs
and twisted limbs on some invalid cart on small wheels,
and the thousands who no more can rise,
have given up, as lost and scrapped, with no more strength,
just waiting to get carried out and thrown away.
That's our reality in major parts of our world,
which we don't want to see or care for,
since we have enough of ourselves
which claims all our attention,
blinding us to that reality
which in the end will never spare us.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 420 times
Written on 2007-11-30 at 21:04
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