Below is a poem that I've written to try to make people a little more aware of the plight of the homeless at this time of year, why, is it only at this time of year thar we feel we should do something to help those less fortunate than ourselves and not for the rest of the year? Guilt or what? You tell me?
Outside the Cathedral pristine and regal
Young lovers queue up for a pew
Tis a time for thinking of others
As least that's what we're told to do
As the men sit drunk in the confessional box
Singing pub songs that hardly make sense
The women shush them and shush them again
Through the haze of the sweet frankincense
The men have been on the drink all day
The women alone, stuck indoors
Tis Christmas a time for forgiving
A time to be seen out with yours
As the crowd gather round the nativity scene
"All men are equal in Gods eyes" we're told
Try telling that to the tramps outside in the street
Homeless, lonely and old
The candles flicker to the sound of the hymns
As the tramps come inside from the cold
They sit in side alters away from the mass
They're not welcome in Gods house I'm told
As the smoke rises up up to the heavens
Those passed on, are missed at this time
As widows dry tears they think of the years
With sadness and joy both combined
The choristers sing like angels
With dulcet young voices so sweet
Outside the fine marble Cathedral,
The homeless still sleep in the street
As the rich families turn up for the once a year mass
To make Christmas Day so complete
Tis a shame in their finery they had to step over
The homeless asleep in the street
The singing and prayers from those gathered there
Are touching, inspiring and sad
"Its Christmas, lets think of those worse off than us"
Says the well spoken priest
The sheer hypocrisy just makes me mad
As the plates are passed round
As their conscience gives pounds
They are hopeful that dough will ease pain
If not how are they to feel good about themselves
With all those material aims?
As the congregation shakes hands with total strangers
"Peace be with you" often is said
The tramps in the side alters forgotten
Bless themselves and shake wise aged heads
The priest stands at the doors to say "Merry Christmas"
To the once year a punters red faced
Who think that by turning up here on this night
Their souls are now flowing with grace
As the crowds gather outside on the pavement
To talk about goodwill and cheer
They turn up their noses and strike rigid poses
In case someone unkempt should comes near
The tramps sit across the road with a smoke and a joke
To watch all this small talk take place
All of the punters feel they're conscientiously clear
But they won't look the tramps in the face
As the now holy souls depart in their droves
To breakfast and Christmas tree lights
Will they think of those with out caring or love
Who trudge London street's on this night
Good Will Amongst Men? Go on say it again
Though you know in your heart, Such talk is cheap
We care only for him with £ signs that ring
And are lead to the mass just like sheep
Merry Christmas to ye and yours indoors
The thoughts above are my thoughts alone
When in the bosom of yer family this Christmas
They'll be sadly always someone alone!
peace.
kev copyright 2005
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