State Of 20th Century Man
He walks alone, come life, come death.
Who really sees him, who really cares?
Here stands a young man, see his clothes,
just tattered rags, long greasy hair,
jeans and T-shirt people stare.
A disdaining glance, then look away,
another juvenile delinquent,
the arrogant seem to say.
With scorn-filled eyes they silently stare,
as if a cockroach dared crawl,
beneath their chair.
They have already given
to a charity appeal this year.
Unspoken questions hang in the air.
His head is bent before the cold,
all spirit’s left him, his eyes are old.
Celebrations abound, a warm Christmas day,
but for the poverty-striken poor, another hungry day.
The Christmas Spirit, barely remembered now
a gluttonous feast, chicken, wine.
Who cares for the precepts of another time?
A man’s life hangs in ruins, clinging threads,
he needs a friend to lean on, a place to rest.
If he were in trouble and he lived here
would you stop, would you care?
Would you pause for just one second, if but to stare?
A few would like to help,
least that’s what they say.
Don’t get involved,
it’s not your problem, people bay,
it’s one’s fault, that’s life today!
Ego trippers sometimes help,
but their money’s just paper
and words are cheap.
Who will give their heart,
and their love,
that he may keep?
On One Tree Hill he gathers rope,
the hangman’s knot;
he pulls tight against his throat.
His mind is calm, without hope.
But what does
conscience dictate now?
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
Added by Poetry Lover
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