Cuddled up......

Cant make this glossy cant dress this up.
The truth always hurts..lies are not enough.
Seen a film last night the Soloist was its name,
story about the homeless and a musician going insane.

Cuddled up in blankets in comradeship.
Joined in poverty at the soiled stained hip.

The guy hears noises in his head…On the streets-
his address…. enough said.
Underneath the viaduct he plays the strings of his cello
Motorist open their car windows…
Screaming at this fella!

Cuddled up in blankets in comradeship.
Joined in poverty at the soiled stained hip.

You see, he thinks he is Beethoven incarnated…
While the rats run around his legs, to this life he is fated.
Until the Los Angeles journalist, takes up his plight…
Writes about men and woman of the night.

Cuddled up in blankets in comradeship.
Joined in poverty at the soiled stained hip.

This knight with no armour except pages he’s written.
Rescues this guy and becomes emotionally smitten.
Gives him a flat, thanks to the mayor of a USA Town. (Dont forget he’s suppose to be a down and out)
Mr Bojangles plays in the background….my heart wants to shout!

Cuddled up in blankets in comradeship.
Joined in poverty at the soiled stained hip.

The cosiness is too much to bare the homeless guy is in deep despair.
He wants to be back on the streets, playing his music to all he meets.
This is all he has ever known black and skint – hair out grown.
But a Bloody genius he really is…
unnoticed in his schitzophrenic abyss.

Cuddled up in blankets in comradeship.
Joined in poverty at the soiled stained hip.

As tonight I wrap myself in duvet of silk, my heart its torn in strips.
How can I help those homeless ones, who are joined at flee bitten hips.
We haven’t walked an inch, or mile, in their footsteps, upon there smile.
Let us sit up- and take notice for a little while.

Cuddled up in blankets in comradeship.
Joined in poverty at the soiled stained hip.

We do not know the life’s they led. Do we care if they have been fed?
We sit at banquets at our laden tables…hypocrisy breathes cane and able.

Our televisions- cookers on….
whatever happened to the forgotton son?
lets bless this house we live in…
and never walk past without giving….
For there for the grace of god go we……
In our houses one two or three……

Cuddled up in blankets in comradeship.
Joined in poverty at the soiled stained hip.

Cuddled up in silk……..wine and cheese.
The streets paved with gold we walk with ease.
For some its starvation….For OTHERS a breeze.
Cuddled up….
throwing up…
growing up….
living it up…..
Or living on the streets……………….!!!!!!!!

Copyright2009 Angel Hamilton Macintyre.

Feautured in Live and let live 2009
Featured in The world how we see it or how we missed it 2009

Cuddled up......

marieangel

Joined May 2009

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Artist's Description

Featured In Live and Let Live Oct 2009
Featured In Show me a sign Oct 2009
Feature inThe world how we see it or how we missed it*Oct 2009*
Inspired while watching a movie about the homeless in a warm cinema ..feeling blessed and lucky that I am safe.
Feeling lucky I am going home to a warm safe bed feeling lucky I can write about the plight…and maybe reach a few more listening ears…
In our own way we can be the difference that makes the difference.
Lets do it!!!!

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