Tag Archives: poverty

home, Lifestyle, poetry

Life Of A Beggar

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Living life on the crutches of poverty

In a world without balance

The life of a beggar, a pitiful one

Waiting to die from a time gone by

Bounded by the hunger tearing his heart

He’s a platter for the homeless beasts

Night closes in on him carelessly

By day his wrinkles smile on a chapel floor

The rotten smell clung on him like dead meat

Whining at life, vomiting bitterness

Promises of a hopeless future

Clung on his rugged wool covering

One day in the life of a beggar

When the sky will open

And release the gifts of life

Redeeming the locust eaten years

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Image Source: Pixabay

home, Lifestyle, relationships

Money And Sex

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Sex is fun!

Enchanting, exciting!

Alluring, invigorating!

The act is heavenly!

Sex is everything that rules the world, it has unfortunately taken the place of love. What happened to love, kindness and you? Instead of that, we have Sex and Money.

Money is life-changing!

It’s friendly, sweet-evil, contagious!

Addictive, enchanting, magnetic!

The wad of cash keeps the struggle away!

Money gets things done, it makes the world go round, it’s the root of evil, yet it’s a necessity and therefore has taken over kindness and sincerity. In conclusion “something must be wrong” but you know what? Everything is wrong…

Power craves for money and sex, blinding every other purpose of life,

Creating ice cold bastards, blood-sucking demons, promoting struggle and fight.

Thinking we have the solution to poverty by hunting for more and more money? NO!

It makes us want more shit and creates this deep hole well in our heart that keeps getting wider and then we sink inside it and get burned up.

Image Source: Pixabay

home, poetry

Liminal Controversial Situations

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My loneliness…still comes over me

sometimes…It’s a liminal, lost

sensation of having wandered wide,

endless boulevards, among rows of

orange trees, winter butterflies,

seasons reversed and out of order,

dogs barking from behind fences

meant to keep out intruders. It’s not

the place that impoverishes me but I

who bring my own sense of poverty,

of loss, to the place. It’s a sense of

near nothingness, as though I were

not as much a blank slate as an erased

chalkboard, still bearing illegible

smudges of smoothed-over writing.

     Marco Roth