Homeless and beaten

It was the police

hiding behind dark glasses,
shades of grey,

throwing the man to the ground
like the bags of rubbish
he hoarded,
his home,

kicking him in the guts
for football practice,

kneeing him in the groin
to measure machismo,

getting their kicks from

the nameless

the faceless

the shadows

who brought it all on themselves,

who should have known better,

who dared be so pathetic,

who pollute the world

with their smells and crap
possessions and
hands out
passed out,

that’ll teach him
they laughed.

When the man lay bloodied and beaten
a felonious crow swooped
down from the cross he was perched on
and stole their dark glasses

so they could see

their father
their son
and their
holey spirit.

________________

Note: Written for Bruce Rowe and every other homeless person who has been abused for just being homeless.

19 thoughts on “Homeless and beaten

  1. Yes I watched that too and was chilled by the footage. But he was lucky there was footage! Imagine how often that happens and the poor victim has no evidence!
    GB, you are right. Nothing like a bit of emotion to get a blogger back from vacation. Well done!
    Also, the Police Union clown’s reaction was so inappropriate it could and should spark a thorough investigation.

  2. This is perfect. You have done an exceptional job of ‘being there’ and only a soul full of love and compassion could understand it. It’s much easier to find yourself in this position than most people want to accept. I’m so curious now I’m going to go and find this story on the net, such is the power of your poem Gabe. HUGS

    1. Thanks Val – if you follow the link it will take you to the story, but there is all a video you can click on (it’s on the same page as the article). My brother is one of those people who is on the verge of homelessness and if he didn’t have family, he would be homeless – and sometimes he hangs on the street and has been beaten up heaps of times (not just by Police mind you).

  3. a ‘felonious crow’, wow. this is great gabrielle. a sad but true poem for our times, which shall become classic, and which has the same kind of impact with delicacy that great timely poems impart for all times to come

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