Hard Luck Hoyle Lives A No Fixed Address.

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: Hard Luck Hoyle Lives A No Fixed Address. : LiBbey Joplin. : Fluorescent lights float psyched, : Artless within walls of white : An orange cued doors. : The mental health system speaks a pleasant fiction's service, : Yes/no or as you like? : Yet, tick says the unseen clock within–Why so "NO" in compliance? : Well Life's a sorrow according to Hoyle, : Sobs Ms. Hard-Luck. : Back in the DAY, : Papa was a mean one, : A hard knocking boozer, : And so too Mama a nervous ghost. : All in all, : "Life" never looked the same after that End. : Rest-less, : Dignity is the composure : to say do what you will and deny what : one can. : Only Gawd knows the rationalized devils within? : Ooh Mother of Trouble, : street bound the AM's light Goes Ms. Hard Luck. : Why, all the concentric circles which twist in tender rhetoric seizing a mind? : Punch-stomp, : grab recalls the ragged eyes adrift in homelessness, : Wherefore no fixed address born in evolutions of aggrieved tedium.. : And concentric crushed circles. : Sigh, : who has the lion's share of acceptable susceptibilities? : Again Yesterday's Child sits aloof/broke ticking away the past's pains, : On an anonymous winter day. : Who owns the lion's share of supportive sensibilities to bestow? : So here hope-less to agrees to disagree when struggling to claim redemption, : Isolated, : small within streetwise worked incongruities are the estranged : games which people play to obtain their lives. : Yeass, : Life less lived charges the soul in bursting brain rhythms, : Asking [T]ruths : Of who really knows necessity's voice save the tested/experienced? : Where to run in a world of small gods, : psyched polemic via talking heads? : And, : Yet then again thoughts turn to feet alive, : Awake back to live life on the street--Orphaned, haggard brisk, : A pocket full of pharmaceutical bother and a bus ticket to ride. : Bang goes the big poor-house glass door! : Alas, no food, no roof nor scarce refuge? : No family.. : What to do, : When you live in such a soulless shoe?! : Then turns the scene in cares custodial, : to the ruin of consolation rarely found. : NFA gone again, gone again, : Bones hurt too sore to move.. : Slam goes one more agency door. : It's snowing now, : NFA and the streets are still? : ©2003 LiBbey Joplin, all rights reserved. The CarRot. Outil édité d'enseignement, institut dans la : gestion et développement de la Communauté, Université de Concordia. Montréal, Québec. : This poem is dedicated and written for all those living a or below the poverty cut-off line--Meaning,all the working poor, beat for broke ailing vulnerable and System-Survivors living with disablities,who are "Our" Society's disenfranchised living at risk of social assistance, homelessness and/or homeless, everyday. : Reflection: "Charity, I sit on a man's back, choking him and making him carry me, and yet I assure myself and others that I am very sorry for him and wish to ease his lot by all possible means - except by getting off his back." - Leo Tolstoy. : : : Oui, c'est bravo,impressionnant! Il a un sourire fort à ses mots. J'ai apprécié votre centre ville de lecture de poésie sur le Metro aujourd'hui, LiBbey. Soyez bon jusqu'à ce que je vous revoie. Your poem Libbey is beautiful and passionate. If I may, I would like to also use it/to give it to my senior students at the university, when we begin the study of poetry. I'm always hoping that I can move them in the direction of compassion and concern for others. : : Mes meilleurs sentiments, : : Christinne Vignon, Citoyens d'Ontario pour l'élimination des politiques sociales malsaines. : : : : Having Survived Life East of Equity, Kinda. : : LiBbey Joplin. : : Sundown, second week.. : : Month's end? : : Bittersweet half way, unsung... : : Folks outta food again. : : Hard to breathe hope once Life's wounds : : Go Social Assistance. : : Madame Citoyen Avec Culotte, : : Save us from depraved socialized indifference? : : October rains a cold, : : Too tired to revel in Life's joy. : : Yes, sleeps the harsh knowings of dreamt direness. : : Awake, awake four walls 2:38 am, : : Hunger.. : : Buried alive in penalty, : : After the fact of injury : : Is the hour's chill. : : And the little birds I know say paupers can't be choosers, : : but folks fight to sing, all the same. : : Bones hurt to move/ Ontario Works? No, no and no. : : Then, in a faithful moment, : : Give a dawg a bone, : : A burger may become the good mental health of a small comfort. : : Yet, the hut you crash iz a likely trick done according to Hoyle. : : Yes, sicker-by-the-day desiccates the unfortified. : : Ontario Disability Support Program Act is a legislated lament. : : Nine years Machiavellian-Altruism : : ruined us in untold ways. : : Cupboards bare, : : Kraft-Dinner and do-more-with-less ain't no goodness : : to be named healthy. : : O'Mercy, fiscal conservatism.. : : Wounds upon wounds--Misery as dignity? : : Sad, the anxious suffrage of Survivors : : is the measure of "Our" society's worth. : : Poverty, it's a wicked business--Scurrilous, yes? : : Guess, it's the scrooge in each, : : that's the custodian of making crazy. : : So, now some work late to build equity in the Ontario of 2003, : : And counting--There in civility stands: "Injury, Privation, Neglect and : : Disservice," : : They are the daughters and sons of much misrepresentation. : : Poverty's Survivor, : : In the End and so the Beginning : : it's a 24-7 act of courage! : : And there in umbrella's rat carried on playing in the rain, : : Singing: "Aucune crédibilité sans qualité de la vie--No credibility without quality of the life!" : : Oui, : : Ne lâche pas--Faites, société civile! : : All in confustication, : : just the signs of "Our" times...Those whom are said to be, : : Far upon high, : : Kingdom come, : : Rex Maximus, erat rex nomine, : : sed non postestate. : : A finger'd rebuke for the Kings in name, : : but not in [T]ruth, : : nor power. : : Ah wonder yeass, : : Shine on, : : In praise Poverty's Survivor! : : EnD. : : ©2005 LiBbey Joplin, all rights reserved, Toronto, Canada. End of the Block Ink. Outil édité d'enseignement, institut dans la gestion et développement de la Communauté, Université de Concordia. Montréal,Québec. : : This poem is dedicated and written for all those living at or below the poverty cut-off line--Meaning, all the working poor, beat for broke ailing vulnerable and System-Survivors living with disablities, who are "Our" Society's disenfranchised living at risk of social assistance, homelessness and/or homeless, everyday. : : Reflection: "I sit on a man's back, choking him and making him carry me, and yet I assure myself and others that I am very sorry for him and wish to ease his lot by all possible means - except by getting off his back." - Leo Tolstoy.

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