The Homeless..

A Kodak photo that may have been taken in 1807 portraits a homeless skinny grey haired man. Maybe he escaped the starvation. In another thought, the poverty, or a misleading judgement of a so called creatures; kind a….

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In all cases, he seems as if he ran for ages, his jacket was taken away midway to the village. A jacked he did not tailor its pockets. Those were not meant for a fancy Channel wallet. His eyes were pale yellow, just close to his tiny chin. He laid down on his site facing the camera man, the back ground as a roller shutter of a local pastry shop. The owner was anything but a generous guy. The homeless lips cracked of thirst and hunger burned out his muscles. Left him craving for anything edible, maybe a left-over piece of bread hoping to dip it in water instead of honey before totally enjoying its refreshing blossom. The homeless recaps ancient memories; temporary though before waking up to the last scene of a zombies’ carnival.


The Carnival

Consistently, his neighborhood bothered him.

Screwing up the spring carnival,

Drama prevented his glory as criticism filed the city squares.

He grinned, then faced the ancestors; ”We will win.

Well, one day, maybe next carnival. Trust me,I commit.”

He seemed so sure.

An awkward promise resonates.

City is being dressed up for the carnival.

A day before the next carnival, he was carried to the cemetery.

Spontaneously, glory likelihood is nil.

From over the neighbors’ shoulders, he cries:

You fool, before you follow me, enjoy every lousy minute of life,

Paralyzed, unreachable pleas, he is gone.

He was the carnival.